Twenty years ago today, my wife Molly and I “met”. I use quotes because “meeting” consisted of opening a chat window in the old (and long defunct) MSN Messenger. We were both in our twenties then. I now find myself just barely on this side of fifty. Those years went by so fast.

We were introduced by our mutual friend, Brandon, who thought we should know each other. For years afterward, he swore that it was the only time in his life he’d ever played matchmaker, and the only time he’d ever even gotten a hunch that he should.

I spent today, especially the early hours before family began arriving and the day’s treatments began, thinking about Molly and Brandon.

For twenty years now, Molly has been by my side through so many trials and tribulations—good days, bad days, heartbreaks and joys. We built a foundation and then an entire life together that’s been going strong for two decades—and which is only stronger now than ever.

We owe no small part of that to Brandon and that odd, one-off feeling he got on a hot July evening in 2006.

Exactly a week before I received my MDS diagnosis, Brandon was diagnosed with cancer. His had quietly developed and spread through his system undetected. He tragically passed just six weeks later.

I regret that Brandon and I hadn’t stayed in closer contact over the years. We’d touch base now and then, but our lives were hectic and busy. In the months leading up to our diagnoses, we’d begun texting more, emailing more, and even chatted on the phone a couple times about our mutual love of computer gaming, writing projects, and our respective plans for the future.

Brandon was about eight years younger than I am. I hate that he’s gone. I hate that medicine couldn’t do for him what it is currently doing for me.

I will never stop being grateful for the beautiful gift he gave Molly and me—each other.

——

The big event of the day was my Total Body Irradiation. I wrote about the molds they made of my body last week. Today, the molds were used to administer the radiation that is the final step in wiping out my defective marrow and making room, so to speak, for the new marrow that will grow from the stem cells I will receive tomorrow.

I had another transfusion today, as my hemoglobin had gotten quite low in the last twenty-four hours. And I’ve begun my medications that will help my body accept the new stem cells tomorrow.

Between the radiation and the chemo yesterday, I haven’t had much of an appetite, but I was able to eat some breakfast, dinner (pizza again), and a pudding cup for lunch. This is better than I thought I’d be able to manage at this point.

——

‘Twas the night before transplant and here in my room,

Pizza and angel food cake was consumed.

The fluids were hung on the IV with care,

In hopes that the stem cells soon would be there.

And I’m in my bed as I lie here and write,

And it feel quite a bit like it’s Christmas Even night.

Tomorrow the doctors will come with their gear,

And the millions of gifts I’ve awaited all year.

Sarah’s elves were up late and got carried away,

And now there are extras for beyond Transplant Day.

Tonight as I’m getting ready for bed,

I’ll be thinking of brighter years to come up ahead.