you know your husband loves you when...

FADE IN:

CEDARS SINAI MEDICAL CENTER:

Int. Hospital room. Night.

A WOMAN in her early 40's, despite looking remarkably young for her age, writhes in agony on the bed. Cold compress on her head; hands clutched tightly over her belly. ROSA, late 50's, filipino and fabulous, counts out several pills into a plastic cup. UBERHUSBAND, late 30's, handsome, yet clearly stressed out, hovers anxiously nearby.

ROSA: Here you go, honey. Your night pills. Cyclosporin, Cell Cept, Norvasc, Zanaflex, Sodium Bicarbonate and Nortriptiline.

WOMAN: I don't know. (groaning) I think I might throw up.

ROSA: Small sips of water. Just one at a time.

The WOMAN cautiously sits up, reaches into the cup, and begins to swallow her pills.

UBERHUSBAND: So when does she get her next IV drip of DHE?

ROSA checks the computer.

ROSA: Not until midnigh...

The WOMAN frantically grabs the nearby bucket and proceeds to HEAVE HO.

WOMAN:BLLLAAARRRRRGGGHHHHHaaaaahhhhhh.....(sputter. sputter.)

ROSA: Are you OK, honey?

WOMAN: (catching her breath) Yeah, I think that was...BLLLLLAAAAARRRGGGGHHHaaaahhhhhhh..(cough. sputter. cough. sputter.) it.

ROSA and UBERHUSBAND stand at the end of the bed, both holding onto the bucket, intensely inspecting its contents.

ROSA: OK. Did she swallow the cyclosporin?

UBERHUSBAND: (peering intently at the vomit). Well, this one is Cell Cept, for sure.

ROSA: What about this one here?

UBERHUSBAND: No, Cyclosporin is more like a gel capsule.

ROSA: And what about this red stuff?

UBERHUSBAND: Nah, that's just the tomato soup she had for lunch.

You know your husband loves you when.

solitary confinment

so my entry about june 9th left me melancholy.

yes, there might be hope; but reading my pamphlet left me cold.

i have had frequent panic attacks this week.

the monumental forms have left me stone cold; scared beyond belief.

i appreciate all the warm love and support; but there is so much more on this journey...

an e-mail or entry on face book is warming and helpful.

but, a wall post is a minute at best; and i still have 23 hours and 59 minutes to suffer through.

so, judge me if you dare. i really don't care. chronic illness is a long and winding road. i can't work; have limits that leave me saddened and painful side effects.

so hope? good spirits? and expectation for the future? give me a break.

ah, when i was 19, i was sick and depressed. and nothing much has changed.

perhaps, this entry is gloomy; but i mourn all i have lost.

so, please understand my voyage.

i am scared, fearful and anxious.

wednesday the 9th will be stressful.

so, hold my hand during this day. i need it. i crave it and desire your love.

please help me through this time.

june 9th

there are some dates that cause ice to flow through your veins; that make your stomach drop.

for me, that date is june 9th.

on that date, at 7:15 am, for 4-5 hours, i meet my future "team" at cedars-sinai.

that includes my nephrologist, urologist, surgeon, transplant coordinator, financial analyst, dietitian and social worker.

a plethora of comments have been bestowed. "we are so happy for you", "i am so excited", "you must be so relieved"...

nothing could be farther from the truth.

the booklet of information fills me with dread.

what if kevin isn't a match? what if i reject within the first year, as is common? there are a multitude of drugs i need to take post-transplant. and what about the increase in prednisone and immunosuppressives? it will leave me tired, sick and weak.

so june 9th looms large.

but this is my journey. "you are where you are supposed to be"...

so cherish your health. rejoice in your energy. and love, love, love.

for my road is challenging, lonely and isolating.

but, i have hope. it may be fleeting, but it's there.

it's there.