Ana and Isa’s blog

5/23/08

We awoke in the Days Inn and, after the usual simple carbohydrate breakfast of waffles, cereal and muffins, headed back into Arches National Park to continue exploring the famous arches. Trent and I drove separately from Isa, so that we could enjoy the day together, promising to meet Isa back at 5: 00 pm for our cruise on the Colorado River. I desperately wanted to go river rafting, a famous endeavor in Moab, but with my cast and the threat of getting wet, I had to refrain and chose a more subdued evening river cruise with senior citizens. Trent and I drove into the depths of Arches National Park toward the Devils Garden trailhead. The morning sun mixed with stubborn clouds, making speckled red, yellows and browns on the rocks. Being Memorial Day weekend , there were plenty of others on the trail. The Devils Garden Trail was a 7 mile loop that took visitors up a sandy path towards one of the longest and most fragile arches, Landscape Arch. Apparently the arch broke in 1991 , witnessed by local hikers, and lost a huge chunk of its side. Now the most narrow part of the arch measures only six feet wide. The path continued towards 6 more arches, this time up more primitive trails involving some scrambling up rock. At the Navajo Arch and further down at the Partition Arch, which provided a grand view of the entire park through it’s magnificent view hole, it began to rain rather rigorously. The wind nipped through my thin pants and I could feel myself shivering. Somehow since my last transplant I have become exceedingly sensitive to cold. We decided to forego further wandering in the rain and headed down, trusting the rubber on my cast’s boot to adhere to the wet sandstone rocks. What a gift it was to hike with Trent for the first time, after a year of oxygen, wheelchairs and crutches. FINALLY, we could have some fun together.

Trent and I made it back to the car as the rain subsided a bit. Arches NP is known to get only 12 inches of rain per year; how ironic that rain would happen on the one day we happened to be there. After a brief lunch of sandwiches, beef jerky, fruit and cookies in the car, we continued on the scenic drive following the park’s recommendations for the best visible arches - Skyline Arch, Sand Dune Arch and finally the most famous - the unofficial symbol of Utah - the Delicate Arch. The Delicate Arch lies on top of a mountain, by itself, unsupported by great walls of sandstone. It requires a 3 mile strenuous hike to get to and we were pressed for time. We decided to take an alternative trail that went up a mountain next to Delicate Arch so we could view it across a canyon instead of hiking directly to it. That viewpoint trail was only 3/4 mile long although it entailed further scrambling and hiking on large bolders. It gave us the time to sit on the ledge of the canyon and relax, overlooking the scenery, holding eachother in the cold and just chilling out ( a rarity for me- I need Trent to do this). In a way, having another person join us, especially someone as type B and relaxed as Trent, helped me slow down. Isa and I always push to the max to get it all in, to do that last hike despite the time pressure, even if it means running down the mountain. Having a third person meant being open to another person’s travel style and wishes. In the end it worked out that we didn’t hike all the way to Delicate Arch. As we were heading back to the car, we met Isa who claimed that she just finished the entire 7 mile hike at Devils Garden in the pouring rain and howling wind. She hiked in utter isolation to distant arches, as others turned back to avoid the rain, but the jackrabbits and blooming springtime cacti kept her company. It took her much longer than anticipated because of the severe rain and treacherous trail that involved steep hands-and-knee hiking up rocks. She even confessed to having to make a detour because the trail was too slippery to hike down.

She ultimately ran out of time to do the Delicate Arch trail. For a Stenzel to be deprived of a trail was like an alcoholic being deprived of a drink. We were due back at the Colorado River port for our river cruise in 45 minutes and had to let that trail go.

We arrived at the river cruise to find that our jetboat would have only 8 people on it. The good news was that we had ample room to move about on the boat for the best scenery. The bad news was that it was a jet boat using fuel and what a waste for just us.
The boat sped off and the cold, sunset air chilled our cheeks and blew our hair wildly, reminding me of the time I road an airboat in the Florida swamps years ago. Trent and I huddled in the cold. In a few moments the boat slowed in between towering red rock walls. We were engulfed in a canyon- the brown muddy waters of the Colorado were surrounded by fresh spring shore trees of tamarisk, cottonwood and others. We were told this was the highest the Colorado River had ever run, and it was threatening homes on the shoreline. The river was calm in this region- it was said to become whitewater about 5 miles down the river at Cataract Canyon, where the Colorado and Green River converged. That area was the experienced rafter’s dream. Along the river cruise the guide stopped to show us unique arches hanging over the canyon, salt mines, petroglyphs on the canyon walls, rock climbers, campgrounds, historic trails, and deep canyon locations where GMC truck commercials and Wild Western John Wayne movies were filmed. The clouds of the day were finally parting and the grey sky opened up to bright blue, reminding us of how much sunlight was left at 8pm when it shined through the clouds. At last the signs of rain were subsiding and the rock became golden on the canyons. Birds flew in and out of pirches in the canyon walls.

The river cruise culminated with an all-you-can-eat Dutch oven BBQ dinner. The scrumptious generous meal included salad, corn, freshly baked bread, baked beans, fried potatoes, and every possible BBQ’d meat you could imagine. It was our first AYCE (all-you-can-eat) experience on this trip and we were determined to go for the gold. We sat next to two elderly men who were on our river cruise- one was from Japan. It turns out they were also on a 7 week cross country trip in an RV, starting out in Virginia. In speaking to Joe further, it turns out he is married to a Japanese woman and was traveling with his brother-in-law, who in classic Japanese fashion was basically mute. We connected with Joe, and by the end of the evening he bought two of our books for his half-Japanese children. In the usual prednisone-induced feeding frenzy, we ate for two hours straight until the servers where ready to turn the lights off and lock the doors. *birp*

Feeling full from our indulgence, we headed back to our simple motel in downtown Moah. The night still felt young even though the sun was setting. We did a little shopping in the quaint touristy stores, trying to find the perfect souvenir that was not made in China. I left empty handed, feeling satisfied by the photos I had taken, and the water I had collected in my Colistin vial from the Colorado River- the best souvenirs.

It had been a long day. I had hiked about 5 miles total on my cast, and my foot was yelling at me. Not to mention it was brown and wet from the rain and dirt. But the day was a good one and I had seen more of God’s glory. Trent survived two days of “vacation” with the Stenzels. I could tell he was tired. He looked dismayed when I asked, “Could you handled 40 days of this?” We slept deeply as the temperature dipped outside. We were pleased we had chosen to stay in a hotel instead of camp after all.

Thank you for your continued interest in our blog.
We are posting these late, as you know , due to our poor access to internet last week.

ANA STENZEL

5/20/08
Tonight I am by myself in this romantic room at gorgeous Leland House/ Rochester Hotel near Main Street. My bed is adorned with a handmade red, white and blue star-covered quilt and the walls are decorated with Western images. Outside my room are homemade cookies, coffee and tea in the cozy lobby where a gourmet breakfast is served each morning. I am writing from beautiful Durango, a quaint city tucked in a valley in the San Juan Mountains, in southwestern Colorado. Ana is in another room with Trent, who flew in today to join our Southwest vacation. It feels nice to be alone and have quiet time to reflect on where I am.

Ana and I arrived in Durango last night after a long drive on highway 160 from Colorado Springs. My stay in Colorado is overflowing with love from new friends, both present and absent.

I will continue Ana’s post by starting off where she stopped two days ago. We actually arrived in Colorado Springs around 7pm Mountain Town, after driving 12 hours from Omaha. Ana and I wanted to go to the red rock Garden of the Gods, but we read that it had closed at 5pm. Instead, we listened to our tired bodies and tried to find dinner. We roamed through downtown and came across Cowboys, a country dance club. While an old man on a microphone instructed about 8 couples on the dance floor the fine details of country dancing, Ana and I chowed down on a $7 steak, mashed potatoes and green bean dinner served in a classic gold-mining pans. This man’s drone of 1-2-3, 1-2-3. 1-2-3 kept in sync with the chewing of our hard steak. It was fun to watch the couples really figure out how to step the right way with their partners.

After dinner, we found our way to Elaine’s home, where she welcomed us in her absence to stay at her beautiful home. Elaine is the mother of our friend Laurie from CTDN, and we have never met her before. This hospitality is another example of grace and giving that we’ve been blessed with on our book tour road trip. Elaine filled her home with loving notes and plenty of tourist brochures. We made ourselves at home at Elaine’s home, doing laundry in the sink and boiling nebulizer parts in my hot pot. Ana and I slept together in a cozy bed to spare Elaine from washing extra sheets! I crashed quickly and slept deeply for 10 hours. My body is feeling the effects of go-go-go touring.

We woke early on 5/19, Monday morning, to make it to the Cog Railway in Manitou Springs, outside of Colorado Springs. This railway climbed 8000 feet with unique powerful diesel engines, sometimes climbing a 25% grade. If you just did the math, Colorado Springs is around 6000 feet and we head up to 14,110 feet! We were a bit nervous, with my lung infection and Ana’s 80% lung function, but we’d never know how this high elevation affected us unless we tried! We boarded the train at 9:20am and enjoyed the 1 ½ hour drive up. We passed shallow dry canyons, pine trees, a historic broken down log home, a hydroelectric plant, lots of marmots, and plenty of miles of hiking trails that led to the summit. I wish I could’ve hiked up! But I knew I wasn’t in the condition… I gazed out the open train window, with its gush of warm air. The higher we got, the more refreshing and crisper the air. Around 11,000 we passed the timberline and came to snow fields and inhospitable rocky terrain. We could see the deep valley and lake below. To the east we could see miles and miles of golden prairie- where we had driven from the day before. To the southwest, I drooled as I saw the snow-peaked Sangre de Cristo Mountains in Northern New Mexico, where I still yearn to hike for miles and miles at end. To the southeast were the San Juan Mountains and to the north were more Rocky Mountain ranges. No wonder the lyrics, “Purple mountain majesty, above the fruitful plains,” from America the Beautiful, were derived here! I couldn’t get the smile off my face, even as my anxiety increased when my pulse raced and breathing grew faster as we climbed higher. The sky was blue with speckled clouds high up in the sky. There are nothing like the northern New Mexican/Southern Colorado clouds- I’ve never seen these in California. The sun reflects from the billowy tops of these patchy cumulous clouds. The stark whiteness on top is contrasted by the silver gray lining on the bottom of the clouds. These clouds are dotting the sky and make it look like we are looking at a fake backdrop. I could gaze at them forever.

