“Can you feel the love tonight?

It is where we are

It’s enough for this wide-eyed wanderer

That we’ve got this far”—Elton John/Tim Rice, Can You Feel the Love Tonight

What a day.

I woke up at 4:00 AM this morning, and though I really didn’t need to get up until closer to 4:30, I was too keyed up with anxiety to sleep any longer.

The day began with the placement of my central line. If you’re not familiar, a central line is sort of like a big IV in an artery or large vein that stays in your chest for as long as you need it. It prevents endless IV sticks, but also requires a procedure to install and remove.

I’d been getting myself worked up about it for quite a some time. While I can’t call any of it pleasant, it wasn’t as bad as I feared. The worst part, by far, was that I had worked myself up into a state during the prep for the procedure—right up to the line of a panic attack. (Panic attacks are something I’ve struggled with throughout my adult life.)

In the end, the procedure was a mix of…well, I don’t really know, because I only remember snapshots of the procedure interspersed with drug-fueled dreams from the sedative they used. Most of the dreams I can’t remember enough of to make sense of, but there was one that I remembered quite clearly afterward.

In the dream, I’m walking across a large room. On the floor, scatter helter-skelter like gravel, are thousands of six-sided dice. In front of me, in the far corner to my right, there is an enormous chicken. (This was the drugs, clearly.) The chicken stood a bit taller than me, and it was flapping its wings and speaking in a booming demonic voice. It told me that the dice belonged to it and I needed to get away.

I’m sure people can have some fun analyzing that one.

The central line is very sore yet, even as I write this some twelve hours later. But it’s tolerable. And hey! They just came to take blood and no needles were involved. Hallelujah!

The middle portion of the day was spent waiting for the call to tell us the room was ready for my admission. That call didn’t come. I assume someone forgot. My wife eventually got our transplant coordinator on the phone and we were finally able to get me settled in the room that will be my dungeon for the next month. My wife, sister, parents, and mother-in-law all came to see my room and get me settled. A He-Man action figure and a bouquet of paper roses sits on the window sill. A banner with Braille wishes hangs across one wall. Everyone is amazing.

The staff here have spent much of the last little while poking and prodding me. That is, by and large, what doctors and nurses do. I seem to have passed all their tests.

My family has all gone home; I’m writing this as I wait for my first blood transfusion of my stay and listen to the insufferable roar of the air conditioning.

I’m tired. I miss my wife and my dog. But I’m taking the first steps to healing.

All day today, I received well wishes from friends and family sending their love and support. It has been wonderful and humbling in equal measure.

Tomorrow, my sister receives her central line placement to be my donor. I wish she didn’t have to go through it, and love her to pieces for her willingness to give part of herself to help me heal.

Can you feel the love tonight?

I can.