The Transplant

This is an entry I wrote at 3:30 am the night of the transplant. Sasha was awake that night with a mild fever remnant of his virus and lay curled against me in bed. I was stirred by the transplant experience and unable to sleep so I grabbed a notebook and pen as I had done many times that week and just began to write. Several people have asked if I might share our experience. My handwriting is a challenge for me to translate but the piece went something like this.

chimerism

I am not the type of person who flips to the end of a book before I decide whether or not I am willing to settle into the narrative and yet when it comes to this story, I find myself desperate to know the ultimate conclusion.  As I lay sleepless at night contemplating and refining my role in service to the main character of this tale, I wonder what it will take for me to get my hands on a copy of the divine author's outline? If only the author will tell me how these characters fare this challenge, I promise I will read, no savor, each moment of every scene and chapter no matter how mundane or harrowing.