After a twenty-four hour wait, the call finally came, and a lovely room with a view of the Penn medical school campus opened up. Jacqui and I are now at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania (6014 Rhodes Pavillion), there’s an IV in my arm, and it’s time to continue the process of de-lymphomatization, or, in other words, time to get this nonsense out of me.
So here we sit, having just told a nurse the time of my last bowel movement, waiting for my first chemo order to be filled. The chemo will be “delivered” twice a day in a two hour drip. The nurse doesn’t expect me to feel too bad this cycle, and is sure that we’ll be on Cape Cod late Saturday night for a little R&R.
Most of you probably think that either a) I am completely insane for joking my way through lymphoma OR b) I am in complete denial for joking my way through lymphoma. I would suggest, instead, c) that the best way for me to slay this beast is with determination, optimism, and laughter. I have no doubt in the outcome, but I do recognize that there are peaks and valleys ahead, and that sometimes the space between the two may seem vast. But with my wife by my side, with a baby on the way, with my side kick Otis making me laugh, and with all of you standing by, the ride will be much smoother than it would be if I were facing this alone.