I’m being discharged today on my favorite holiday of all time…
I’ll be heading to Duarte for a night, then on Friday checking into the City of Hope Hospital to start the process of a Bone Marrow Transplant. My actual transplant will take place on December 10th, all I know about the donor is that he is the same age and weight as my father would be, if he were still alive…and that our genes are a 10/10 match, legally in two years I can meet this person if he agrees, for now I can write letters to him, filtered through a social worker, and he can only respond anonymously.
I’d like to give thanks today to this person that I’ve never met and to everyone and everything…sitting here with this diagnosis really puts things into perspective…what wonderful people I’m surrounded by, my family, my friends, my community…everyone’s pulling for me and I’m grateful for the support, it’s keeping me going, staying positive…staying strong.
I’d like to paint a scene that happened a couple of days ago as I was taken from my room and brought to the basement of the hospital for a CTscan.
INT. ROOM 610, CHEMO FLOOR, KAISER HOSPITAL BUILDING 1526
A MAN sits cross-legged on a hospital bed. He’s covered in gowns and blankets, his head is shaved. He resembles a more pathetic version of the King of Siam.
On either side of him sit two pillars of light…
THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN
Mr. Goss, it’s time, we’ve gotta take you down to the basement now.
The Man slowly steps down from the bed, slides into worn brown slippers and walks towards the door.
As he reaches the door he turns to look over his shoulder…
The room behind him is now filled with white light. Light so white it’s blinding.
He squints back, snowblind.
Mr. Goss, we’ve got to go…
Through the blinding light he can make out two female faces, one slightly older, one younger.
He smiles as a single tear slips down his cheek. He pauses for a moment longer, then turns and walks out.
As the door closes behind him and he’s wheeled away down the hall he can still see the white light glowing from underneath the crack in the door, spilling out into the hallway.
He mumbles something to himself about light and dark and angels as the wheels of the hospital bed squeal faster and faster…