Day 86, Monday, April 22nd, 2013

Nothing of particular medical importance happened over the course of the weekend. I ran out of the adhesive covers that I stick over my Hickman line for the shower and I ordered more; I took 21 pills. I did have a gluten experience on Saturday, which was its usual brand of fun, but that is what I get for trying to eat at a German pub. From what I can tell of German cuisine, it is approximately one third cabbage, one third meat, and one third wheat, not omitting, of course, the ubiquity of beer as an accompaniment (sadly, I cannot have beer). I am fairly certain that the wheat was in the curry salt that was on the French fries (all very German, of course). That having been ingested, I spent Saturday afternoon and evening in a state of derp, a mental state wherein cognitive capacity is drastically reduced. 

On Sunday, Mom, along with Jackie, one of the other caregivers she's met here, went to the Roosengaard Tulip farm and the attached Tulip Garden. I elected to stay home, which turned out to be wise, since it took over an hour to get there, with traffic (I'm supposed to remain within fifteen minutes' drive of the hospital, unless otherwise directed by my team, for the purpose of medical testing). Mom was gone for about five hours, and I used most of that time to blow stuff up over the internet with some friends (video games, we played video games). She returned with about as many photographs of flowers as you might expect. I don't want to say hundreds, because I haven't actually counted them, but there were lots. 

Sunday evening, we went to a restaurant called McCormick & Schmick's, which is fun to say, with Jackie and her husband Stacy. Stacy is here getting stem-celled at, much like myself. For all that I was the youngest at the table by thirty years, it was a lovely evening, and I didn't so much sleep afterwards, as enter a food coma. 

There's not a lot going on right now in any official capacity. Dad arrives tomorrow, and on Wednesday we both report to different allo teams. I am on the Red team, and if memory serves (which it really hasn't been, lately) Dad's on the Blue team (don't hold me to that). He'll be here until at least mid-May, for the purposes of recovery after his donation for the second transplant. 

One more week of waiting, and then, the big gun gets fired. I'll admit to being slightly apprehensive about this one, because this is where all of the real risk for serious side effects resides. But, there's no point in freaking myself out about the things that could go wrong, when this is happening regardless. I've made my decision and this is my best chance at resolution, so why worry about the what ifs?

Why is Six afraid of Seven? Because Seven have MANY FRIEND POLITBURO.