CARRBORO - Arlene Furman headed down Weaver Street with a sure stride. With her cane outstretched and the sun warming her face, she gracefully made her way down the sidewalk. Her husband, Jack Nestor, walked by her side. Blind for nearly eight years, she has found a rhythm to her walk and her life. But it has been a journey to get to this place. In 1999, the couple were in a groove. They ran a successful children's audiomagazine called Shoofly. They had a beautiful son and daughter and another baby boy on the way.

Then, two weeks before Furman's April due date, she started feeling sick. At first, they wrote off her cough as a cold. Days later, when her symptoms worsened, it was too late. Furman went from slurring her words at home to lying comatose in a hospital bed.

Just like that, life changed from the wonderfully routine to the unimaginable.

"The day just exploded," Nestor says.

It was a still-mysterious trial that tested their strength -- as individuals and as a couple. They lost Shoofly, and they lost the world they had known.

But today, Furman and Nestor have rebuilt their lives, reclaiming their business and with that, an important part of themselves.

"We knew we'd be back," she says.

Still, back in the midst of their ordeal, it was hard to think about the future. A doctor had told Furman she probably just had the flu. As her coughs became more violent and her breathing more labored, she knew it was much more.

"I felt like someone was standing on my chest," she says.

Furman had another doctor's appointment the next morning so she climbed into bed to rest. That's where Nestor found her when he came home from a Shoofly recording session. Things declined quickly. After a shower, Arlene started talking incoherently. Nestor called 911. The ER team arrived and took her blood pressure. Nestor saw shock in their eyes.

"That was the last time I saw her conscious," he says.

An ambulance rushed Furman to the hospital.

A team of doctors worked on Furman. Her kidneys failed. Her liver was worsening. She had dangerously low blood pressure. Her lungs stopped working and she had to be placed on a respirator. She was bleeding into herself.

"It was just incredibly horrible," Nestor says. "It's one of those moments when you're standing outside yourself watching things unfold."

Furman wasn't expected to live. The battery of health assaults she faced led to adult respiratory distress. Nestor spoke to grief counselors and asked what to tell their kids, 3-year-old Hayley and 6-year-old Harry.

He got a tough answer: The truth. Nestor would have to tell his children their baby brother had died and their mother might too.

When he broke the news, Hayley fell apart.

"She punched me in the face," he says. "Hayley was inconsolable."

In a medically induced coma, Furman seemed to hover between life and death. Ventilators did her breathing. She had one working organ -- her heart.

The damage done

After a big scare, Furman began to stabilize. It was time to bring her out of the coma.

Doctors had already told Nestor the risks: She could be paralyzed, have brain damage. But when they tested her nerves for signs of problems, things looked good.

"It seemed like we were going to get through this," Nestor says.

The morning Furman woke up, her pupils were dilated. She felt disoriented and hungry. Unable to talk or hardly move, Furman longed for pizza and her glasses. She had entered the hospital in March. It was May.

"I thought I had been in the hospital three days," she says.

After being awake awhile, the room was still dark. An ophthalmologist confirmed that she was blind.

"You think about things you won't be able to do," she says. "I thought about not being able to read or see a movie again." She had already lost her son. Now, her sight was gone too.

"It was hard when I woke up," Furman says. "I felt like a truck had run over me, then backed up and run over me again."

Her body atrophied from being in bed so long. She couldn't sit up or even raise an arm. She looked wan, weak. Harry cuddled with her. Hayley didn't want to come near.

At home, she had to go through physical therapy. They had the baby's funeral.

"It was just one kick after another," says Shanna Bryant, a family friend.

Tremors shook Furman's body. Tufts of her long, dark blond hair fell out. Harry told her, "You don't look like my mommy anymore."

Hayley clutched her tight.

From the beginning, people in their Orange County neighborhood rallied around them. They supplied months of meals. A teacher collected money and took Harry clothes shopping.

Finding a new way

But even with the help, it was hard to rebound. They were in a different place. From the day Furman entered the hospital, Nestor put Shoofly on the back burner so he could focus on being there for her and the children. With the challenges of her recovery, they ended the business they loved for good.

It was a painful decision. Years earlier, Furman and Nestor were inspired on a car trip to create Shoofly. As they listened to the radio, a poet came on who transported Harry and them to other worlds.

In 1994, they debuted their audiomagazine of innovative songs, stories and poems for children ages 3 to 7. Shoofly, which featured the work of authors nationwide and the voices of local actors and performers, won critical acclaim. They had a thousand subscribers and many who would buy individual issues. Now, it would be gone, just like so many things from their life.

Their marriage had always been filled with laughs and sharing. Suddenly, tension surrounded them.

"It got the point where we couldn't talk anymore. There was so much anger and frustration," Furman says.

She was mad at losing so much and envious of Nestor's freedom. Nestor felt underappreciated.

They knew they had to make a change. They loved their neighborhood but they needed to find a place more adapted to Furman's new needs.

"We knew we could make a big or little change," he says. "We could move to Carrboro or Colorado. Everything was wide open. We had to figure out what was best."

They visited big cities like Philadelphia, but found what they needed close to home in Carrboro.

"We realized there would always be losses. But we could stop thinking of them as losses and think of them as changes," Furman says.

Shoofly returns

Once they settled into their new home, Furman found a fresh sense of freedom. She was close to the market, could walk around on her own. She started thinking more about Shoofly.

"It was always in the back of my mind," Furman says. "When we suspended operation, we got so many letters from people who were so supportive and loving."

She tucked them in a large envelope. "It just kind of sat there, a symbol. As if to say, 'Yes, one day,' " she says.

Over the years, they would get calls from people who wondered if they could still get issues. Or wanted to know when they were coming back.

In October 2005, they decided it was time. They started by creating a Web site, www.shooflyaudio.com. They learned how to transfer their cassettes to CDs. Instead of trying to re-create their subscription-base from scratch, they offered a new format where people could purchase individual issues.

"I'm thrilled that Arlene and Jack are back doing what they're meant to do," says Sarah Froeber, a children's book author who has directed and performed on many of their issues. "It was a loss for children, teachers and parents everywhere when they closed down. Now, a whole new group of children will experience the delights of this work."

Furman is completely blind in her left eye and has about 5 percent vision in her right eye. "It's dark like dusk," she says, "I see through something like snow on a TV. It's like bad reception with flecks of black and white flickering."

So now, some things like proofing the Web site takes longer. But Furman also has a new gift -- a keener appreciation for sounds.

"I feel even more connected to what we do," she says. "I hear traffic sounds and think about I like the way that sounds or hear someone's voice and say that would really work."

By next year, Nestor and Furman hope to be releasing new work. They're shooting for two issues a year.

On a recent day, they left their office and walked down the street toward home. Side by side, they matched each other's stride.

They were back in step, just right.

Visit our website at www.shooflyaudio.com