The highest railroad in the United States brought us to the top of Pikes Peak by 10:30am. We arrived at the summit and walked around taking photos. I was breathless but could walk comfortably. We brought a DONATE LIFE sign and took lots of pictures for our friends at CTDN and our medical team. We have never been at this altitude in our lives, and could never have IMAGINED being here either. The closest I’ve been, post-transplant of course, was last summer at Mammoth Mountain at 11,000 feet. Today we were nearly at half of Mt Everest, and who could ever have imagined we could breathe here????? Ana said she was more breathless one year ago walking down her driveway than walking up here at 14110 ft. We wandered the summit, muttering, “Oh my God, Oh my God,” over and over. We soaked in the views that words and pictures can never fully describe. It was a perfectly clear day and we could’ve seen hundreds of miles in all distances. Ana and I were just kids in a candy store, skipping around in the snow (Ana getting her cast wet again), laughing and praising God for this moment. Good thing our cell phones didn’t work or else I would’ve spent the time calling my doctors and donor family and thanking them. I was closer to Heaven than I’ve ever been, literally and figuratively. I constantly asked God, why, why, why are we so lucky to be able to do this??? We will never understand why we got this chance to do this while so many others could not.

We rushed down the mountain by 1pm and made a quick driving detour of Garden of the Gods. We didn’t have time to see it because we had to make it to Durango by 6pm. Besides, on this road trip, Ana and I made a deal never to repeat anything either of us has done. I had come to Garden of the Gods way back in 1994 after college graduation to visit Andrew, whose parents lived in Pueblo. It was our most romantic time together. Yet I remember how hard the altitude was for me and I had panic attacks at night. I didn’t really sleep the entire time we were here (and that wasn’t because Andrew and I had just started dating!). Now, down at 6,000, I could hardly notice it compared to 14,110!

We rushed down the Interstate 25, passing rolling ranchland and the town of Pueblo, where Andrew’s parents lived in 1994. I reflected on all the time that has passed since then. We’ve grown as a couple and have been through so much together! Yet he is not here with me. I believe the most mature thing Andrew and I can do as a married couple is respect our independent lives and give each other freedom. Though I miss him, I am fine, free, and know that he’s waiting for me at home. Besides, Ana says we’re still codependent because we talk several times a day.

We soon made it west on Highway 160. We passed the detour to Taos and WISHED we could drive 78 miles to see this famous place. We passed the Great Sand Dunes National Park and moaned with regret that we couldn’t get yet another stamp in our national park passport. Oh, there’s so much to see! We stopped briefly at Alamosa and collected water from the Rio Grande, which starts in these southern Rockies as a small creek. This time of year, though, this small creek was tumbling down rigorously!

I have been on inhaled colistin, an antibiotic that comes in glass vials. I remove the tops with pliers and I save the bottles to collect water from each historical location. So far we have water from the Tennessee River, Buffalo River, Mississippi River, Beaver Lake in AR, and now from the RIO GRANDE!!!

We passed more small mountain towns with rolling green pastures and roaming cattle and horses. Large signs speckled the highway screaming, “Lots for Sale.” I wondered who had the right to own this land, and why would one person profit from a portion of this earth? This is the million dollar question of the native Ute people who lived here and roamed freely until Europeans came to conquer and own the land. It still doesn’t feel fair. I thought of the buffalo roaming the prairie and the freedom of spirit that the old Native Americans must’ve felt without a finite sense of ownership. The hills were indeed spiritual and no wonder Native cultures value the land so deeply.

That being said, our drive through the Rockies made my imagination wander. I wondered what my life would be like if I lived here- or in remote Tennessee, or Arkansas, or Nebraska? How would my attitudes towards life and people change? Would I be calmer with fewer demands and pressing things to do? Would I be a cowgirl, a farm girl, a meth addict? Would people be my friend if I didn’t look like them? Would I be alive? I imagine Andrew and I leaving the insane Bay Area culture and moving out here to this simpler life. We would live in a small cabin with internet access that gave us jobs. There’d be lots of open space in our yard where Rupie would run. We’d see the view of the Rockies from our bathroom window. We’d shovel snow in the winter and cross country ski to town. Would I survive if I lived 5 hours from the nearest transplant center? Could I handle the altitude if I ever got rejection? Would I be healthier because of the emphasis on outdoor activity? For once, I just like to not think of the medical details and dream of another life that could’ve been. It’s called freedom of spirit… And, yes, I know I’m romanticizing the country life.

We made our way from rolling hills to higher mountains, driving along the growing and fast running Rio Grande. We came to lakes and meadows, and snow patches. We stopped for more photos and breathtaking gasps at the land. We played “Rocky Mountain High” the entire time. The road passed gushing waterfalls along the steep rocks next to the highway. We passed Wolf Creek ski area that had closed for the season, and was around 9000 feet altitude. Our little Honda rev’d at 5 RPMs and 40 mph. Soon we passed Pagosa Springs, and then finally to Durango. Our first sign of this mountain resort was a massive Home Depot and WalMart, and we felt disappointed at the ugly takeover of greedy corporate America.

We made our way to historic downtown, with its western style brick buildings. We saw steak houses, t-shirt shops, Indian jewelry stores, and the first Rocky Mountain chocolate factory, as well as the usual Starbucks (ugh). Just a few blocks from downtown, we arrived at the home of our new friend Denise S. Denise had emailed us two months ago, saying that she learned about our book from the People Magazine in December and read it, and absolutely LOVED it. She was a former genetic counselor who taught at Fort Lewis College here in Durango. She emailed that she related to our story as a mom, as a woman, as a human being. We told her we’d be driving through Colorado this week and she arranged a lecture for us at Mercy Hospital. First, she warmly invited us to have dinner at her home with her family. Denise lives in a quaint home built in 1920 with her husband Kevin, 15 year old Dylan, 13 year old Matt, and her in-laws Don and Kate. We admired the remodeling that Grandpa Don had done ten years earlier. The home was immaculate and uncluttered, and decorated in my favorite cabin-in-the-woods theme. We also met her best friend Jackie. Everyone greeted us with open arms and loving smiles. Don grilled chicken and ribs and we enjoyed a fabulous healthy meal outside on the patio. We learned about each others’ lives. Dylan and Matt were the most precocious and mature teen boys I’ve ever encountered. They talked openly about their school, plans, activities and philosophies. While we enjoyed fabulous chocolate cake baked by Jackie, we saw Matt do a few magic tricks. He does magic on the side, at parties as a hobby. He was really good, and I couldn’t figure out how he did the tricks! Ana and I felt so incredibly loved and welcomed by these strangers, who were simply moved by our book. There is something extraordinary about Denise, for going above and beyond in her kindness to invite us to her home for a meal as well as organize and plan a lecture for us! This is another miracle of my post-transplant life- to witness that there is more good in people than bad; that grace and generosity land in our laps from no where, that I learn how I want to be towards other people because of the kindness I’ve received from others.

We checked into the Rochester Hotel that night. The owner of the hotel, Kirk, with Denise’s inquiry, offered us two complimentary rooms just because we were coming into town for our book tour. I settled into my own room and enjoyed some private space to fall asleep on my own time. Ana always stays up later and gets up earlier.

The following morning, Tuesday, 5/20, Ana and I were treated to a gorgeous pancake breakfast with homemade coffee cake, granola and cut fruit in the lobby of our hotel. We ate with our hearts’ content. We highly recommend the Rochester Hotel in Durango! The staff was extremely polite and all details were attended to. Lauri and Kurt were to kind to offer us this fabulous hotel stay.

Ana and I took care of a few errands and then called Denise up. Together with Kevin, we took a short hike up through the hills and above to Fort Lewis College. We passed dense sage and blooming lupine, monkeyflower, paintbrush, and other wildflowers. We could see the snow-capped San Juan Mountains in the distance, and the sprawl of Durango below. We saw the brown muddy water of the Animus River that ran through town, and the biking/walking path that ran parallel to it. Down below, we saw a few adventurous rafters braving the waters. In the north we saw more Rocky Mountains and deep canyons leading into Silverton and Ouray. Ana left with Kevin so she could meet Trent, who was flying in that day. Denise and I continued our hike up to Lion’s Den, a gorgeous lookout point at the end of the college. We chatted the entire time about her job, kids, life, attitudes, etc. It is amazing how quickly strangers become friends! Denise and I then walked to a local pizza joint for a quick lunch. I bid farewell, and walked back to my hotel for a quick shower. On the way I went by downtown and peeked into a few shops. I bought a caramel apple (my favorite) from the original Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory! I then showered and prepared for our 4pm talk at Mercy Hospital.

