Grateful for the Pillbox

This is a weird time in our lives.  As I refilled Annika’s pillbox yesterday, I had this strange realization that this will be the last time we fill it for a while.  She is being readmitted to Primary Children’s on Monday afternoon, so the hospital will take it from there.  The next time we use our rainbow pillbox, it will be filled with transplant meds instead.

Ever since Annika had her cardiac arrest, the weekly ritual of refilling her meds has been a beautiful experience for me.  That first time I filled it, I remember feeling SO GRATEFUL for the past seven days we’d had together.  My eyes filled with tears as I pondered the gift of extra time with my daughter.  I acknowledged that this gift came only through grace of God.  Since then, instead of an unwanted chore, refilling the meds has become a joyful reflection on the beauty of life.

I still feel gratitude for the gift of time. When you think about it, this is one of the better scenarios if transplant had to happen.  We’ve had nearly two full years of relatively carefree health since Annika’s initial cardiac arrest.  It’s crazy how much we have squeezed in over these couple of years!  Our Make-a-Wish trip to Hawaii, waterskiing and fishing with cousins on Lake George, playing in the waves on Long Island, walking the Highline in Manhattan, Wheeler family reunions in Quebec and Torrey, a Wells family Christmas surprise in Omaha, Washington DC with the Vedeckis family, horse camp at Trefoil ranch, Hummel Day camp in Omaha, backpacking Ruth Lake, Memorial Day camping at Mesa Verde, kayaking with manatees and visiting Grandpa Wells in Florida, Disneyworld, Grandma Hansen’s 99^th birthday celebration in Rupert, hiking Goblin Valley, a Thanksgiving road trip to San Antonio, Arches, the St. Louis arch, a total solar eclipse in Missouri, Zion, Yosemite, Little Wild Horse canyon, building a quinzhee, skiing and so much more.

These past two years have been lived with abundance.  I feel grateful for every moment.

Instead of a slow decline and the anxiety of waiting for a heart from home, we will be able to move forward pretty swiftly.  Once she is admitted to the hospital, it is unlikely that Annika will wait very long: days to weeks, not months to years.  The next year of healing will certainly have its challenges, but beyond that horizon is an abundance of hope.  Running, hiking, skiing, backpacking, rappelling, even travel. Annika want to go to the Amazon rainforest.  As for me, I’m excited to travel as an entire family to Spain to see the August 2026 solar eclipse and Brooklyn’s mission.  Two months ago, I doubted the feasibility, but now it seems like it just might work.

Here’s to more memories and an abundance of pillboxes in our future.