The Penultimate Day

I've always wanted to use the word ' penultimate' and now I have the chance. Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we transplant! I have survived, with my dear friend Fred's amazing support, the last week of chemo. It's been rocky but I feel pretty good tonight. Let me correct a few things I've heard in people's well-meant words. It is my brother that will be in surgery tomorrow, though he will be, well, punctured rather than cut into. He will be under general anesthetic for a short period, and has some lovely pain medication to help him through afterward. The marrow will be taken up to a lab and fiddled with for 2-3 hours I am told, and then I will get it back in the clinic via IV infusion. It will look for all the world like an infusion of blood, rather anti-climactic.
I am not spending tonight in the hospital, though I wish I were - Scott has to be there at 5:30 AM. Apparently beauty sleep can be dispensed with for transplantation. [There is a whole line of jokes about a 'Trans Plantation' here in the South that I will spare you from.] I go to the clinic when it opens at 7:30. We will probably be home by 2 or 3 in the afternoon. This whole procedure is designed to be done on an outpatient basis, though there is a fair chance that I may have to be admitted at some point down the line for what's called a 'neutropenic fever.' Any temp over 100.4 has to be called in immediately and is a likely an infection due to insufficient germ-fighting cells (neutrophils). The upside to that is that the admission is immediate: I bypass the ER completely.
The bigger test, it would appear, is two more days of chemo on Friday and Saturday. An agent charmingly named Cytoxan, and yes you heard it right, post-transplant chemo. It apparently has no negative effect on the transplant. After that it's all recovery, though not without risk. My (blood) counts should return about 3 weeks after that, but there will be immuno-suppressive drugs so that my body doesn't resist the transplant. Lots of stuff managed (mostly) by smarter people than myself. My job is stay away from sneezy people and not eat things like sushi. And wash my hands all the time.
All that said I want to reiterate how grateful I am to you all for your kind words, prayers and warm wishes. Thanks to my nephew, newly minted Second Lieutenant Steven Moody, for stopping by in his Army uniform. Thanks to my future caregivers. I know that Dennis, whom I miss so much, is watching over me and that I am rich beyond measure in family and friends. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart. More tomorrow.