Denise picked Ana, Trent who had arrived in Durango, and me up at the Rochester Hotel at 3:30pm and drove us to Grandview, the next town, to Mercy Hospital. We are so blessed that Denise exerted a great deal of effort in recruiting attendees. Maria’s Bookstores ordered and sold books at the event, with Denise’s help. Myung at Mercy Hospital helped to organize the event as well.

There were about four CF families at the event, about 4 other health care providers, and the rest were colleagues, friends and students of Denise. Jen and Courtney, CF parents who were unable to attend the event but helped organize it, were very much in our thoughts. A 13 year old boy with CF named Tavis was there, and he was in yesterday’s Durango newspaper with us in two articles about cystic fibrosis. He was so brave to be so public! He is fortunately very healthy but has to drive 7 hours to go to the CF center in Denver! In sum there were about 60 people present. We gave a one hour talk with our usual powerpoint. We had at least 8 great questions and overall, enjoyed this receptive crowd. We sold 12 books and signed them afterwards.

This was our last book event of 12 that we had during our 40 day road trip. What an adventure we’ve had! I’d say this last event ended with a bang. Denise’s energy, love, compassion, commitment, dedication and hospitality sure made this the best event ever! How special for a stranger to go out of her way to move a whole small town to pay attention to our little book. We ended this wonderful day with a beautiful dinner outside on a patio of a lovely Mediterranean restaurant. Ana, Trent, Denise, Kate and Don and I raised our glasses to give thanks for our special union, for a successful end to our book tour, and to continued health and friendship between all of us. We bid farewell to these lovely people and returned to the hotel to fall fast asleep. I sighed a deep sigh of relief that despite my cold and cough, I had survived my book tour. Hallelujah!

Wednesday, 5/21/08
We woke early again and ate to our hearts’ content at the Rochester Hotel breakfast. I enjoyed homemade hot chocolate, coffee cake and muffins, and an asparagus and cheese omelet with potatoes and toast. It was fabulous and a much-needed change from styrofoam waffles at our cheap motels. I enjoyed to watch Trent and Ana have this romantic time together, like Andrew and I did when we were newly dating…. Except I was here… We packed up and head out bidding farewell to the kind Rochester staff, around 10am. We made a quick trip to the gas station, post office and supermarket and then head west on 160 to Mesa Verde National Park. It was about 70 miles away and we passed more rolling pastureland accented by high mountain peaks, with more snowy peaks in the distance. The sky held ominous clouds but it remained warm enough to don only tanktops and shorts. We finally arrived at Mesa Verde and I used my National Parks pass to get in free (best purchase of my life)! Like the name implies, this was a massive flat mesa of land covered in low green brush, with harsh red sandstone cliffs around the edges.

We spent a good amount of time roaming the campground for the ideal campground. By 12pm we rushed to Far View Visitor Center to stamp our passports and read the information. This land was occupied by Ancient Puebloans, formerly called Anasazi (which means ancient enemy, so modern Puebloans requested the name change). The park was 50000 acres large and home to some of the best preserved cliff dwellings. These dwellings were studied by archeologists who dated them back to 1200-1300. Ana, Trent and I bought tickets to the 2:30 Cliff Palace tour, and I bought a ticket for the challenging Balcony House tour. I left Trent and Ana to go at their own pace, while I rushed ahead to run down the trail to see Spruce Tree House, the best preserved cliff dwelling in the park. I only had a short time, so I ran down the trail, snapped a few photos, and ran back up. Later I learned that I missed the petroglyphs on the walls and the only preserved kiva, a ceremonial home dug into the cliff dwelling floor, covered with soil where one enters through a ladder through a small hole in the middle. Bummer! Quantity versus quality! I tried to pack so much in, I missed the details.

I got back into the car and rushed down the road to Cliff Palace. A ranger named David gave an excellent history of the ancient Puebloans. The early arrivers from Mexico (they are descendants of Mayans/Incas, not Eskimos from the north) built primitive holes in the ground where they lived, around 600AD. The next group built one story homes, partially underground, made of rocks and adobe/clay. These homes were dated around 700AD. The next generation built two story homes around 900-1100 AD. The cliff dwellings were the latest architecture. There were around 900 cliff dwellings within the park boundaries, but nearly 40000 documented in the Southwest region. He speculated on why the dwellings were built and suddenly abandoned- drought, defense, enemies, spirituality, etc., but the exact reason remains unknown. Some of the circular towers used extremely advanced architecture to ensure stability and perfect sloping of the cone-towers. Many of the towers of separate cliff dwellings had windows that faced each other, indicating some communication strategy among towers on distant cliffs.

The modern Puebloan tradition helped to shape some understanding of the ancient traditions of the cliff dwellers. They farmed on the mesa top in the rich soil, planting corn, beans and squash. They depended on the rainfall (average 18 inches/year), so they often suffered from drought. Many of the windows of the cliff dwellings and towers faced the sun to exactly angle the equinoxes and solstices, probably for farming. The towers and walls were finely masoned with skill. The ancient Puebloans used a lunar calendar of 18 days each, and they were skilled astronomers. They also excelled at farming, using a variety of corn from South America that was human engineered- corn did not exist in nature. It seemed they traded because stone axes were found in this region but that type of stone never existed here. With these tools, they carved foot and hand holds into the softer sandstone rock so many of the people climbed in and out of the steep dwellings before and after tending to the crops. They hunted large animals during good years and rodents during bad years. They had domesticated turkeys (whose feathers they used to make blankets) and dogs. The ancient Puebloans knew hundreds of medicinal uses for the local plants, like the juniper berries, which could be boiled and used to treat lung infections. Also, the yucca was revered because the fibers were used for clothes, rope and baskets, and the roots for food and medicine. Each clan, or family, had their own kiva, a spiritual chamber dug into the floor of the dwelling. There was a middle fireplace and a well-designed ventilation system. They had a mano and metate, or mortar and pestle device to grind corn. The ranger said most people had terrible teeth so the corn had to be ground down into a soft powder to make edible bread. This was a hard life and the average life expectancy was around 25 years.

Overall, I gained a tremendous amount of respect for people who lived in these harsh climates. I felt their spirits everywhere I went. I appreciated the ranger’s expansive knowledge, and I could sense his respect as well. At 3:30 I separated from Ana and Trent and rushed to my next tour of Balcony House. I passed the Ute reservation entrance; unfortunately, this is not native Ute land, but the Ute were just put here by the federal government. Go figure!

Balcony House was a ‘strenuous’ ¼ mile tour which involved climbing up a 30 foot ladder (That’s why Ana didn’t sign up for it). I also had to crawl through a space tunnel, 12 inches wide and 30 inches high. It was quite adventurous, and I felt good to be independent. This was a less well preserved cliff dwelling but it had wooden stakes coming out of the adobe dating to 1200. There were two more open kivas, large (10 foot diameter) pits used for ceremonies. The ranger Denise gave background about the ancient Puebloan’s belief systems. I saw a little bit of wall painting still preserved after all these years. Denise explained that there was an enclosed wall that may have been used for ceremonial dances (or to keep children from falling off the cliff). There were two small rooms with windows facing the sun during equinox, so it is guessed that this cliff dwelling was used primarily for spiritual ceremonies.

I finished this tour and drove myself to more remains of ancient villages, on the 6 mile “Mesa Top Loop”. It is guessed that nearly 50000 people once lived in the Mesa Verde region called Chapin Mesa, because of all the evidence of villages. Now what mostly remains are rock layers or short rock walls in the shape of houses and walls and kivas. I stopped at many different sites to examine more ancient ruins. The sun was setting and it was a race against time to see as much as possible. My last stop was the Sun Temple, a large, well-preserved structure of many rooms and compartments, with no evidence of living quarters. It is dated to 1250AD. The windows faced the sun at important astronomical dates and it was believed that this building was used for worship. Nearly 30 rooms remained unfinished, indicating that people left before it was completed. No one knows why.

I drove twice the speed limit to get back to the campground in time. I passed the setting sun and glorious red and yellow clouds. I witnessed sun rays beaming to earth through breaks in the sky- I call these “highways to Heaven,” and I thought of my friends who had died, making their way to Heaven or coming down to visit. I felt saddened that I had heard most recently that Kari had died, my CF friend who was transplanted 6 weeks before me. She suffered to much post-transplant. I don’t know why I have this health that she never had. I wished she could see this glorious earth. I told myself she could, but I really don’t know. Maybe where she is is ever more beautiful. I was moved to tears by the intense beauty of the land. That has never happened to me before, to cry in the car because of the scenery. I felt fully alive, present, aware of all the life force around me.

I met Ana and Trent late to set up camp. While Trent and I put up our tents next to each other, Ana prepared charcoal. We cut up chicken, potatoes, carrots and onions and put them into foil pouches, and placed them on the charcoal. I washed and made salad while Ana baked beans with her gas stove. We enjoyed a romantic beautiful meal as the sun set over Mesa Verde. It was nice to see Trent adjust to the dominant Stenzel ways. It was cold, around 45 degrees and we all bundled in our down jackets. The stars were spectacular, almost unreal in their clarity. Stars shine every night yet we take them for granted in light-polluted cities. I could gaze into the dark sky forever. There are bright stars and clusters of dim stars faint in the distance. Surely, I think, there are others looking up in the sky, millions of light years away, wondering if there are others like them. Stars beckoning, my tired body forced me to ignore them and I settled into my tent and slept deeply. Trent and Ana slept in their own tent a foot away. I guess I snored and heard about that the next morning.

