Tucked away on a dead-end street in Warwick, Rhode Island, within sound and scent of the sea, is a brown Cape style house, the home of Scott and Hillary Carlson, and their red setter, Diego.

As the doorbell rings, Diego, self-appointed official greeter, bounds to the glass storm door, closely followed by a smiling Hillary. Diego sniffs and wags and grins, making sure that the visitors are no threat to his household. Hillary calls, "Scott, we have guests."

Emerging from his den, Scott greets us warmly, using his left hand. He looks much younger than his 37 years.  We move into the living room, where Scott lies back in a well-padded recliner. A handmade guitar and a tall, narrow cabinet full of guitar-greats memorabilia testify to his passion for music. On walls and furniture, photos of happy times shared with Hillary and with friends and family, offer glimpses into his life. Many of the pictures reflect the enthusiasm he and Hillary share for athletics. They met in August 1997, when Hillary was life guarding a triathlon in which Scott was competing. It was to be his last. He had detected weakness in his right arm a few months before. On Febru­ary 23, 1999, they eloped.

Hillary's love for her husband and her pride in all he continues to achieve are palpable. In the months before their marriage, when they were going to the doctor every week for a new test, they had a long time to think about what it all meant.