Day Minus Six

Okay, so far? The stem cell transplant process involves a lot of sitting around, frequently interrupted by sundry wonderful people: nurses, nutritionists, housekeeping staff, physical therapists, doctors, and doctors-in-training. More than once today, I’ve said, “That person was, like, 12.” (I am, like, solidly 40-something, and I’m astounded by how young medical professionals are these days.)

Anyway, everyone truly has been terrific—even the occasionally foul-mouthed and comically odd nurse with “interesting” political opinions and the not-quite-endearing habit of ending nearly every sentence with, “Okay, hon” or “All right, sweetie,” or “I got you, baby.” She gifted my mother with a pair of these guys because, she swears, they’re terrific for use in needlework.

ANYWAY. Dad’s doing fantastically, so far. He had a super-mild, super-short reaction to his first round of the pre-transplant chemo regimen last night, and this morning he got “filled up” with two units of blood.

He got a shower, did 16 laps around the floor (one mile), and tried out the cafeteria’s cheesecake. (“It was okay.“) He’s experiencing zero icky side effects so far, and if he does well with tonight’s round of chemo, he’s going to celebrate with a daring meal tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed, y’all.

Yesterday, it occurred to me that Day Zero—the day Dad receives his donor’s cells—is May 4th. As in, May the Fourth. As in, “May the forth [force] be with you.” That feels significant in all kinds of ways, and I’m trying to figure out how to throw a Star Wars-themed party that day. I suppose I should see how Dad’s feeling before I drag a Wookie in here.

Also, does anyone have any connections to Harrison Ford, because it would be pretty great for that guy to show up here next Thursday. Great for me, I mean. I’m not sure Dad would care.