The next morning, Wednesday, 5/22, we woke early and had toasted bagels, instant oatmeal, and tea for breakfast. I packed sandwiches for everyone. We packed up our camp and made one more visit to Mesa Verde. I went on my own while Ana and Trent went to Spruce Tree House and the museum. I went on the 2.5 mile Spruce Trail down the canyon, and then up the 2.5 mile Petroglyph Trail. I jogged/walked because I had to meet Ana and Trent at 12pm. Again, I rushed through the trails, staring at the ground to watch my step. In this way, I deprived myself from paying close attention to the land. If I looked up the canyon, I could see small caves and colored canyon walls. Black streaks down the rock (magnesium/iron oxide) called desert varnish looked like wallpaper. I saw sparrows darting in and out of canyons. Twisted junipers with their gnarled black bark shot out of the rock. Large ravens swooped through the canyon. Indian paintbrush and penstemon speckled the hills with red. The air was clear. I passed two people on the trail. I often stopped to catch my breath and looked up, surrounded by hundreds of feet of rock wall. There were sporadic wildflowers all over, red, yellow and white blossoms hidden in the brush. It felt good to move at my own pace, to test my body at this altitude. I felt strong and proud to hike by myself. I could soak in the land, more than if I was distracted by others hiking with me. I gasped at the towering rocks that I passed. My isolation allowed me to reflect on how I was falling in love with this land. Much like falling in love with a man, this land makes me want to gaze at it indefinitely. I gain a better sense of myself in his presence. I want to touch the soil, the rock, the trees, and never let go. It feels so good to be this close to this natural land. I want to breathe in its scent. I could talk to it forever, and listen to its gentle rhythm of its music, as the wind blew and birds chirped. And I never want to leave its side.

Unfortunately, I rushed and didn’t have a guide to find the Petroglyphs, so I didn’t see any paintings on the rock. Instead I imagined myself alone, some 800 years earlier, on this trail, bumping into my friends who lived in the villages above. I would be barefoot and naked instead of wearing plastic clothes made in China. I’d have died at 25 instead of being artificially sustained at 36, breathing through someone else’s lungs. I’d still worry about the people in my life, who needs or wants me, and how I can be helpful to others. I’d still be me.

I met Ana and Trent relatively on time. Trent took a nap in the back of the car. Ana and I drove back through the park towards the exit. We stopped at Far View village, another ancient Puebloan site from 1200. It was an extensive collection of many buildings, and probably was the center of village life centuries ago. On our drive to the park exit, where my car was parked, Ana swerved suddenly because a coyote darted out from the bushes. We slowed to watch it. A motorcyclist stopped to take pictures. We stopped to just watch the coyote approach the motorcyclist, wavering and just curious. Then it made its way back into the bushes. Trent freaked out in the back seat, thinking we almost killed ourselves over a coyote. But we believe these animal visitors are spirits and it was imperative to protect it. An argument ensued in the car.

Anyway, I picked up my car at the campground and Ana and Trent separately while I followed to Arches National Park, about 2 ½ hours away near Moab. We entered Utah between Cortez and Monticello on highway 491. God forgive, I made a quick stop at Walmart- which I never do- because my camera disk was full, so I bought a new one. North and westward we went, and we passed more rolling pasture land and cows mounting each other. This was spring! All of the animal kingdom was in love! I saw turkey vultures and myna birds flying quickly away from the road kill on the highway as my car approached. I saw deer and antelope in the distant hillsides. I saw darkened streaks on the highway, the only remains of a deer, a rodent or something that was killed by a car and whose organic remains were consumed by sunlight and tires. Nothing remained except a faint stain on the road. That is how fleeting our lives are!

Of course, I slowed down to take a photo through the car window at the “Welcome to Utah” sign. This was our 23rd state! We entered the park at about 4:30pm and made it to the Visitor Center for a fascinating introductory film and some interpretive displays (with of course a trip to the gift shop). The days end too quickly and we rushed through the park to see some of the sites. The road cut through magnificent red rocks spires, fins (fish fin-shaped rocks protruding through the land in rows). We stopped many times to take pictures, and ooh and aah at the land. It was absolutely closer to Heaven than we’ve ever been. No words and photos can do justice to describe the spectacular scenery. With rare cell phone reception, Ana frantically called hotels, the day before Memorial Day weekend, to book rooms. We couldn’t afford the time to camp when we wanted to see Arches as much as possible. We made our way past the Courthouse Towers, vast huge red stone rock towers with names like the “Three Gossips”, “The Organ” and “Tower of Babel.” We went to Balanced Rock, which, as the name implies, is a massive tower 130 feet high with a gigantic boulder (a different type of rock) balancing on top. We took a short hike to the North and South Window arches. These arches are created when salt deposits from ancient oceans get covered by layers of heavier sediments. The salt underneath buckled by its weight, causing these unusual rock formations. Over millions of years, the harder Entrada sandstone on top layered over softer Windgate or Navajo sandstone, so rain/snow/wind eroded out the softer sandstone under the heavier sandstone, and arches are created.

Trent and Ana were so happy to enjoy this adventure together, after all they’ve been through. I watched them be lovey-dovey, and tried to keep a distance so they could cherish this moment together. It seemed unreal to be walking through this country with Ana, who could hardly walk a year earlier! How fortunate we are! Trent scrambled up the rocks with me, and we were kids in a candy store! Ana limped behind us, slower but just as determined to take in the land. We were all sponges, soaking up the life-affirming beauty of our earth. We stood under towering rock arches, gasping at the architect of rain and wind and snow that created this unusual landscape. We tested fate as we stood under the arches, imagining that if they broke right then and there, our lives would be over. This beauty was so extremely, that if I died right then and there, it would be ok. Luckily, that didn’t happen.

Oddly, we spent a lot of time with our faces behind a lens rather than focusing on the beauty before us! We wanted to grasp these moments forever to show our friends and family back home in photos. This is the life of the modern tourist… We felt so small, in time and space, compared to these rocks that were millions of years old. I felt like my life, my book, my time is so insignificant in the grand scheme of nature.

As usual, the clouds were just as magnificent as the land. Each time the sun shone through the clouds, the red/brown/green/grey colors of the rocks would change, and we would gasp in amazement. Trent and I pushed the limits of light, and scampered up double arch as the sun set. The breeze through the arch was made our eyes water. Thank goodness sandstone has good grip, because we climbed up 70 degree walls!

The sun was setting and we were exhausted from a poor camping nights’ sleep. On the drive back to Moab, Ana ordered a pizza and we picked it up, only to eat at 9pm in the overpriced Days Inn hotel room.

We are pushing our energy and time limits and trying to see as much as possible. Ana and Trent are getting along very well, and I am giving them space to enjoy a romantic time together. I settled into my own hotel room for privacy and reflection.

This is a super long entry. There is so much to say, and this is truly for my memory. I apologize if it’s overwhelming. That is how I feel! But I wish you were here and we pray everyone can appreciate our planet’s glorious lands, fortunately, saved in National parks for all to enjoy.

Please take care, and best wishes, Isa

5/18/08

Isa ended the last blog post with a few words about our dinner with my donor family in Omaha. It was another special evening, of good conversation and connection, learning about the Dorn family and their roots in Nebraska. I was honored to be invited to their special family reunion time together, and to meet James’ cousin and her identical twin daughters. Funny, isn’t it- both my donor and Isa’s have twins in the family!

One of the many gifts of our road trip is connecting with people from all over the country due to our CF and transplant communities. And of course, meeting my donor family in the middle of the country is an absolute highlight. Who would have ever imagined this would happen? They are loving, fun, united people who respect family and country. I learn from them with each encounter.

The following day was our speaking engagement at the University of Nebraska Medical Center CF Family Education Conference. The UNMC CF Center serves about 300 CF kids and adults and is a top-notch CF care center. Upon our arrival, we began booksigning at a booth provided for us prior to the opening of the talks. Dr. Preston Campbell, chief medical advisor for the CF Foundation, came up to us and gave us compliments, calling us the “CF Rock Stars.” We certainly weren’t worthy of his compliments- we were the ones humbled to meet this very distinguished “celebrity” in the CF world. I felt like a groopie. He has done so much to push innovative CF research through the pipeline to advance new therapies. What a surprise to meet him!

Our talk was well received. It’s always wonderful to meet other CF adults and parents of young children. There are those who have non-classical CF with late diagnoses and functioning pancreases, and those whose toddlers are already culturing pseudomonas. Such a range of disease states, but we still have shared genes, making us family in a way. No matter where we live- East coast, West Coast, middle America- we connect immediately.

Interestingly, our talk was given in the Durham Research Center, a building designed by my architect friend Mike who is on the CFRI Board with me and whose daughter has CF. What a small world!

After our meeting, we were met by Tim, the brother of our dear mentor and friend , Terry who passed away from CF in 2003. Terry had his transplant the same summer as me in 2000 and unfortunately caught a serious infection in 2003. He was a social worker, a philosopher and role model to many - a sage person, who is quoted in our book (page 101), writing a passionate passage about being in an eternal Greek battlefield while we fight our CF.

We hadn’t seen Tim since Terry’s passing, but we were welcomed to his home to have dinner and spend the night. Their home was located in the outskirts of Omaha, next to… you guessed it, a cornfield. We met his wife, Denise, and two beautiful daughters and enjoyed a wonderful homemade meal of corn, potatoes and Nebraska filet mignon. It was scrumptious. Tom , Tim’s twin brother, joined as well and we laughed as we reminisced about Terry and joked about twin stories and life in Nebraska. Tim was so generous and presented us with t-shirts bearing logos from John Deere (tactor company) and Got Corn?

The next morning, spoiled with a carepackage from Tim and Denise, that contained breakfast muffins and snack foods, we embarked on our 700 mile drive to Colorado Springs.

