On August 8th, 2009, I received my second stem cell transplant. In theory, I'm four years old. I only whine a little.
The Plog was born in August 2007 when I had my first transplant. I thought I'd include some excerpts here. I want to credit Ann Gregory with leading me through this journey. She's my Virgil. That makes me Dante who read what was posted outside the gates of Hell: "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here." All of us made it out alive.
September 3, 2007. The "rabbit" drug," used to wipe out my immune system was a bad experience. "Tomorrow the silly wabbit weturns (calling Elmer Fudd!), so who knows what or if I'll write. Do bunnies write?"
September 26, 2007. I was discharged on Monday. Here's how I did it. "Beginning last
Friday, I started making suggestions to hospital staff that I thought
Monday would be an acceptable day to release me. My ulterior motive was
that I wanted to be home to see the East Greenwich Cross Country team
(and my darling sons) make history by defeating Hendricken High School, a
team that hasn't lost a meet since 1978." Yes, I did it, and EG won.
December 14, 2007. "Americans read for fun on average 7 minutes per day. We spend hours, at times slumped and drooling, in front of the tube." It's probably down to 4-5 minutes a day.
December 8, 2008. "Normally, I'd politely shrug off a Monday night invitation to sit at a
bar drinking beer and eating wings, but I decided to push the envelope. If I hadn't gone, I would have missed the disco version of Gordon Lightfoot's "If You Could Read My Mind." Priceless. It's good to be back."
January 13, 2009.
"Last night I did something I haven't done in 20 months (yes, I count
them!). I stood in a classroom at the library and taught an English
class to a group of adults whose native languages are not English. The
topic for the month of January is health, so I decided to focus on
nutrition and diet. I had so much fun, I floated out of the classroom at
April 26, 2009."I'll just give it to you straight. I've relapsed and will have to start
all over again. I enter the hospital later this week to get the poison,
which will hang from little bags strung from a pole I'll take with me
everywhere I go. Not that I'll go far."
April 29, 2009. "Tomorrow I get a menu so I can avoid the tyranny of the meat wad sauced over in mud."
May 2, 2009. "I
dreamed that I sneak out of the my room and manage to drive myself home.
But I've forgotten my clothes and I feel guilty about letting down my
doctor. My bold escape feels childish, and I realize it's no escape at
all. Leukemia sounds an all-points bulletin, and I am swiftly rounded up
and returned to my cell."
May 14, 2009. "I'm not even going to try to mine this little episode for a hint of
humor or a silver lining. It was bad; I got through it; this disease is