We are heading to the day. The day I consider the most important. It was the day when there was concrete proof the transplant had worked. There were balloons and there were cheers and there were orange slices on the day of the actual transplant, but I wanted to know that the cells had taken hold. I wanted to know it was working.
Mary-Elizabeth is 9 years out. She has more than 3285 days from the times of such despair. She has finished college. She has become a fully employed human being. She has faced so many many struggles with Post-Transplant B.S. She has grown into an amazingly funny, smart, thoughtful human being. The transplant really was a miracle. I enjoy every day that she is with us. Every day that she calls to complain that she looks bad in a swimsuit. Every day that she shares her chocolate chip cookies. Every day that she reaches out to check-in and just tells me she loves me. Every day that she is on this side of the world of reality, it is a better world.
I keep ending this blog. I don't add to it much anymore. I guess I should say that I have over a 150 unpublished posts. I sometimes question whether or not it is time to make a bold step out of this world of reflection and maybe focus on something else. I am coming to realize that even if I try, I won't/can not make a grand exit. It's not a choice to stay in Cancer World, even if on the edges.
It just hangs there. Not like the big flat overwhelming clouds currently gently dropping some Valentine shaped snow flakes, but the kind that you catch out of the corner of your eye. The little bit of fluff on the horizon that doesn't seem to be going anywhere\.
Nine Years.
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