I left Omaha feeling that the Nebraskans we met were wonderful, warm, welcoming people, a refreshing change from Arkansans (no offense). We drove through Nebraskan countryside- vast farmland of newly planted corn, wheat and alfalfa. It was lush and green, with migrating birds singing loudly as we slowed for red lights before heading onto the Interstate. Once on the Interstate we saw rolling green hills, cut by deep crevaces of wooded areas where creeks ran. Multiple state parks and historical landmarks teased us from the road but we couldn’t stop in the interest of time.  At last, about 100  miles later, we stopped for a quick detour to Fort Kearny, a military post during the 1840-1870’s . This fort was established to protect the thousands of wagon trains of settlers heading West on the Oregon trail after the California Gold Rush of 1849 beckoned them west. It was also a headquarter during the Indian Wars, and was the sight of training for the Pawnee Scouts, who sided with the US Army to help fight the Sioux and Cheyenne. There was much bloodshed in this region. We walked around the grounds, admiring a museum display and reconstructed relics from the time- covered wagons, blacksmith tools, and of course, the fort itself. Images from Dances with Wolves, one of my favorite movies, filled my mind.

We drove back to the Interstate, crossing a bridge over the Platte River, which ran parallel to the Oregon Trail. The view was breathtaking- a deep moving river, embraced by cottonwood trees and green marsh grasses. Migrating swallows buzzed around chirping, forming an orchestra and dance together. This region is famous for the annual migration of the great Sandhill cranes- millions fly down from Canada each Spring and attract birders from all over the world. This migration is also listed in the book about the 1000 things to see before you die. Unfortunately the cranes had already migrated through the region in March and April.  We saw locals Nebraskans pushing their canoes into the banks of the river to embark on a Sunday morning paddle. That’s what life in the countryside is like.

We passed Kearny’s other famous landmark- a great archway museum that hangs over Interstate 80. It is a frontier museum that was somehow strategically built over the freeway, like an overpass, so that all tourists would dare not miss it. I deem it like a miniature version of St. Louis’ arch.

The next six hours of driving were like watching a constant movie of rolling green hills and farmlands. Someone once said that going through Nebraska and Kansas was going to be boring, but I beg to differ. Never once was I bored with God’s artestry. We passed small towns- many of which start to look alike after a while- they have a post office, a Main Street, several churches, a cemetary, few simple houses with vinyl siding, a local diner with a flashing neon sign, and of course, a junk yard. The “larger” towns boasted hotels and gas stations along the Interstate, a Walmart, multiple fast food restaurants, and of course a token Chinese restaurant whose marquee is written in stereotypical kung-fu writing. All along the small town roads we saw John Deere tractors, pick up trucks and hay bales. On the small highways, brown and white signs displaying the nearest State Park or recreational area only led to a dirt path leading miles down the road. Too risky for Honda Civic tires that are 8000 miles worn. We played John Cougar Melloncamp’s “Small Town” and Dixie Chick’s “Wide Open Spaces” as we drove. We passed roadkill of coyote, deer and racoon, who met their fate in the most unfortunate way.

Ok- I got to take a break from writing because we just got pulled over by the cops. (note : pulse increase, sweaty brow, some kiss ass….) Ok he let us go with a warning. Isa was driving 75 on a 65 mph road. Whew… (meanwhile as we start driving again, a bunch of cars pass us).

We see miles and miles of green pastures, with distant farmhouses, barns and silos. It is absolutely the Heartland. As we entered Kansas the land flattens and the trees disappear. Kansas is true prairie country- flat brown grass (wheat?) for miles and miles- as if the horizon melts into itself and the land just drops off. I wonder if people out here get claustrophobic?  I close my eyes and imagine the time when 30 million buffalo roamed these grasslands.

We see farms of longhorn cattle, enclosed by wire fences, and other cattle of all shapes, sizes and colors. We pass pastures of grazing horses, whose brown bare backs illuminate in the backdrop of green hills and baby blue cloudless skies. I saw miniatures, shetlands, and even donkeys in the backyards of farmers.

In the late afternoon, we enter Colorado. Being back in the West gives us a sigh of relief for suddenly it doesn’t feel so far from home. We are racing to the Garden of the Gods ) a park in Colorado Springs) before dark. Gotta get that sightseeing in! Before us stand the snow peaked Rockies inviting us in the distance. Could life get any better? This is the first time I have been well enough to come to this continental masterpiece.

Oh God, Isa just put in John Denver’s CD in again- this time it’s Rocky Mountain High that she will play incessantly instead of Take Me Home Country Roads.  The words resonate with us, “He was born in the summer of his 37^th year, coming home to a place he’s never been before…”

Wow- we just passed a sign stating that the elevation is 6000 feet high! We didn’t even notice that our drive was a very gradual ascent.

We will stay at the home of the mother of a CTDN (California Transplant Donor Network) coordinator.  Again another connection from our community. Tomorrow we have reservations to board a railway to Pike’s Peak, a 14,000 foot high Rocky Mountain Peak. That will be such a gift to go that high and I hope both of our lungs will cooperate.

I am truly high on life. I can’t believe in 9 days our journey will be over. We have wonderful memories, a carload of souvenirs and much footage on our video camera and digital camera. Each day is a blessing.

 ANA

5/16/08

Dear friends,

I hope you all had a wonderful week.  Ana and I are driving north on the I-29 from the Ozarks in Arkansas to Missouri, onward to Omaha, Nebraska!

We have had an eventful few days in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas!  We wanted to see the Ozarks ever since we were kids, when we read the book, “Where the Red Fern Grows,” about two dogs and their boy master in the Ozarks.  From the book we imagined lush green forests, raccoons and the distant barks of coonhounds like Rupie! We know Rupie would’ve loved to roam freely through these woods… After 4 weeks without her, we are in serious withdrawal.  Only her little photos on the steering wheel ease our missing of her.

On Monday, 5/12, Ana and I drove across the bridge in Memphis, over the Mississippi River, and entered Arkansas.  As usual, it was a rush with our cameras to capture the “Welcome to Arkansas” sign, as we’ve done for each state we’ve entered.  Arkansas is our 20^th state!  We were greeted at the Arkansas Welcome Center with a free light lunch, hot dogs and chips, and were given free packets of Arkansas rice! This was enough to charm us into liking this state!  Plus, I proudly wore my Hillary t-shirt across the border!  Well, Ana already covered in our blog our adventures in Arkansas on our second day here.  While driving, as Ana mentioned, we listened to a radio talk show.  A lady called in about her invasive Johnson weeds.  The DJ explained that Johnson weeds have special root systems, and “they get everywhere, they’re kind of like Hillary, you just can’t get rid of them.”  Needless to say, I zipped my jacket up to hide my Hillary shirt as we entered the deep Ozark woods. 

After our hike in the rain, rather than staying at a romantic and beautiful Buffalo River cabin, we drove north looking for better rates.  I wish we could’ve camped!  But by Monday, I had a full-blown cold, and sleeping in a tent didn’t sound healing.  The night before, Ana and I slept head to toe with masks on in the tent, and it was a rough night…

We passed more rolling green hills, dense forests, run down barns and vast farmland.  We stopped at antique stores and bought a few Arkansian souvenirs.  The quilts, jams and homegrown honey were the specialties of the region.  The storekeepers were quite friendly, especially Nellie at Nellie’s Ozark Crafts. She said tourism in these remote areas has suffered because of the price of gas.

We ended up in unattractive Harrison, Arkansas, for another cheap hotel night.  When we got gas in Garfield, AR, people literally stopped across the street to look at us.  Maybe it had to do with the fact that I was taking a photo of the Trail of Tears sign off the highway.  But the staring persisted with people turning their necks until I thought they’d break off.  After intense staring I finally waved and smiled and people waved back.  Simple curiosity! 

In Harrison, we slept well.  I needed to rest and heal from this cold.  Miraculously, Ana did not catch anything.  On Wednesday, May 14, we relaxed until noon, and then head west on Highway 62, the Arkansas Scenic Byway to Eureka Springs.  Eureka Springs is famous for healing spring waters that attracted many sick people in the 1800s.  One spring supposedly cured a woman of blindness!  The town is nestled against a rocky hillside and there are a dozen springs that come out of those hills.  The city did a great job of creating parks around each spring, with flowers and benches and lots of historical signs.  There are also blocks and blocks of nicely kept up historic Victorian homes, many of which are bed and breakfasts.  This was a delightful quaint touristy town with many old-fashioned buildings.  It reminded me of a mix between Santa Fe and a European Alps village.  There were high-end shops with tevas, nalgenes and hemp clothing for sale and rainbow flags in front.  People spoke without an accent, and mostly came from elsewhere.  This town is famous for attracting many artists and writers, and the galleries were gorgeous.  Next week is a “Festival of the Arts,”- wish we could stay!  Ana and I shopped a bit and bought some divinity (to die for!) and fudge.  Prices were cheaper but our car couldn’t carry more souvenirs!  Needless to say, we fell in love with this little oasis in the Ozarks, a seemingly liberal bastion in the middle of conservative northwest Arkansas!

