Scared out of My Gourd
It's all bad dad jokes, y'all. I know nothing else. |
So, I got all the stem cells I needed, by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin (which is actually sporting some actual hair these days... just in time for me to get nuked again and have it all fall out once more). They hoped for 5 million, but were willing to accept 2.5. I came in at 2.502.
Seriously, y'all. It's like my body's just messing with me.
Wanna see what stem cells look like? You know you do.
Apparently, this is what stem cells look like. Gross. |
Collecting stem cells is HARD WORK, y'all. |
What's more awesome than dogs? Um, dog robots, clearly. |
It's seriously like something out of an old 70s sci-fi flick. But hey, whatever works, right?
I'm really grateful that I got enough of those little buggers. I wasn't at all sure that was going to happen (as per this post). We celebrated by falling into bed, utterly exhausted. Oh, and while I was waiting to get my possible evening shot on that last day, I took my oldest son to see Cats. It was the only movie that was playing at the right time and actually had seats available. Plus, after all the truly horrific reviews, I was kind of excited to see it.
Yes, this is a total side track. Really, by this point, you should be expecting it. That, or you haven't been paying attention.
You go, Taylor Swift. You. Go. |
Look, it's an almost nightmarish mess, but so is the musical. There's no real plot to speak of (there's actually more in the film than there was in the stage version), as it's just a bunch of poems about cats set to music. It's visually dark, disturbing, gorgeous, uncomfortable, strangely erotic, and... did I mention disturbing? The singing is (at times) stunning (and even when it's not, it's pretty heartfelt), the dancing is sublime, and I think I might be a little bit in love with Francesca Hayward.
Also, I will never be able to unsee those dancing cockroaches. No, I'm not kidding.
My eyes. MY EYES. |
All right. Enough about Cats.
Now that I have enough stem cells, I'm starting to freak out. A little. Okay, that's a lie. I'm freaking out a lot.
I go into the hospital on Tuesday the 14th. That's less than a week away. WHAT THE ACTUAL #$%*??? A week's worth of massive doses of chemotherapy, enough to completely kill my entire immune system, down to the bone marrow. Then, on about the 21st or so, I get my stem cells back and then slowly regrow my defenses from scratch.
I'm going to be in isolation, an hour away from home, for at least a month and possibly more. I have no real clue how the chemo will hit me; I just know it will. Probably pretty hard.
I'm scared.
The other thing that's been strange is to go back to teaching after finding out I wasn't among the finalists for the tenure-track position. That first day, I didn't want to go. I was feeling low, like I just wasn't that good of a teacher, that I felt rejected and unloved.
Then I taught, and it was glorious.
Sometimes, in brief moments, I forget how much I love it. Meeting new students. Seeing the gleam in their eyes as they catch excitement for the ideas we're sharing and working on. Watching their progress. Observing their true selves start to shine forth in all of their beauty and radiance.
And once more, I fall in love with them.
Now, here I am, dying to watch their journey, and knowing that I'll only be there for part of it. That's another level of pain that I wasn't really anticipating.
I'm hoping that I'll feel well enough that I can at least Skype in with them from time to time while I'm in isolation. We'll see what I'm up for. One thing, however, was crystal clear. I don't think I'll ever be able to completely give up on teaching. It means too much to me. What that'll look like, I'm not sure, but I plan on making it a part of my life as long as I'm able.
Good and bad. Exciting and scary. Painful and peaceful. That's what my holidays have been. That's what the first week back at school looked like.
And I have a feeling that will be my stem cell transplant, too. I'm choosing to do this. No one's forcing it down my throat. I want to live, to be able to see my kids grow older, my students progress, my wife and I age magnificently together.
Come hell or high water, that's what I'm going to do.
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In our next episode, we'll have a rap session on... wait for it... POLITICS! What could possibly go wrong?
Dude. DUUUUUDE. |
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