We got the news yesterday that the blast cells are back.

I’ve lost track of the number of treatments.
I’ve lost track of the number of times they’ve said, “this will cure it”.
I’ve lost track of the number of transfusions.
I’ve lost track of the number of hospital visits.
I’ve lost track of the number of doctors, nurses, and visitors.
I’ve lost track of the number of house visits, meal deliveries, and fist bump greeting because of the danger of hugs.
I’ve lost track of the number of exaltations that treatment was working.
I’ve lost track of the number of times I didn’t call to check in.
I’ve lost track of the number of tears, hugs, and sad smiles.
I’ve lost track of the sound of her voice, the warmth of her touch, the resilience of the woman I’ve grown to love.