"You're an angel," the nurse said, hovering over me as I lay sprawled on my back in the recovery room, surrounded by other groggy patients waking up from anesthesia. I didn't feel like an angel. There was an IV in my neck, because the anesthesiologist couldn't find a decent vein in my arms (which were covered in bruises as evidence of his noble attempts), and a sandbag lodged under the small of my back to put pressure on the puncture sites. My throat was raw from the breathing tube that had been down it, and I was seeing double from all the painkillers being generously pumped into me.
At that point, if anyone had reminded me to focus on the recipient of my bone marrow, rather than myself, I would have said something unprintable.
Looking back now, with the grand perspective of one week, I realize that donating my bone marrow only lead to a series of minor inconveniences - don't be fooled by my dramatization. I returned home that evening, walking like a baby with a loaded diaper, to my friends' great amusement. The next couple days passed in a haze of Percocet. I'm sure I had many visitors, and that we spoke at great length, but I wouldn't want to be quizzed on it.
Truthfully, my procedure went very smoothly. On average, it takes 45 minutes to two hours to withdraw marrow from a patient. The doctor got all she needed from me in 20 minutes and only needed to make two punctures in both sides of my hipbones. She later thanked Sarah, the health worker from the National Institute of Health who has graciously seen me through this whole adventure, for bringing in "a nice little one." (Apparently, the smaller a patient is, the easier it is to access their marrow.)
Before I even left Fairfax Hospital that night, my marrow was in a plane on the way to its recipient, who would receive it through a transfusion. I wrote a card for my recipient, wishing him the best of luck, to be given to him with my marrow. Now I'm eagerly awaiting word on how he's doing, but unfortunately, it might take some time. It takes about a month to determine whether the transplant has been successful, thus giving him a chance to recover from leukemia.
I was told I'd experience some soreness for the next week from the needle punctures in my hipbones. Indeed, the next day I felt as though I'd been kicked in the back by a horse - several times - but the pain faded significantly with each passing day. The fact that I was overwhelmed with cards, balloons, flowers and cupcakes from my friends and family didn't hurt, either. Now I'm walking with as much grace as I was before the procedure (read: not very much), and getting my energy back. Initially, I was wiped out, of which my friend noted: "You're a lot less abrasive than usual." But no worries, once again I can muster all my New York sarcasm to greet the world (read: a considerable amount).
As I milk this procedure for all it's worth to excuse myself from going to the gym, I'm left wondering about my recipient. I can't wait to hear news about him, and hope that wherever he is, he's hanging on and gradually healing from his illness.
