The Great Escape

This weekend was defined by two highlights for Kristine, an empathetic friend and a rebellious adventure. Kristine's friend Erica that she met at Hippocrates stopped in Philadelphia for the weekend on her way home to Florida. You may be familiar with Erica, her support contingent has flooded Kristine's blog in recent weeks with well wishes and encouraging words (those Iowans certainly know how to spread some Midwestern kindness). Erica was returning from Iowa where her parents live and where she has been receiving treatment for brain cancer. She has had to put her chemotherapy treatment on hold though due to an enlarged heart caused by the chemo drugs she's taking. Her friend Jody joined her on the trip, taking a short break from her responsibilities at home to help -- Erica occasionally has seizures from the tumors in her brain so flying alone can be a bit dangerous.

For Kristine, Erica is probably the one person she knows who can truly empathize with her about what she's dealing with and feeling. Their conversations were both sweet and bitter. On the one hand Kristine was able to release some of the ire and frustration she has been feeling with someone who is experiencing similar trials. On the other hand it's exhausting to tackle so many complex emotions in a short amount of time. I think any amount of time she spends talking about her situation is positive and cathartic, a healthy way to heal the emotional wounds that will undoubtedly linger for some time.

On Saturday, before Erica and Jody arrived, Kristine decided she wanted to get some fresh air. The rehab center allows its patients to be wheeled outside as long as they are accompanied by a family member and stay on the same block as the rehab facility. Connie, Kristine's mom, wheeled her out and around the city block. But Kristine, being the rebel child she is, wasn't entirely content with just going around the block -- she wanted more. Specifically she got it in her head that she wanted to be wheeled home (we live pretty close by), sit on our couch and pet our dog Rufus. Connie rightfully was not comfortable going any farther than was permitted by the staff so they went back up to the room. But Kristine's defiance was only further stoked by the center's rules. If there's one thing I've learned about Kristine over our almost 9 years together it's that being told she can't do something only intensifies her desire to do it anyway. She waited until I got to the center and cajoled me into being the accomplice for her escape.

I could tell what it meant to her, so we set off for home while Connie waited back at the center. We navigated over the bumpy and often jolting cement and brick sidewalks of Lombard Street until we reached our house. There are four steps into our 19th century row house, each one an individual challenge that gave us both a taste of what we can expect when Kristine returns home in just a few more weeks. She sat on the couch and said hello to Rufus, petting his head that rested confused on her lap. She asked me to sit beside her and gently placed her head on my shoulder before she broke into tears. She said nothing until the tears stopped and then as if she had not been crying at all looked at me and said, "Thank you. This is the most normal I've felt in weeks." And then with little hesitation she motioned to leave. We shuffled to the front door, Kristine moving her right leg as I shifted her weight and nudged her left foot forward. At the doorway there was a strong apprehension to the thought of shuffling down the stairs. After a near misstep on the first stair down, I lifted Kristine, placed her in her wheelchair and we headed back to the center.