And Here We Go

I’ve always considered forgiveness something other people had to learn and deal with.
Victims of crimes, victims of accidents, victims of abuse.
They all have to learn to forgive or they stay stuck; angry in a way that repels people.
Week one of pre transplant testing is over.
I am in the trial and set to start the day of chemotherapy and all that follows.
Dr.Allan, the neurologist that told me in April I’d never get better, wants me to go home.
Said he “wouldn’t recommend me for transplant and would put that in my file.” Said” his opinion held a lot of weight, and his opinion was still that I’d never recover.
Transplant was a waste on me. He doesn’t want me in the trial.”
I frantically call Dr. Burt.” Can he keep me out? Can he really send me home?”
Dr.Burt assures me. He says “if I want it, he’ll do it”
I am now “off trial” but getting the same treatment. I am not the only one.
I’ll forgive Dr. Allen, but not today.
The first of the pre-tests start with a tech named Hannibal.
He was funny and told us jokes.
I had to carry around my pee in a huge plastic jug for 24 hours and give 20 vials of blood, thankfully not to Hannibal. I had X-rays and an EKG, an Echocardiogram, a Pulmonary function tests and the dreaded Bone marrow biopsy.
Bone marrow and bone pulled out, by force, not pleasant, on any level.
He went in six times. I had my pants pulled down and was not prepared for this.
I cried and drew my knees up, hands grabbing at the paper on the exam table.
My mascara ran and I couldn’t see. Snot went into my mouth.
I begged him to stop.
I felt fragile and a little violated after.
I cried.
My bones have become soft after two years on steroids, the doctor said” it made it hurt more.” He said he “was sorry” I believed him but it made me hurt a lot.

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