We've talked about a bone marrow transplant for so long--almost two months. Now that we have a tentative schedule and it's almost here, I'm kind of freaking out.
It's almost here. Just 1-2 more normal days of freedom, then I'll be admitted for a month.
Is it wrong to say I don't want to? I don't want to leave my family and the simple comforts of my house. I don't want to miss that much work. I'll miss playing the organ and teaching Relief Society. I'll miss stretching out my hand at night to rest it against Dale's arm, hand, or back. I'll miss Tubber's soft hair and playful antics. I'll miss Miriam's first day of her senior year and Travis's first day of 8th grade. I'll miss various stages of Jordan's preparations to serve in the Sydney, Australia mission. There's so much to give up temporarily.
I'm such an emotional wreck, trying to get everything on my to-do list done before it's too late. Thank you, Dale, for understanding I just need to cry on your shoulder multiple times and release some of the losses I'm feeling.
Then, we get the final consent form for the transplant to preview before tomorrow's family conference at LDS Hospital. Summary? We're going to kill you. If we don't kill you, we'll make you wish you were dead. If you happen to survive, we're going to severely limit your quality of life in the future.
I know they have to tell you every possibility for full disclosure. However, if I wasn't scared before, I am now. So much that I'm questioning if we're doing the right thing. Aren't there alternatives to consider? Couldn't we just keep doing chemo whenever Hodgkins raises his incessant head?
Dale and I cannot figure this one out on our own, so we make arrangements to attend the temple in the morning.
Hopefully, I can sleep tonight with all of these demon thoughts of possible complications running through my head.
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