Hilva

This is the section about my wife, Hilva.

This is more than likely the only time that I will mention her by name in my writings, because that is the way she wants it, and I respect the hell out of that.  At the same time, writing about my experiences without mentioning her would be like baking a lasagna without using the kitchen:  it can’t be done.  She kept believing when I stopped; she kept pushing when I quit.  She kept that last little spark of hope inside of me from going out.  She is the one who signed most of the medical forms and releases, so her name is on all of the bills.  She is the one who had to clean up after me when I could not clean up after myself; she washed and cooked for me when I could not do so. Perhaps most important, she convinced me that it it okay to ask for help if help is needed, that you can’t do it all alone, and that you won’t get help if you don't ask for it.   I could never live long enough to repay these debts; all I can do is give my eternal thanks, and be the best husband I can be for the remainder of our time together.