19th update

Hello everyone,
I have decided to write you an update of events that have occurred since my last update and last trip to Tampa. But first I would like to thank all of you for your great support though all of this. The letters, thoughts, kind gestures and words are really indescribable. Thank you.
So the last hours before coming to the Moffitt were crazy, fumbled and nostalgic. We were busy closing the chapter of our old life while simultaneously peering at hints of the new life to come. All of the help from our close friends cannot go unrecognized. We have temporarily moved ½ of our life up to Melisa’s garage with Dylan’s help. While we were doing this Louie, Ken, Sherri and Dana were working their fingers to the bones to get our old house in order, packed away and clean enough to be presentable. There was nothing in the house to eat so we were all fueled by the best baked Ziti and chocolate cake I have ever put in my mouth courtesy of Regina. Ken came down one extra day to put the final touches in the storage unit and help with cleaning and suddenly there was nothing more to do.
We went to Tampa the following morning at 8am. They told me that they were going to give me a twilight drug where I will be asleep but awake enough to know what was happening. Though it was fuzzy I do remember most of the surgery. They inserted the tube in my chest so that there are 3 lines sticking out for various procedures such as chemo therapy, administration of meds and blood transfusions. This time the doctors seemed more like they needed a morning coffee or a refreshing latté enema because there was no music and no joking around. This whole process turned out to be incredibly uneventful. I was sore and bruised for a day or so after but nothing too bad.
They told us to go back to Orlando and wait for Tampa to call the next day when a room would be ready. Tampa is about 2 hours from Orlando so we made the trek back to Orlando to wait at Melisa’s house. There is no doubt that there was stirring and excitement in the air. Over the past few short days we had packed our entire lives in a storage unit for a 4 month long journey in Tampa with a completely strange and unknown outcome. No one could predict what was or wasn’t going to happen. SO of course emotions at Melisa’s house were high. But I finally got the call to start heading toward Tampa. We did our final farewells and we were off.
On the way to Moffitt, Melisa treated us to a fantastic last restaurant meal. I won’t be eating out for a long while. When we finally got to Moffitt, lugging suitcases and bags in tow and we got to the main building we were informed that the bed was not ready. I asked how long it would be and they said at least 2 to 3 hours…. Wow, not a great start. But we made the best of it by finding an Apple Bees to enjoy my last beer with my old immune system. It went down nicely and before I knew it Melisa, Tracy and I were laughing and having a great time, almost as if we weren’t there to drop me off for a bone marrow transplant. But alas, I got the phone call on my cell. The bed is ready and we are ready for you now.
After all of the proper paper work was filled out we were escorted to the elevators and up to the 4th floor, wound around a corridor and to the main nurse’s station. The room is painted a dull blue green. The white neon lights were blinking above us, half burning out and there is an overall sense of drab shame to the entire floor. I was genuinely surprised. The room seems to have equipment that would have been very handy in the early 90’s. Unfortunately for us patients, I don’t think things have been updated since. The door that leads to my tiny hospital room is being held ajar by a makeshift ace bandage, one side clinging to a wall rack the other to the door handle. As I watched my friends shrinking in the distance, sadly walking away from my little closet of a room assigned to me I had the overwhelming frowning feeling that I want to go back to Apple Bees now. I later learned that Tracy and Melisa went to the bathroom to weep about the horrible condition that they were leaving me with.
The next few days were very trying, the chemo was much more potent and I’ve had a lot more reactions to the chemo. 2 days prior to the actual transplant my feet had developed a strong burning sensation. This was especially hard because I found myself having to sit straight up in a chair with feet soaking in ice. They began administering a drug to help prevent fungus and one of the side effects of this drug is hallucination. It was not uncommon to see me sitting in a chair at 3 in the morning completely alone, both feet in a bucket of ice and petting my dog while talking to someone who even I knew wasn’t there.
The day of transplant was finally here. They call it day zero. Ashley, Lily, Melisa and Tracy were all there for the occasion. I remember the doctor telling me that there is a 10% chance of mortality just from the transplant alone. They hooked up the machines and administered a bunch of pre medications which needless to say made me completely useless and loopy, probably actually a hindrance since I got the great idea to take pictures of everything going on. I remember a guy standing at the door telling me he didn’t want his picture taken as I chuckled and took another snap in his direction. He was not pleased but I didn’t care at that point. They were killing me and bringing me back to life with someone else’s immune system, like science fiction! What did I care what anyone thought at that moment!
In the end, after the drugs wore off and I woke up the next morning feeling the same that I had been feeling for the last 32 years, I realized with a sudden calm that I just beat 10% of the odds, not bad.
I hope all of you are doing well. I will continue to blog on http://www.blogger.com/home?pli=1 I hope all of you will subscribe. I love hearing back from you and I apologize if I take a while to answer some e-mails or posts, as you can probably tell, I have my good days and bad days.

Thanks again for all of your love and support!

Sincerely,
Rick