2nd round

Tomorrow, August 4, 2017, I will return to Mass General Hospital for the second stem cell transplant. I am not ready; I want more time to rest and eat good (nonhospital) food to be “normal.” I don’t want to be inside for 2+ weeks, confined to a hospital floor, gazing longingly out of the windows, trying to imagine what the day feels like from a room that is kept at a constant temperature. In the back of my mind is the repetitive voice of reason explaining how this is needed and how “it’ll be over soon!” etc.

My beard is starting to grow again; it is darker and thicker in some areas and others, just thin indications of hair, translucent almost. Once more, I am surprised at how fast cellular regeneration occurs within the body and, as before, how willing it (the body) is to keep going and growing despite the near-constant bombardment of chemicals. I feel bad that, from tomorrow onward, my body will be fed these toxic chemicals and again will shed the newly grown hairs as the (chemo) agents destroy cells — both good and bad — all cells.

Again, the voice tells me it is for the best, this is about healing, “you’ll be well soon,”… etc.

When I was just a small child, I played in the woods near our house. For some reason, I consumed some berries growing wildly in the forest. As innocent as a child is, I just thought they were harmless and would taste yummy. When my mother heard it, she immediately called the doctor, who had the pharmacist deliver (yes, they delivered!) ipecac syrup. This is used to induce vomiting and administered if something potentially poisonous is ingested. Since my mother didn’t know what type of berries I had feasted upon, she assumed the worst. Naturally, she felt horrible when I vomited up what I could barely remember as a colorful, Pollock-like splatter of colorful berries (amongst other things recently consumed). I now feel the way my mother must have when she was trying to explain to me why I would feel poorly – and that it was for my safety – and that she was sorry – and that she loved me.

At night, or when first waking, I scan my body mentally from head to toe and envision myself embracing my own body as I explain why this must be endured – and that I’m sorry – and that I love it.