Ana and I then rushed west on Highway 62, eager to find cheaper accommodations.  We also wanted to see Pea Ridge Military Park and the Trail of Tears.  We drove along the gorgeous Beaver Lake and arrived at Pea Ridge at 5:05pm and the park had just closed.  The unfriendly ranger was unsympathetic so we decided to come back the next day.  So we drove onward to Rogers, Arkansas, and went to the Hobbs State Park and Conservation Area.  I was itching to hike because I needed to open my lungs up to combat the cold I had, that was fortunately already going away.  We found a delightful trail, a 1.5-mile hike through new growth trees called Shadow Hollow.  It touched a muddy arm of Beaver Lake but otherwise provided no lake view.  Ana did great hiking on her cast!  We saw many squirrels and a hawk swooped right above us.  I jogged ahead of Ana.  In the middle of her hike, a loud screech scared the crap out of Ana- it must’ve been a screech owl!  After this short hike, we remained unfulfilled and went up highway 303 toward Beaver Lake.  We ended up at a US Army Corps of Engineers Rocky Branch Park and paid $4 to enter for a 6:30pm hike.  The ranger told us, “the boy scouts built the trail a few years back.”  Once on the underused trail, we walked over piles and piles of last falls’ leaves, dried on the floor.  The trees were larger and the path darker.  We followed the orange ties on the trees for the trail and went up and down hills.  Still, no lake view to be found!  Finally, the trail ended at an abandoned bathroom hut littered with beer bottles, and covered in graffiti.  We were so disappointed.  On our way back, however, we saw a family of 4 armadillos scavenging in the dried leaves.  They were pink/gray and intensely hunting for insects.  They were the size of small rabbits and I wonder if they were babies.  We watched for a while and walked quietly towards them for photos.  We’ve never seen armadillos in the wild before!  Well, when Ana had enough she just started marching on the leaves and the armadillos panicked and raced away to their hut, a little pile of trees and twigs.  That alone was worth $4!

We drove around Beaver Lake looking for a scenic cabin or motel, overlooking the water.  Many places were abandoned. Motel offices were closed by 8pm.  There was a fishing tournament so many places were filled. Finally, we head to Rogers, Arkansas, a town of fast food, strip malls, and chain stores and stayed in the cheezy America’s Best Value Inn for $49 that night. We ate leftover curry and salad, and went to bed quickly.

Yesterday, Thursday, 5/15, we woke late and missed breakfast.  We had boiled eggs (thanks to our hot pot), yogurt, bananas and bagels with peanut butter from our stashes in the car.  We headed straight to Pea Ridge Military Park and got our National Parks Passports stamped.  Ana and I are on a mission to fill up this booklet.  I have had mine since the late 90’s and it’s amazing that I’ve already seen more than several dozen national parks and monuments.  Everytime we see a brown-and-white sign, we get excited to get another stamp in our book!  At this visitor center, we saw an interesting video about this battle, where over 1000 Union soldiers and 2000 Confederate soldiers died in March 7-8, 1862.  This battle determined that Missouri became a Union state. It was the tipping point for Union victory, because once MO became Union they had control of the waterways of the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers.  The park also included 2.5 miles of the infamous Trail of Tears, where in 1830’s the federal government forced Indian tribes such as the Choctaw, Cherokee, Creek, Chicksaw and Seminoles to leave their lands and settle in Oklahoma Territory.  Thousands died on the long hard road where they had to walk 15-20 miles a day.  It was only in late 1990’s that an official Trail of Tears designated national landmark commemorating this path was created. 

Earlier that morning, Andrew had called me and told me I was accepted to play the bagpipe at the US Transplant Games Donor Recognition Ceremony.  I felt honored but serious performance anxiety has already kicked in.  I panicked that I hadn’t played my pipes in several weeks and therefore I carried my pipes and played them on the Trail of Tears.  This was meant purely out of respect and reverance.  I played Amazing Grace for about a mile as well as other songs.  I imagined all the graves along the way, and the heartaches and pain as people left their homes to go to an unknown place.  In mid-May, this was the most beautiful path we’ve witnessed.  It was wet and muddy, so Ana wore several plastic bags over her foot and they swooshed when she walked.  On the path, we were surrounded by fresh green trees, blooming blackberry bushes, wildflowers, a rushing creek along the trail, and lush lawn in between dense forest.  We saw bright blue, yellow and red tiny birds, like none I’ve ever seen in California.  Ana spotted a grayish turtle on the ground, with yellow and black marks on its face.  It posed for our camera.  I saw deer jumping in the distant brush.  I wondered if these Indian people found any pleasure in their walk through nature, given their circumstances?  Granted, the Trail of Tears strategically was started in December, 1836, and so many died in the harsh winter.  If they had walked in the spring, could there be any joy to be in these surroundings at all? 

Our walk through the Trail of Tears was interrupted occasionally by Civil War signs to show where battles occurred, where the injured were cared for, where General Curtis (North) fought against General Van Dorn (South).  Confederate Generals McIntosh and McCullough both were shot dead by guerrilla yankees on open meadows here.  The Indians fought on the side of the Confederacy here!  There was so much more information about the Civil War than there was on the Trail of Tears… typical.  But both tragedies made us think how many bodies are resting under the soil here? How many ghosts are watching us walk along this historic route, hearing my pipes echo through the woods?

We felt so honored to be walking on this historic path.  Our lives are just specks in times as were those of the people who walked on this land before us- the Indians, the explorers, the settlers, and the Civil War soldiers.  Some stories are unknown, some are known and passed along, so we can remember and respect.  Again, our travels remind us that our lives are insignificant in the vast spectrum of time and space.  We are just part of one big continuum.

We finished our 2.5-mile gorgeous hike- the best yet- and returned to the car to change out of our muddy clothes.  Then we got back onto the highway, and head north from Rogers to the Missouri border.  It was mid-day and we ate sandwiches in the car.  We are still sticking to our daily $30 food budget!  We passed Carthage, the home of Precious Moments dust collectors, and we saw the signs to President Truman’s home.  Near Neosho, MO, we impulsively decided to stop at George Washington Carver’s National Monument, the place of his birth and upbringing.  We got our National Parks passport stamped again!  This was a fantastic stop. G.W. Carver is well known as the black scientist who found many uses for the peanut, but he also did so much more. He worked with Booker T Washington at Tuskegee and mentored many black and white colleagues.  The monument paid tribute to his philosophical and spiritual approach to science and life, and race relations.  I left there overwhelmed at how this man lived such a good, humble, righteous life; he truly was such a prophet. 

We drove onward after that great detour.  The skies opened up and we really wanted to camp, but because of my fragile health state, we decided to do motels again.  I looked up in a tourbook places to eat in Kansas City, MO, and we made a side trip at 7:30pm to enjoy a sit-down meal at Arthur Bryant’s famous Bar-b-que, on 18^th and Brooklyn.  This humble place opened in the 1920’s.opened in the 1920’s and was packed with people of all different colors who came here, like us, for extremely large portions and award-winning BBQ.  It boasts being a finalist in national BBQ sauce contests each year!  I ordered my meal at the counter from an old African American man with no teeth who talked in BBQ lingo- half slap, short end, long end, and I confused the order.  Nonetheless, I enjoyed a huge plate of ribs, coleslaw, and God-forbid, my nemeses, french fries and –dare I admit- Wonder bread.  Ana enjoye a massive plate of pulled pork, four pieces of Wonder Bread, and really intense baked beans.  These local foods are the best part of our trip!  The BBQ here was definitely worthy of awards.

From Kansas City, we tried to go further north for cheaper motels, and wento another 45 miles or so to St. Joseph, MO, the town where the Pony Express started and where Jesse James was killed.  Every little town we pass has a claim to fame!  St. Joseph is also home to the National Psychiatric Museum which boasts lobotomy instruments and the history of mental illness from the Middle Ages until now. Darn, we missed that one!  We settled at the Days Inn there and slept deeply. 

The next day, Friday, May 16, we woke late and got onto the I-29 north toward Omaha.  We drove on the border of Missouri, and we were so close to Kansas!  We were just a day’s drive from so many great places- Winterset, Iowa, with their covered bridges, even South Dakota and the Black Hills, Tallgrass Prairie in Kansas—Oh, the places to go!  Ana wants to see buffalo and I want to skim my fingers along prairie grass.  BUT…I must instead take care of this body.  My cold had pretty much disappeared, but my lungs felt irritated, and I decided to make a trip to the hospital to be checked for nasty viruses.  We wanted to get to the University of Nebraska Omaha Medical Center by the afternoon.  However, we saw yet another brown and white sign on the highway that beckoned us and we stopped at the Squaw Creek National Wildlife Refuge for a stamp in our passports and some exercise.  The weather was perfect- in the mid-70’s and sunny.  We admired the red-winged blackbirds, ducks, eagle, other waterfowl and muskrat dens in the marshland.  I took a short jog along their autotour route while Ana walked.  Ana reminded me that one year ago, she was listed for her second lung transplant.  How amazing we were here together!! As I saw Ana in the distance, I felt in complete awe of Ana’s strength.  Her cast, though wet and cracked from our hikes, does not stop her.  She hikes and walks at my pace; she sleeps later than me and wakes earlier, and she has not caught my cold.  She goes and goes!  My cold is a sign that I cannot push myself to her level; I have limits!

The Missouri/Nebraska/Kansas blue sky was marvelous- speckled with distant clouds just like the pictures I’ve seen of the plains.  The land is getting flatter and there are fewer trees.  Onward, we went and crossed into Iowa, our 21^st state!  This state boasts being 98% white.  Near Council Bluffs, IA, we re-entered Nebraska at the Missouri River, and went to UNMC.  Ana dropped me off at the ER to get an xray and my nose swabbed for parainfluenza, and she went instead to the Wildlife Safari Park halfway to Lincoln.  When I called her later, she was 25 feet away from a buffalo, oohing and ahhing, while I sat on a gurney in the ER getting checked.  Well, I guess she deserves it!

