This morning, I had my pre-admission appointment. Instead of seeing my official transplant doctor—he’s on vacation for a few days—I saw someone new who was quite nice. (It’s always a little nerve racking to meet a new doctor.) Everything checked out, and I was cleared for tomorrow’s admission.

At the ungodly hour of 6:30 AM tomorrow, I will be at the hospital to receive my central line. I have a fair bit of anxiety about this, but I continue to tell myself that it will almost certainly not be as bad as I’m imagining. So far, everything at this cancer institute has been easier and less unpleasant than the anticipation beforehand. I shall endure.

Until today, I have worn my hair quite long for more than twenty years. I’ve shortened it now and then, but it isn’t natural to me. I feel much more myself with long hair. Today, I had to have it cut. I’ll be losing most of it over the next few weeks anyway, so the hospital has a policy on how long it can be. I’m not especially vain, but it still makes me sad. My hair is a part of my identity—and while some people like it and some don’t—it’s me. Ah well. I shall endure.

The last part of the day was time spent with family—playing dominos and eating some truly spectacular Italian food; that’s likely to be one of the last decent meals I have for the foreseeable future. I shall endure.

Tomorrow, day -7, is admission day. What am I feeling? A mix of emotions that are jumbled and sometimes confused. Relief that this is finally happening and that there is light at the end of the tunnele; dread, for all the hardships, trials, and indignities I will be forced to contend with through the transplant and recovery; hope for life returning to a semblance of normalcy; sadness for all that I will be missing over the next many months.

As ever, I shall endure.