You might think it odd that I thought tomorrow was my birthday while it’s really today, but you might cut me some slack if I reminded you that I have had five birthdays, and it’s hard to keep them straight.
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| Top, with my donor, Denise Ledvina, in 2011; bottom, celebrating Marge's 100th birthday this weekend |
I think I knew at one point that I was off by a day, and I
was going to fix it on the blog intro, but then it slipped my mind.
The momentous occasion took place around 9:30 p.m. on Jan. 30, 2009.
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| My re-birthday dessert |
It began, “I meant to post yesterday evening at
my leisure while awaiting my cells, which I thought were due to arrive at the
cell manipulation lab at 9:30 p.m. and would therefore come to me around 11.
(Cell manipulation lab sounds so futuristic; I am grateful that in terms of
scientific advances, the future is now.) Then Helen, my nurse last night, said
they would be ready for actual infusion around 9:30 and that she would begin
pre-medicating me at 9 with Ativan and Benadryl, at which point I got all
discombobulated and couldn’t eat my dinner, let alone write.
"It’s not that you have to do anything to receive the cells; you just lie there
and try to stay calm. But it feels momentous, especially when they hook you up
to a monitor tracking your heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen saturation. Of
course it also feels enormous because I know how important those cells are to
me. The infusion took about 45 minutes and went smoothly most of the way while
Helen watched the monitor and me.”
The rest of the evening did not go so smoothly. I wrote,
"The infusion had just about finished when I reacted, either to the cells or to a fever I was going to get anyway. I started shaking vigorously, and my heart rate went up. Helen gave me 25 mg. of Demerol, which didn’t stop the shakes. She paged a doctor who came in quickly. I got another dose of Demerol, more Benadryl, hydrocortisone and some Tylenol. Also they put me on oxygen."
I was worried that the cells would not take, but as you can see, they did. I wouldn't be here without Denise, the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, and The Gift of Life Bone Marrow Registry.
On Dec. 25th, 2008, in a post headlined Downhill all the way, I wrote, after I learned about my second relapse, that I thought it was the end of the road. I was thinking I wouldn't see my children finish growing up, wouldn't see my grandchildren.
I wrote about wandering over to 6A, where I would soon live, asking one of my old nurses, Myra, how I could go through chemotherapy and transplant again.
“Well, you have 48 hours to have your pity party, then you have to quit it and put on your fighting gloves,” she said.
It’s hard to believe it has been 10 years.
In this Philadelphia Inquirer story , I wrote about how Denise's life-saving donation, through The Gift of Life, was inspired by her desire to help the great jazz saxophonist Michael Brecker.
The rest of the evening did not go so smoothly. I wrote,
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| Marge's birthday cakes |
On Dec. 25th, 2008, in a post headlined Downhill all the way, I wrote, after I learned about my second relapse, that I thought it was the end of the road. I was thinking I wouldn't see my children finish growing up, wouldn't see my grandchildren.
I wrote about wandering over to 6A, where I would soon live, asking one of my old nurses, Myra, how I could go through chemotherapy and transplant again.
“Well, you have 48 hours to have your pity party, then you have to quit it and put on your fighting gloves,” she said.
It’s hard to believe it has been 10 years.
In this Philadelphia Inquirer story , I wrote about how Denise's life-saving donation, through The Gift of Life, was inspired by her desire to help the great jazz saxophonist Michael Brecker.
Another momentous event over the weekend was the celebration, on Sunday, of my Aunt Marge’s 100th birthday. A group of us gathered in her apartment for a mid-afternoon party. It was a privilege to be there to mark the occasion and to see her looking so pleased, and so great. You can tell from the smiling faces in the photo that everyone was having a good time.
We had gone down to New York on Friday.
On the way, we had to stop at the dentist. I had catastrophized. I
thought I had lost a chunk of my tooth and that meant yet another tooth was
disintegrating, but I forgot that I had a filling in said front tooth.
So it was just a filling that had fallen out. He replaced it, and off we went.
So it was just a filling that had fallen out. He replaced it, and off we went.
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| View from theater seats |
The next afternoon, we went to Lincoln Center to see “My FairLady,” starring Laura Benanti as Eliza and Danny Burstein as her father. It was loverly and magical.
On Sunday before Marge's party, there was brunch in Brooklyn and a walk (more loveliness) through Prospect Park.
On Sunday before Marge's party, there was brunch in Brooklyn and a walk (more loveliness) through Prospect Park.
