I was listening to NPR yesterday where they were talking about the anniversary of the Hiroshima bombing. That's when I realized that it will be a year ago tomorrow that I had my second transplant. How could this have almost slipped my mind?
Well, I have been busy. I've been traveling and planning the rest of the month which will be filled with goodbyes, hellos and new experiences. I've been feeling bullet-proof, always nice. These are excuses, though, because if I allow myself to go back one year, the memories haunt me.
The transplant was supposed to be the 7th but there was a flight delay (isn't there always?). Marty was with me, and we'd been watching the Yankees pummel the Red Sox. At least we had a little distraction. Finally the cells arrived and after being pre-medicated, they dripped into my port and traveled through my blood. I didn't feel a thing, and I promptly went to sleep.
I have no specific plans to celebrate. Marty is home and a friend is visiting so we'll make a nice dinner and toast my donor. Thanks, mister, whoever and wherever you are.