 ©1999-1999 ICFTP What're you, kidding? |
Did I just not happen to mention that tomorrow is transplant day? It's almost here. I reckon sometime around 1:00pm tomorrow, I'll be watching my brother's stem cells flow into my heart through my Hickman catheters, wondering if they're gonna take root in my soil.
The family came up tonight for the thing. That's Donor Brother Neal on the left, sitting on poor Camille, and Joel hanging on the arm of the chair. Neal's friend Nikki, lady triathelete, is over there on the bed. Mom managed to escape this photograph, but she's gonna be staying with me tonight, giving Tanya a chance to sleep in her own bed.
Am I ready? Uh... next question please. Of course I am. I think. I better be. At this point, if I don't get a tranplant, I'm a gone goose. That's what the chemo was for... killing me softly with its song. So, of COURSE I'm ready... sure I am... come on, get it OVER with... please?
Watch me now, here I go.
3 June 1999: Day Minus One
Would ya'll believe that I've been here two weeks, and have not left this room? I'm allowed to, it's not like I'm a prisoner. I can go out and move around the BMT Unit, just gotta wear a mask and tote that damn IV stand around.
But... there's sick people out there.
And you guys are all in here.
Since I honestly did not remember what it looked like out there (I really didn't! My first week here is kind of a serious haze), I peeked out the door with the digital camera.
All clear to the left...
... and not much going on to the right, either. Oh well, think I'll get back in front of my computer, kick some Rage Against The Machine and update this page.
Besides, how would Mr. Hitchcock feel if I left him alone?