five years
Today marks the five year anniversary of the bone marrow transplant that saved my life, as well as, coincidentally, six years since I was originally diagnosed with cancer and my life fell to pieces in the first place.
I don't have any profoundly deep thoughts on the matter. The doctors and nurses who took care of me during my 36 day transplant stay used to tell me that my transplant day was my new second birthday. They were really emphatic about it, but I never really shared their enthusiasm. Most of them expected me to die, and I expected to die. I've never understood how people can celebrate this day like it's some kind of personal holiday. Usually I spend today split between reflection on the experiences and emotions from that most stressful time in my life and the unfortunate reassessment that I've accomplished practically nothing in the years that have followed. I guess today was an exception, as I spent most of my day wrestling with an interpersonal problem between me and one of my dearest friends instead, but I still found at least a little time to be brooding and disappointed with myself as well.
I don't have any profoundly deep thoughts on the matter. The doctors and nurses who took care of me during my 36 day transplant stay used to tell me that my transplant day was my new second birthday. They were really emphatic about it, but I never really shared their enthusiasm. Most of them expected me to die, and I expected to die. I've never understood how people can celebrate this day like it's some kind of personal holiday. Usually I spend today split between reflection on the experiences and emotions from that most stressful time in my life and the unfortunate reassessment that I've accomplished practically nothing in the years that have followed. I guess today was an exception, as I spent most of my day wrestling with an interpersonal problem between me and one of my dearest friends instead, but I still found at least a little time to be brooding and disappointed with myself as well.