On Friday afternoon, I finally speak with someone at Dana-Farber who had indicated in a phone message the day before that she had new information about my upcoming transplant. Readers, I admit I had been hanging onto that cliff with all my will.
I am to be admitted Friday, July 31 to have a catheter surgically implanted in my chest and to begin preparation for my second transplant, which better be the coup de gras. How much can a woman take?
After the brief phone call, a wave of elation washed over me and I rushed out to tell my husband the news. We hugged and he became misty-eyed, then went back to working on his bike. Suddenly, the enormity of it struck me. An anonymous donor was willing to save my life. I wept buckets. And then I called the Financial Coordinator at Dana-Farber to make sure my health insurance ducks were all in a row.
I have two weeks to live large, and I plan to render each day down to its essence. Time will neither fly nor creep because I'm going to pay attention to the here and now. I've stopped wearing a watch.
Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life. ~William Faulkner