I ended up having a clear chest xray but elevated white blood cell count, so I received one dose of IV Avelox and was sent home on antibiotics.  I also am waiting for the results of my nose swab and sputum culture.  I hope it’s nothing serious.  This four hour visit to the ER is a minor detour on our ambitious trip, and I think it’s better to be safe than sorry.  The service was fabulous at UNMC and completed my siteseeing of Omaha!  Ana went ahead to a restaurant to meet John D., the last of her first lung donor James’ siblings that we haven’t met yet, who lives here in Omaha, Nebraska.  James’ other siblings flew from Oregon to join us for this gathering.  I was finally discharged and took a cab to meet everyone at Perkins Family Restaurant.  What a gift to meet James’ entire family and personally say thanks to John for his brother’s gift of life.

I will sign off for now and thank you for reading all my details.  Ana says I write too much, but this blog is for my memory as much as it is for your perusal.

I wish you all wellness and health. How I wish you were with me here! The Great Plains are beautiful!  Travel opens the mind and restores the soul, making home even more special in the end.  Yes, it also tests the body when not done in moderation… I hope you can experience some of this adventure as well.

 My hugs and love to you all, Isa

5/10/08- 11AM

Dear Friends,

I hope you are all enjoying a fabulous weekend. 

Ana and I are having a fabulous time in the South!  We absolutely LOVE Nashville! 

It’s Saturday, and Ana and I are in Mississippi (our 19^th state) right now, and just drove through Alabama (our 18^th state) on the Natchez Trace Parkway.  This is a 444-mile long National Park Service green roadway that runs from Nashville, Tennessee down to Natchez, Mississippi.  This parkway, like the Blue Ridge Parkway, boasts no commercial development on either side for a mile or more.  Isn’t that sad that this is an accomplishment? I wonder what El Camino Real in the San Francisco Bay Area would’ve looked like if the NPS protected it from development!

Anyway, Ana and I have driven on 184 miles of this gorgeous road, speeding above the speed limit because we are trying to get to Memphis by mid-afternoon.

The Natchez Trace Parkway is derived from ancient Indian paths developed by the Natchez, Choctaw and Chicksaw people. (Random fact: Chicksaw means bullshit in Japanese).  The explorer Hernando de Soto visited this area in 1540 before being kicked out by the Indians.  In the 18 and 19^th Century this path was used by white settlers to trade with the Indians; these people were called the Kainstucks because they used rafts to bring their goods down the Mississippi River to trade and then they’d walk home on the Natchez Trace.  Of significant interest to us was that Meriwether Lewis, of the great Western Lewis and Clark expedition, was returning from Louisiana on the Natchez Trace and was found dead on October 9, 1804 (supposedly by suicide). 

We passed vast bright green meadows sprinkled with yellow wildflowers.  The parkway is lined by deep, lush forests with tall, narrow green trees.  None were in bloom because we are quite south.  We saw quite a few wild turkeys including one that flew right past our windshield.  We envied the joggers and bicyclists who roamed the Natchez Parkway the healthy way.  This is a great place for a marathon or a century ride!  We stopped for a quick walk down to Jackson Falls and to see Meriwether Lewis’ gravesite.  We took some detours through country roads in Alabama and men waved to us from their tractors in the oncoming lane.  We passed signs that said “Front Porch Sale,” which we call ‘Garage Sales’ in California.  As we entered Mississippi, we saw deep swamps in either side of the road.  We passed vultures eating armidillo carcasses on the side of the road.  We passed a few Indian Mounds, burial sites from 0-1000AD. These are facinating glimpses into a prior civilization that thrived here and now there are no signs of these people any more.  The Chicksaw and Choctaw people are among the “Five Civilized Tribes” who were sent to Oklahoma in 1830.  How tragic.  We made it to Tupelo, Mississippi, birthplace of Elvis Presley.  We went to the NPS Tupelo Visitor Center and went to the Tupelo National Battlefield, a modest park demonstrating the region’s disgruntled recognition of this Union victory during the Civil War. 

We are blessed with ‘tourist speed’, AKA endless energy.  Ana and I are on a mission to see as much as possible during our siteseeing days, and our heads are saturated with historical and cultural facts.  We can’t remember very much and are mixing up our words with mental overload!  (Okay, that’s an excuse. We do that anyway.)

The last two days have been a whirlwind in Nashville.  We are blessed to experience a surge in our cultural literacy regarding country music.  Right now, I’m listening to a CD I bought at Ernie Tubb’s Record Store, and ‘Making Plans’ by Porter Wagoner and Dolly Parton is on. 

On Thursday, Ana and I woke around 8am and made reservations for last night’s Grand Ol’ Opry show, a great lifelong goal.  We then headed out during a massive rainstorm to the Country Music Hall of Fame.  This museum was extremely well done! The building has a piano keyboard motif outside, and an impressive dome for the Hall of Fame, with one of our favorite songs’ notes on the outside: ‘Will the Circle Be Unbroken.’ 

We were reminded of many of the names we’ve known but never bothered to appreciate, from Hank Williams, Loretta Lynn, Kris Kristofferson, Johnny Cash, Tammy Wynette, Gene Autry, Patsy Cline, Waylon Jennings, the Everly Brothers, Alabama, among many others.  The museum had great historical descriptions of each artist’s milestones and exhibited some of their clothes, instruments, notes and other relics.  We got very excited to see profiles of our favorites: Dixie Chicks, Tim McGraw, Allison Krauss, Dolly Parton, Garth Brooks, Brooks & Dunn, Barbara Mandrell, Willie Nelson (I was so into him in high school, with John Denver who was completely absent from the country music scene?!? Blasphemy…).  We learned about legends that we never even heard of: DeFord Bailey, the first African American country music star, and others like Connie Smith, Roy Acuff, Roy Orbinson, Chet Atkins, Eddy Arnold, Marty Robbins, Charley Price, and so many others that were before our time and not on the airways we listened to in California.  We read about the historical developments of bluegrass, honky tonk and country music. There’s a whole other universe out there!  We saw a special exhibit of Hank Williams and Hank Williams Jr. and walked through the Hall of Fame rotunda where we saw the plaques for Minnie Pearl and Willie Nelson, among so many others.

Afterwards, we went to Studio B, where Elvis recorded about half of his songs.  Many others used that recording studio, like Roy Acuff, Eddy Arnold and Dolly Parton.  While we were there on a tour, a British producer named Bob Geldhoff (sic?) came by and played on the piano that Elvis played on, among others.  He produced U2 and it was just chance for someone so prestigious to come by.

After the museum, Ana and I walked to Broadway and ate fabulous BBQ at Jack’s BBQ in the “District”, the touristy area with country music clubs and restaurants.  I pigged out on pulled pork, macaroni and cheese and green beans with cornbread.  After our late lunch we walked around downtown to the Cumberland River edge, and then down 2^nd street past the Wildhorse Saloon and Coyote Ugly clubs.  Heart-pumping country and bluegrass tunes flowed out of each venue we passed.  I bought some pralines at the 147 year old business“Pralines by Leon.”  We walked through Printer’s Alley and then to the neighborhood where Nashville’s black businesses thrived and the civil rights movement occurred in this city.  We passed the historic Ryman Theater, where the Grand Ol’ Opry was broadcasted for 30-plus years.  All of Nashville was mourning the death of Eddy Arnold who passed on 5/8.  Flags were at half mast and his name was posted on marquis.  We bought some country music CDs at Ernie Tubbs Records where Bob Dylan had shopped a few months prior.  I was absolutely mesmerized by the Johnny Cash/Bob Dylan duet of “Girl from the North Country” which was played at the Country Music Hall of Fame, so I had to get a copy.  That song brings me right back to being serenaded at CF camp.  Everything I know about country music I learned from Bob C. and Bob Flanagan, my musical mentors at camp.  I remember back in 1987 how Bob Flanagan sang the “Phantom of the Grand Ol’ Opry” for our talent show and that was the first time I ever heard of the Grand Ol’ Opry.  My counselor Idel dressed up as Minnie Pearl, whom I never heard of either.

Around 6pm, Ana and I drove to Edgehill Studios Café because we wanted to hear “Chicks with Picks,” female acoustic artists.  The café was nearly empty and we stayed for an hour listening to some young musicians trying to make their break:  Larisa Maestro and another young artist (a Tracy Chapman look-alike) whose name escapes me.  They were strong but not too original, but it was refreshing to see non-Caucasian singers in Nashville.  Then we left to have dinner back at the District.  I wanted to learn country dancing at the Wildhorse Saloon, but there was a special concert that night so our plans changed.  Instead, we walked through “The District” again and decided to go clubbing.  First we went to Robert’s Western World to listen to a good ol’ country band, “The Don Kelly Band,” with a male lead.  The stand-up bassist was banging on the strings with fervor and had such an impressive beat.  The music reverberated through our bodies and brought us back to CF Camp.  Nostalgia, love and rhythm go hand and hand.  Seated next to us was a friendly white-haired man who drove from Lake Tahoe, and loved to dance.  He had more energy than I did and swung me a round like my feet didn’t even need a floor.  He made funny faces and laughed outloud.  He was high on life just like we were!  It would take someone like that to get me on the dance floor.  I had a blast with my one Nashville country dancing experience, and so did the half dozen other women he danced with, one after another.  (Too bad for Ana!)  This guy just kept going and going.  That’s high altitude living energy.  Ana and I had burgers and a beer, and then moved on to the club next door, the Second Fiddle.  There was another country band, with a female lead from Georgia, and they were absolutely phenomenal.  We didn’t dance but just grooved to the music for a good hour.  We could’ve stayed forever.  She played one song after another by memory- what talent!  After that band, I was in the mood for my favorite, bluegrass, and went next door to the Bluegrass Inn where another band played.  A woman on the fiddle made me sit at the edge of my seat.  Unfortunately, she and the lead guitarist played with a flat look on their faces and it didn’t inspire enthusiasm.  We went to our last club, Legends Corner, and heard another fabulous group which sang more rock-style country, like Aerosmith’s “Rock This Way”.  We were exhausted and went back to the hotel by 10:30pm.

