The Time Is Now

I have never been a fan of a countdown clock, not that I’ve really ever had one but regardless I am not a fan. It hangs over your head like a looming deadline. And let’s face it, no one likes deadlines, even if you do work better under pressure like I do. I may not like the countdown clock because in my mind it always seems to countdown to something drastic. I remember when I was a kid one of my favorite movies was the American Rabbit (which I passed on to my goddaughter for the sake of nostalgia) and I think it had a countdown clock or at least I remember it that way when the Vulture was about to take over. (I may need to check on that.) But in movies the countdown clock is always a bad thing, it tends to be the moment when everyone holds their breath to brace themselves for the horror or when the bomb squad gets called in to save the day. I had the date April 12th circled on the calendar and everyday that it came closer the worse it seemed, like the countdown clock. I even asked Josh if we could make a break for it a couple of times and he told me it wasn’t worth the fallout…ughhh.

That meant I had to have my last day at school, which was tough. As a teacher, I have always believed that the kids that walk through your door are “your kids” and leaving them with anyone other than me was difficult. Plus I had to pack up my room completely in anticipation for adding the seventh grade to our school next year. So the walls were bare and the kids were somber, but they were also thoughtful and kind. My seniors planned a birthday/going away party and bought me a beautiful journal and wrote messages in it. I was surprised I managed to hold it together. I almost made it the whole day until one of my sophomore asked me why bad things happen to good people and I couldn’t really provide him with a good answer other than that life isn’t always fair. I also made sure to tell him that despite that fact, I wouldn’t change mine for anything. I have an incredible life, I just also have refractory Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I hope if I have taught them anything about life it is to persevere with a positive attitude regardless of the circumstances you may be faced with. Since I left on Friday, I have received little notes and photos from them here and there which mean a lot me.

I didn’t want to give myself too much time between the transplant and stopping work, because I think living in my headspace for too long wouldn’t have been beneficial. So I had the weekend and two days, much of which I spent dining out with family and friends and packing. Packing for a BMT (Bone Marrow/Stem Cell Transplant) is hard. All clothes, blankets, etc. need to be freshly laundered and placed in plastic bags. I of course had to do mine by outfit fully equipped with pants, a tank top, shirt, and matching headscarf because when you look good you feel better. Either that or I believe myself to be Coco Chanel. I also needed to pack for 30 days in isolation, that means I needed books, activities, coloring, technology, etc. It all amounted to seven bags stuffed full and a box. Josh was hoping for a bell hop at the hospital, but he was disappointed.

Once the packing was done, I also needed to do something about my hair. I had been informed that it would fall out from the treatment. There is nothing worse than losing your hair in pieces and waking up with it in your mouth. I do that now with golden retriever fur….yuck! So I decided to take matters into my own hands and shave it first. I’m not super emotional about my hair, after all Steph shaved it into a multicolored mohawk the first time. So this time Josh did it and we went with funny. Things I’ve learned about this process, if you can’t laugh you’ll cry.  So we went with funny. I think I pull off a mustache quite well, just not as good as Josh!

I was ready to go after that I guess, kind of, sort of. I am fortunate to have so many people in my life that make it hard to leave. For example, my soon to be sister in law arranged daily fun activity bags to be opened once I have my transplant. Similarly Steph, knowing how much I love cards and stationary, arranged Kards for Krista at school and handed me a box of hand written notes for inspiration and encouragement. There are so many people who make up my amazing support system and luckily I was able to see most of them before I left. The day before I left I managed to sneak in a Home Depot run with my dad, lunch with my mom, ball with Jax, talk time with Nancy (my second mom) and Steph and Bryan, and couch time with Josh. I knew I couldn’t run because they were all the reasons why I was doing this. I am young and healthy enough to endure the process and if I waited that may not be the case. So the Time is Now and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

 

Countdown to Major Tom

So I have never really been a David Bowie fan, although that may be because I really don’t know much that he has done other than the movie Labyrinth and even than my recollection is fuzzy. This should be evident considering I genuinely believed that the name of the song or at the very least the lyrics contained the phrase Countdown to Major Tom. Although he was beloved by many as shown by the out pouring of emotion from his fans after his recent passing. However, the song Space Oddity came to mind, not because this post has anything to do with the moon landing that occurred in 1969 or A Space Odyssey, the movie that came out in 1968. Nor does it have to do with drugs, which some speculate the song has some connection to or at least not those drugs. The title or at least what I initially thought was the title seemed fitting for this post because I am counting down to Major Tom or my anonymous 9/10 donor match who I have now assigned this awesome alias.

I have exactly forty three days until the week of April 9th, which is my tentative week of check in for my allogenic stem cell transplant. Now I have to tell you, I envision something from outer space when I think about the actual medical procedure that is a transplant. I’m pretty certain I won’t attempt to wear tin foil on my head to ward off mind control as these new alien cells embark upon my body, through what is pretty much a blood transfusion. After that, what they in the medical profession call Day 0, I have no idea what to expect which in  my world is terrifying. I am a planner. I plan for everything, even things I can’t really plan for. My various Pintrest boards (public and private) can attest that as can my Erin Condren planner obsession. At this point I have a various personal planners, a teacher planner, and now a transplant planner. I have been creating lists of doctors and medications, appointments, and people to contact, and paper work to file, and to do lists to accomplish all of those things. This makes me sound like an obsessive compulsive Type A personality and that might not be untrue. What may be more true is my love of stationary, planners, and paper. And yes I know that is insane, but there are others like me who get oddly excited when Erin Condren comes out with a seasonal box or your new address labels have finally arrived in the mail. So back to my original point before my planner love took me off on a tangent, I have a need to plan. I have forty three days to plan and then the abyss for at least the incubation period while Major Tom’s cells take hold.

I never anticipated how much planning could really be involved. I had to get all of my legal affairs in order. And I do want to say that there is nothing worse than having to talk to your parents and your boyfriend about your last wishes at thirty four or having to ask your best friend to be your Healthcare proxy because you know the previous mentioned parties couldn’t possibly respect your wishes (not that it will be any easier for her). I have to figure out the logistics of how to leave my teaching career for 365 days (worst case scenario) after thirteen years and not worry about my current classes, my future classes, money, etc. I have this need to plan all of it, make videos for the days I’ll miss before my AP  kids have to take their exam, write their letters for the day of, all the little things that I want to make sure they don’t miss out on. It’s not just school. I want to see as many people, sneak in as many road trips, and spend time with the people who have made my life so beautiful and there are only so many weekends in forty three days (because after that, I can only see them as ninja wearing hospital masked faces for a very long time). It’s a lot to take in. All while prepping my house for transplant, redoing our mildew ridden bathroom and cleaning out… well everything. And I can’t forget packing for my 100 day stay in Boston while the transplant process takes place. Did I mention continuing another cycle of chemo, dealing with a slew of other medical related appointments and working and my actual everyday life. It’s a little overwhelming (and the transplant piece is in itself is the same and terrifying and exciting). I may need a planner for my planner as I countdown to Major Tom.