Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be in the twilight zone?

I think we now know what it feels like. Bart and I only get to see each other once a day for maximum 1 hour, no touching, not even a kiss. When we visit him, he doesn’t see us, he sees aliens, Smurfs.

We have to wear a protective apron, a FFP2 mask (hello Corona), plastic bags over our shoes and gloves. Not very stylish and very warm but just a small sacrifice we are willing to make as long as we get to see him, talk to him, laugh with him and yes, the occasional tear is shed.

I had bought a new lipstick, just to be sure I was looking my best for Bart. He didn’t comment during the visit. But later that day, during a videocall, he mentioned I looked really pretty with the red lipstick. I was a bit baffled. Didn’t you notice it when I was at the hospital? And as soon as I said it, it dawned on me: I was wearing a face mask. And although he might now be glowing in the dark with all the chemo, he doesn’t have X-ray vision, well not yet 🙂

I remember seeing the movie/documentary Super Size Me. Fast Food restaurants are good at promoting bigger sizes. More is better, more is cheaper.

Super Size me in a hospital is a whole different story. Extremely impressive and frightening at same time. How much medicine can you stuff in a human body? Are they trying to get in the Guinness book of records? How long will he be glowing in the dark?

From this set up on day 1 to ….

And the third hook on the left size has 2 bags. Three of those bags are chemo and I suspect one, or more, of them contains maybe a bit of alcohol because he is still cracking silly jokes. I will go into full investigation mode when I visit him tonight. Interrogate the nurses, cross-examine the doctors and grill the kitchen.

It won’t be a big surprise to you if I say that today the sturdy main course left quite an impact on Bart. Appetite is gone, nausea kicked in and he aches all over his body. But as mentioned above, still in good spirits, maybe literally 🙂

Tonight we say goodbye to Bart 1.0 as the doctor has announced that tomorrow is D-day (donation day). For 10 days Bart will be in no man’s land, transitioning into Bart 2.0.

During this time, the new Stem cells will magically find their way to the correct place and do their thing. With all the medical knowledge in the world, they still haven’t figured out how it is possible that each stem cell knows exactly where to go, apparently it is one of the few remaining mysteries.

To be honest I don’t care how they know. I just hope his donor has watched the Nike commercials : “Just do it”. Or followed closely Obama’s presidential campaign : “Yes, we can”.

And then in 10 days, Bart 2.0 will arise.

I feel like I am writing a bad Sci-Fi script. Well at least the small devices on the catheter stand look like Star Wars troopers and the good guys always triumph at the end of those American B-movies. And I can honestly say, Bart is one of the good guys. So cheer up, keep those fingers crossed (& toes, if you can) and send some positive vibes his way.

I would like to take the time to thank the medical staff : nurses, doctors, etc.. for paying attention in class and taking their studies seriously. It really helps that they know what they are doing.

written by Cat