Yesterday, Friday, we went to historic Franklin, about 20 minutes from Nashville.  When we parked by the post office, we saw men in black and white striped outfits working on the lawn.  These were inmates just out of the movie, “Brother Where Art Thou.”  Ana dared to take their picture!  We walked around the quaint downtown and had a warm conversation with Les, a kind gentleman at the visitor center.  Ana and I then visited the Carlton House, site of the Battle of Franklin, one of Tennessee’s bloodiest Civil War battles.  We learned that nearly 6500 Confederate soldiers and 2500 Union soldiers lost their lives on this small battlefield that was literally covered with bodies in 2 hours in the afternoon of November 30, 1864.  We saw the bronze busts of several of the 15 Generals who were killed that afternoon.  Most of them were 29-37 years old!  I reflected on learning that Allison Krauss is my age, that Meriwhether Lewis died at age 35, Elvis at 42, Dr. Martin Luther King at 38, and that these prominent people reach their prime (and demise) in their mid-thirties!  So much can be done in 3 decades!  Those who’ve died were so young, with so much potential, yet so much accomplished. Life is really about quality, not quantity.  Nowadays, dying before 40 seems so tragic.  Even if CF killed me at 32, I would’ve still lived a full life according to these lifespans.  How grateful I feel to still be alive at 36. 

After Franklin, we then drove to the famous tourist trap the Loveless Motel and Café on Highway 100. We were starving and had a huge southern lunch: fried chicken, caramelized sweet potatoes, fried okra and their famous biscuits with jam.  Ana had grits and greens, and we shared our southern treats.  We also consumed a record number of enzymes.  For dessert we had ‘steeplechase pie’ also known as pecan with chocolate chips.  Some of you know how vocal Ana and I are about food, and we truly enjoyed every bite of this meal.  We ate til we almost burst!  What a treat to taste local flavors, without regard to calories and health…

After the Loveless Café, we quickly drove to the Grand Ol’ Opry east of Nashville. We rushed to make it to the last tour at 3:30.  We learned of the history of this radio show from 1925 until present day. We learned about the change in venues over the years until the show was settled into this huge Disneyland-style entertainment complex back in 1974.  This theater holds 4400 people and the stage includes a piece of flooring from the original Ryman Auditorium.  The chairs were designed like church pews to commemorate its beginnings in a church.  We saw backstage and the dressing rooms.  We learned what it took to become a Grand Ol’ Opry member, and that each member had a PO Box inside the opry.  We learned all sorts of random trivia, such as the fact that Minnie Pearl’s tag on her hat was a freak accident that the crowd loved so she kept it. 

After the tour, we went to the G.O.O. museum and learned about more of the music stars like Roy Acuff and Marty Robbins.  Our brains were on overload and we went to check into our luxurious Radisson hotel across the street.  We heated our leftover crock pot meals and enjoyed them for dinner in our room.  Though exhausted, at 7:30pm we headed back to the Grand Ol’ Opry for our much-anticipated Friday night concert.  We didn’t know a single person on the list, but they were older classics like Jimmy Dickens, Jean Sheppard, the Whites, George Hamilton IV, and other oldies-but-goodies.  The audience consisted of mostly older people on tours who sang along to many of the songs like ‘Abilene’ and ‘Keep on the Sunny Side.’  Jimmy Dickens was hilarious.  He is 87 years old and told jokes about ‘you know you’re 87 when… (your wife says let’s run upstairs and make love and you tell her I can only do one’ or ‘you bend down to pick something up and then ask yourself what else can I do while I’m down here,’ or ‘a pretty girl passes by and your pacemaker goes bezerk’)  His funniest joke was: “I went to the doctor and he checked my ears. He said, ‘Jimmy, you’ve got a suppository in your ear.’  ‘And I said, ‘Oh by golly, now I know where my hearing aids are.’’  He would say stuff like, “I’m gonna sing a song from my most recent album, that came out in 1964.”  Anyway, I am just sharing his funny jokes so you can feel like you were there too!

I personally loved the bluegrass bands like the Del McCoury Band more than these oldies, with the speedy mandolin, banjo and stand-up bass.  The fast pace sound really gets me excited!  I loved the young up and coming country star, Jimmy Wayne from North Carolina.  We’ll see him around, I’m sure.

Overall, I think I am glad I went to the Grand Ol’ Opry for the experience but only about half of the music was extremely fulfilling.  A lot of the older singers were heavy smokers and their voices were way past their prime. I am sorry to be discriminatory about this but I have my grudges against smokers.  I have to admire their courage for being so strong and courageous to be singing in public at their ages.  Good for them!

Anyway, Ana and I were pleased we stayed in Nashville one more night for this experience. We went back to the hotel and crashed with exhaustion.  We knew the next day would be busy- onward to Memphis!

Speaking of which, right now we are almost in Memphis so I better go…

I will sign off for now. Ana says I am a blog hog so she will write about Memphis.

I wish you all the good food, good sites and sounds back home that we are enjoying on the road.

Love to you all,

Isa

5/7/08

Dear friends,

I hope this week has been good for you.

It is day 21 of our road trip and we have reached the halfway point of our adventure.  Today we left Raleigh, North Carolina, at 8am sharp and headed west on the Interstate 40.  After 5400 miles, we’re coming home!  Our vacation officially started yesterday, since we finished our last bookstore signing and don’t have any commitments until May 17.  Now we are truly freewheeling!

Right now Ana and I are driving through the Appalachian Mountains, and have passed the Great Smoky Mountains.  We were drooling and gnawing at our teeth because the National Park was beckoning us!  We have such fond memories of the absolute highlight of our entire lives: June 2006 when we went backpacking along the Appalachian Trail with my dad in the Great Smokies before the US Transplant Games!  So much has happened since then, and it seems like a dream that we are here again.  Someday, I hope I can come back to this area with Andrew and his family from Charlotte.

Despite not stopping nor hiking, the drive through this region is breathtaking.  The hills are green with specks of brown, and the sky is bright blue!  There are jacaranda-style trees with purple flowers in full bloom along the highway.  Parts of the highway are cut into layers of grey, brown and black (coal?) sedimentary rock.  I can’t believe trees grow right out of that rock!

During the drive, Ana and I sang along to the Indigo Girls’ song, “Carolina on My Mind.”  Soon, we passed into Tennessee (our 17^th state) and listened to Bob Flanagan’s version of “Brand New Tennessee Waltz.”  We are heading to Nashville, Tennessee, and eager to tour the Belle Meade Plantation, the Gibson Guitar factory, The Country Music Hall of Fame (although we can count the number of country music stars we know on one hand), and the Grand Ole Opry.  We are great bait for tourist traps!  We are getting ambitious about our plans and aiming towards going down the historic Natchez Trace Parkway, to witness Indian and Civil War historical sites and to be able to say we have entered Alabama and Mississippi.  We’re debating about whether we should stay in Nashville one more night to go to the Grand Ole Opry, but that means one less night in the Ozarks.  Oh, the decisions of vacationers!  We want to reap the benefits of our health, knowing this is a unique opportunity and we never know if we’ll be this close to the South again.

Oh, my god, we just passed the biggest Confederate flag I’ve ever seen, off the highway.

And we just left Eastern time and entered Central time!

Now we just passed a run down car with a rusty bumper.  The driver was an old man with no teeth.

Anyway, Ana and I just spent the last few days in the famous Triangle Region of North Carolina.  We were amazed how wooded the region looks, despite the fact that there were signs saying, “UNC Chapel Hill” or “Duke University” next right.  This is the hub of major CF and transplant research, not to mention medical breakthroughs in all kinds of diseases. 

On Monday morning, Ana and I met our dear friend and fellow author Tiffany Christensen (author of “Sick Girl Speaks”), at her home.  Tiffany is also a two-time lung transplant recipient, and our long lost triplet.  She has so much spunk and determination, wisdom and originality.  She has started an impressive business for herself as an ‘Illness Transition Coach’, giving workshops on coping with illness, advanced care planning, education for health care professionals, etc.  See her fantastic website, www.sickgirlspeaks.com.’  We had never met Tiffany in person, and had only recently learned of her, but when we met, it was like love at first sight.  I believe our CF and transplant journeys have connected our souls long before we knew each other existed.  One of the greatest gifts of transplantation is that we do not have to worry about cross infection anymore (mostly) and therefore can socialize like normal people again.  We planned to stay with Tiffany at her quaint home, which was decorated like a fine home furnishings catalog.  We went out to a nice breakfast and ran some errands in quaint Carrsboro and Chapel Hill.  We chatted about our lives- our love of dogs, our goals, our dogs, our books, and more about our dogs.  It is so educational to compare our treatments, our doctors and lifestyles.  I gain great hope when I meet other transplant recipients who are thriving without fears or limitations that sometimes overwhelm me.

Thanks to Tiffany’s help, we had two book-related events on Monday.  We attended a Cystic Fibrosis Foundation golf tournament in the afternoon.  My husband Andrew flew in from a meeting in Denver to join us at this event.  It was great to see him after so long.

We met the brand new CFF R