More Like Night Zero

So here's me.
Rumors of my demise--spread mostly by me--have been greatly exaggerated. Actually, this is me taking advantage of the couple of hours during the day when I feel good, before I get medicated/procedurated/nauseated and it's back to lying in bed and praying for unconsciousness.

Not sure when my stem cells will arrive; they said more than likely this evening, since the donor has to donate this AM and then they have to be "processed" and delivered. So it's kind of like Night Zero, as opposed to Day Zero. Apparently whatever "process" they give them makes the recipient nauseated {as an aside: is there anything in this entire procedure that is NOT designed to nauseate you?! What a total lack of imagination on the part of American medicine}. So the actual getting of the cells is less glamorous than once I had thought: me with a martini, cute summer dress, big Jackie O sunglasses, classily receiving my infusion, "would you be a dear, darling, and give me a refill?" Nope. It's more like me either passed out or rocking back and forth dramamine-style.

Hey--however it happens, as long as it happens. Darling.