Raspberry sherbet

This is PJ here, guest blogging for Ronni, aka Wonder Woman.

When I walked into Ronni's room yesterday, she was sitting in a chair by the window, the remains of lunch on the tray in front of her. Ronni's been through the wringer, but she's back.

Normally we'd spend some time on techno-transplant talk--blood counts. chimerism, viral loads, neutropenia--but we spoke instead about our kids, her donor (who'd sent a beautiful handmade necklace), the next steps on the road to recovery. I spied a tiny wind-up horse on her bedside table and asked what that was about. A friend sent it to me, she said. Go ahead, wind it up. While the horse skittered around the table, Ronni asked me if I knew of the Seinfeld episode in which ponies are discussed. "I had a pony!" I blurted out. There we were, two New Yorkers laughing about Seinfeld and the famous Pony Remark.

This brings me to the raspberry sherbet incident. A dietician walked into the room carrying a small tray stacked with six containers of raspberry sherbet. Hospital life is full of absurdities, and this was one of them. What was Ronni supposed to do with six rapidly melting sherbets? Stash them in the mini-fridge? (She doesn't have one). Throw a party? Ronni did the sensible thing, of course, and rang for a nurse, who came and removed five of the containers. It was a Seinfeldian moment.

As Ronni enjoyed her single serving of sherbet, we talked a little about next steps. The steps will be small, but Ronni is determined to make them.

I left the room, buoyed by Ronni's attitude, and certain that whatever is thrown in her path, she will kick it to the curb and move on.