Miracle on Beaver Lake

Remember all my kvetching about the inability to taste salt, the issues I was was having with my beloved coffee, and my overall fatigue? Well, here's an update and a visual aid.

Marty and I drove up to New Hampshire Sunday morning to visit friends from our Costa Rica Days. Patty and Jeff have a lovely cottage on Beaver Lake in Derry. That we were even making this trip was a minor miracle. To find a window between chemo recovery and transplant that would coincidently fit into their summer schedule seemed unlikely even a week ago. But by a serendipitous turn of events, there I was on an unexpected overnight trip.

Honestly, I was hesitant about the idea from its inception. I'm not well, my counts won't be high enough, I just want to be at home, I still have my chemo catheter hanging out of my arm, the germs germs germs. I had to willfully move several of those neurotic roadblocks just to consider such a trip. It didn't hurt that Friday my catheter came out and I was free from that annoying reminder of my health status.

Sunday was a beautiful day weather-wise, and it was great to be visiting our friends. But still I felt that my battery was low and not really charging, and that I was making an effort to basically just sit on the deck and smile. Monday morning, after not enough sleep, I slowly realized the coffee tasted like, well, coffee. Not completely, but going in the right direction. A couple of hours later, the four of us went for a walk around the lake, which I was questioning whether or not I could do since it was much longer than any walk I'd taken post-chemo. Suddenly, I found myself back at Patty and Jeff's house barely able to believe I'd walked 2+ miles. But wait, there's more.

Jeff and I parked ourselves on the deck with beer (non-alcoholic for me) and a bowl of peanuts while Marty fished and Patty ran a few errands. After we'd consumed all the peanuts, Jeff turned to me and asked if they tasted good to me since nuts for most of us need salt to taste like anything. Briefly confused, I put my finger into the bottom of the bowl to pick up nut remnants and grains of salt. When I licked my finger, the revelation hit me, and I stood up and shouted "I can taste salt."

We'd already been discussing the restorative powers the "lake" seemed to be having on me that day, but this seemed like true miracle material.

Now, you might be thinking, this woman is a self-absorbed lunatic. You may not even have read this far. So be it. But there was a miracle on Beaver Lake, and I have the picture to prove it.



That's me with the can of peanuts that woke up my taste buds from a long nap, about 20 feet from lake's edge. The cars are lining up and the believers are streaming out with little bottles to collect the waters. There's talk of having a statue made of me to place in front of the cottage for people to stroke and find illumination. My friend Patty is pondering financial angles. I'm just beyond thrilled and a true believer. I don't feel this way often.