hospitalpics

"Bun" is a nickname my father called her when she was very young.

Each child has their own room which is all sealed up with loud ventilators above each bed to help keep germs out. The ventilators make it a little difficult to talk, but are great to sleep by. I don't believe I saw any of the other patients, but there was a large family gathered a few doors down from Kristy. The looks on their faces and the tears in their eyes was a big reality check for me.

I gave her some movies and music, worked on fixing her laptop, and ate wendys with her. I found it amuzing that she wasn't allowed to order drinks from wendys because the nozzles that spray the pop are unsanitary. I looked at the pop I had just ordered and wondered if I should be drinking it.

I told her about the fund raiser that I was throwing and that Eminem would probably be there, and she giggled. I told her that I planned on having a web cam at the event with a mic so she can see and hear everything as it happens. "Your crazy" was her response, but we both already knew that. I told her I planned on dressing up the camera with some wax lips and wig to make it look like her.

Last night she had to lose the wonder machines because the "port" that had put into her chest was having problems, so now she's getting lots of shots and isn't allowed to leave the bed. :(

I talked to her a few minutes ago and she sounded pretty good inspite of her new confinment. I had her go onto the net and pick out a virtual puppy I'm buying her. It's an early Xmas present from me, a Nintendo DS with one of the 'Nintendogs' packs. The drugs make it hard for her to concentrate, so finding a good game she can play is tough. This one sounds perfect, because it's not really a game, you just play with your puppy and teach it tricks. The DS has a touch screen and voice recognition so she can litterly pet and talk to her doggie. I know, it sounds like a gimmick, but it's getting great reviews all over the net.

My brother has started taking the shots and isn't feeling anything yet. He gets them twice a day and says they're not painful, just weird.

The day of the transplant I opened her door to find her sleeping alone in the dark. I tried my best not to let the door make any noise when I shut it, but she woke up any ways and gave me a weak smile. I sat down and asked her how it's going.

"Mom's driving me crazy. " She said. "She's always making me do things. 'you need to take a shower, change your clothes, eat, brush your hair' It's driving me nuts."

"Sounds like mom" I replied. I think what my mother is doing is great, but brothers and sisters know better than to take MOM'S side, so I didn't tell her that.

Down stairs my brother was donating his bone marrow. He had one tube in each arm and was happy to be doing it. The shots were starting to really affect him. He had really bad lower back pains, and started telling really bad jokes. Today the pain is gone, but the jokes remain, hopefully he'll recover.

After he was done we all sat in Kristy's room waiting for the results. Kristy was curled up on the bed looking unhappy and we talked quietly. Things felt very somber and dark, and there was some anxiety in the air over whether or not the donation would be good.

Then the nurse entered the room with a big smile and a bag of blood. The sample was good, not only good, it was considered perfect, not too many stem cells, not too few.

The entire room got brighter. Kristy sat up and looked practically cured already. The doctor came in all grins. Everyone was smiling and happy.

"You know your brother saved your life today"

Kristy knew.

The doctor held the bag of blood and looked at it. It almost seemed to be glowing to me. The cure was right there in his hands. We were so happy we started snapping pictures of everyone including the doctor. Here's one of Kenny handing Kristy "da stuff".

It was by far the happiest I'd seen her in a long time. I almost expected everyone to break out in a song and start doing cartwheels down the hall.

The day after next my brother and I drove down to see her again. The happiness from the previous visit was lost the minute we walked into the room. This is considered the worse part of the process, I believe. She feels absolutely miserable, and they don't expect her to start feeling better until around the 28th.

That's how she looked when we showed up, and that's how she looked when we left. My mother, despite our protest, woke her up gently to see us. I'd brought the Nintendo DS and dog game but left them wrapped under her little tree. She wasn't going to be playing it any time soon. After seeing us and managing a wry smile she curled back up and closed her eyes.

A while later, I mentioned to my parents that I had brought a box of mints with me, and suddenly she spoke. She reached out her good hand and said "mmmmm Mint". I gave her one and helped her get it open. She ate two and curled back up.

My brother and I talked with my parents while she laid there. We knew she was listening because she'd giggle at some of the things we'd say.

"Having Kenny's blood in her she'll probably find herself drawn to watching Hockey and drinking beer."

"hee hee" from Kristy. We all look over at her, but she looked unchanged, her eyes closed.

I gave her a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

Today my father told me she was still the same. She sleeps as much as possible and is sick in all sorts of ways. He then told me about the doctors saying she was doing better than they expected, and that's when I thought of you guys.

Thanks for your thoughts and prayers everyone. We appreciate it, and I think it's doing some real good.

Rob