So the day finally arrived after more than two years of waiting. It’s been a long road.

It was a busy day. Doctors and nurses came in and out to see me throughout the morning; I got another blood transfusion; I ate all my breakfast!

“One small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.”

That’s kind of what the transplant itself was. I’d been told many times that it is a bit of an anticlimax. The infusion of my sister’s stem cells only took about eight minutes, which is exceptionally quick. I had no immediate negative effects. These are all good things. You basically want nothing to happen. This small moment means everything—it just doesn’t seem like it yet. Not physically, anyway.

They monitored me for a bit before and after to make sure my heart rate, oxygen levels, and blood pressure remained stable. All was well.

I don’t really feel much right now apart from exhaustion. It was a long day, and the anxiety and anticipation leading up to the transplant used up a lot of my energy.

But it’s done. Now comes the hardest part—waiting.

Over the next week my old marrow will bottom out entirely. There will be nothing left to work with, making room for the marrow that is about to start growing from my new shiny stem cells. A few days or a week after that, we will begin to see the first signs of my new marrow taking hold.

It’s a difficult and scary time. I will essentially have no immune system and be living off of transfusions. I’ll feel the worst of the cumulative effects of the chemo, too. I’ll lose my hair. I’ll probably lose much of my interest in food. These are the prices we pay for a miracle.

I’ll take it.

My sister is convinced I’ll soon be sipping wine and listening to Taylor Swift (her pastimes).

I can think of worse ways of paying for a miracle.

That’s all I have energy for tonight. I have more I want to write about, but for now…

Good night and take care.