200 Days

Post Matched Unrelated Donor Transplant

Seven months, still alive. My traveling companions, those with the same disease and treatment, have all died. And I stand on this barren plateau and wonder about mysteries that have not words. It reminds me of the plateaus of Mount Katadan in Northern Maine. Now I'm traversing the Knifes Edge ridge of that same mountain. Boulders only feet wide with hundred foot drops on either side. I feel good, strong. Not dancing on the rocks yet, but looking ahead, not down.

Actually I'm sitting at my computer, in Little Rock Arkansas, in my antiseptic townhouse bubble. All in all, I'm doing remarkably well. No complications, still no immune system and lots of drugs to fight off any innocent virus, fungus, or bacteria. Five more months of living dangerously and I should have my new immune system up to speed. Although that one year mark seems to have a tollgate, only one person has made it through.

I know that I would make the same choices if done over again. Something in my nature. I feel that I've gotten more comfortable with death while passing this way, and more comfortable with life as I continue the journey.

God sent me an angel, and her name is Beatrice. What more can I say. She makes sure that I play by all the rules, even when I grumble and growl. She's going to visit family in Switzerland for a few weeks. My family will be coming to visit me while she's away.

That's about it from the battle zone. The spaceship hasn't come to pick me up yet.

Hope all is well in your life.

Ty