I held that little boy in my arms like you can’t imagine. I waited almost two months for this moment that I thought may never happen. Back in the maternity ward, Nick was able to join us and meet his baby brother Joe. The range of emotion I was feeling was off the charts. I had both boys on my lap and Lor was resting in the bed next to us. How amazing was this. I was alive and this was my family. The euphoria short-lived though. My immune system was so fragile. The longer that I was exposed to the hospital air and those around me, the more dangerous it would become. It would be goodbye for now and back to my parents home. This was a day for the ages. Less than twenty four hours after being released from the bubble, my little guy came into this world. He knew what he was doing. Supercharging me with hope and the strongest will a man could ever feel to survive.
By the time I got back to my parents house I was more than spent. Completely. My In-laws would be holding down the fort with Lori and the boys at home and my parents were taking care of me. The weekend passed as most of my time was spent resting and wishing that I could be home helping with my boys. Unbelievably, my wife would have to go to work on Tuesday. Two days after she got home from the hospital delivering our son. It was just a never ending, no rest for the weary situation for her. Thank god she was so strong. At least, she didn’t have to go down to the city every day anymore. But I did. My first appointment was Tuesday. Back to see my favorite person…Doctor Dave. At least I didnt have to have another bone marrow aspiration. Not yet.
Monday afternoon I was scheduled to have a visiting nurse come and check up on me plus clean my Hickman Catheter. I couldnt wait to have that contraption taken out of my chest. So annoying. It went well though. I think she weighed me in at about 135 lbs. I really needed to be able to taste my food again. It was so hard to eat. I still had horrible mouth sores and everything tasted like shards of metal. Nutrients were so important at this stage of recuperation for me. I needed to gain weight. It was going to be hard to pull off.
Tuesday morning came and the laborious routine of getting dressed and ready to travel began. Heading back to Hahneman hospital, my home away from home, I dreaded the trip. Up the elevator to the 15th floor, into the office that I hadn’t seen since my admission for the transplant. Off of the elevator, turn left for the offices or right for the bubbles. It was very strange. My visits to the office before the transplant, I would try not to stare at the patients ravaged by chemotherapy. Sullen, pale, scarves, baseball caps, many in wheelchairs, the waiting room was full of them. Now, it was my turn to be a member of the club. It didnt feel good at all. It was awful. I was now the spectacle. The new patients coming through the door were trying not to look at me now. Go ahead, I understand.
Anyway, my appointment didn’t go very well. Dr. Dave did not like my appearance, my blood counts were dropping and I had developed a fever. I guess so much had transpired in the short time after I was released that my body was not ready for it. The wheelchair ride to the inpatient cancer ward was swift and not so sweet. No wonder they left the Hickman Catheter in me. “Here’s your gown Mr. Keenan”. “Welcome back”.
On a side note… this past week, 9/10/20, I just returned from a trip to Florida. I was visiting with a good friend of mine, relaxing for a bit, when a familiar song began playing on Music TV that was on at the time. My back was to the TV but the distinctly familiar sound of the opening waterfall sounds hit me like a brick. The tears simultaneously began flowing. I tried to control the emotional response that automatically triggers itself. My friend looked at me while this situation unfolded mid conversation and didn’t know what was going on or what to think. He asked if I was alright, like WTH? Trying to compose myself, and feeling like an idiot, I apologized and tried to explain. The words ripped into me as the tears continued to flow… “How many special people change?” ” How many lives are living strange?” Twenty four years later…that damn “Champagne Supernova”… Gets me every time.
Next Up: Another week in Paradise