The Indiana Surprise! (Part 3, Good or Evil?)

Dear Reader,

My time-traveling journey is almost complete. This is Part 3. I'm thinking there is only going to be 4 parts. It was a big trip to Indiana, and like I said, lots happened. If you missed Part 2, you can read it HERE. If you missed Part 1, there is a link to it from Part 2.

So I was saying, it was Sunday afternoon (the 20th) and we were going to leave that day. We (being my family and I) were all hanging out at the Proud House and enjoying each other's company when the Preacher Man walked in.

I was sitting on the couch and he walked in the back door. I could tell who it was right away. He had a loud voice and had a (what my mom would call) "home boy" way about him. My mom defines a "home boy" as a male who acts like he's from your home, or grew up with you. Brother would be my home boy by Mom's definition.

Anyway, judging by his voice and word choices, and the way everyone interacting with him and seeing him sounded, I estimated him to be a guy with one of those round bellies that hang over your belt a bit and not extremely tall. This man probably enjoys a beer every now and then and I wouldn't be surprised if he likes to play with cars. His head is probably bald right on top with hair on the back and near his ears, but not on his forehead. He wears good long lasting shoes and he eats a lot of left-overs. He is probably dressed kind of nice, seeing as he supposedly just came from church. He's definitely someone who gets excited, jolly like, and he has big hands made especially for engulfing the heads of children and helping ladies carry things.

That's all I'm able to get without seeing him.

I get up off the couch and go to meet him and say hi. He is here to see me after all, plus, I'm a polite kind of person.

I was pretty much right about how he looked, except he wasn't dressed as nice as I thought he would be. He had on a really old sweat-shirt that probably used to be black but the color faded so much it wasn't really anymore, and jeans. I didn't look at his shoes, that would show lack of confidence on my part, and his head was bald just like I thought. His hands were shaking mine and they were the large kind that swallow the heads of children and help ladies carry things, just as I had suspected.

He smiled and was happy to see me, excited and jolly, like I had guessed. My Dad, Mom, Grannee, and I exchanged pleasantries with him and before I knew it my Dad had pulled out a chair from the dining room table, faced it towards the Preacher Man, and I was sitting in it.

I was on the spot and it was time to pray.

I managed to glance beyond the Preacher Man to my Proud Aunt (or Proud Woman, as referred to earlier). She smiled at me and I couldn't figure out what kind of smile it was, and I still can't, but I think it helped me.

The Preacher Man started to talk. He talked very intensely. He was leaning down a bit so he was right in my face and his eyes were staring into mine as though he was trying to control my mind with them. I started back with what I hope/think were calm, relaxed, and even cool eyes.

The man was definitely still the excited Man I thought him to be, but if it weren't for the smile I would doubt the jolly-ness.

"So, you're sick. And you want to be healed don't you?" The Preacher Man says with his loud voice.

I knew you wouldn't understand. Everyone thinks I'm sick. I'm not sick! Ahhh! I'm just waiting for my T-Cells to grow and mature! There is no more 'sickness'. The day my new bone marrow took, all the sickness was gone. I am healed. I'm just waiting for T-Cell function, for God's time. I'm not sick. And I'm not in denial either! "No. I'm not sick anymore. I'm just waiting for my T-Cells to grow." I reply very calmly (and a little slowly) as though I am talking to a child. Usually when people show this amount of ignorance I lash out a full dose of Miss E.-ness and the person to whom I am talking to ends up learning a TON of new medical terminology, or they end up with a kind of "duh" expression... either way it usually results in laughs, but I was trying to be especially good.

Mom jumps in immediately after to explain the words I had just uttered. I am very thankful for this because it helps show that I am not intending to be a brat or be sassy.

"Oh." says the Preacher Man "But, you still have Leukemia." He states this but there is uncertainty in his eyes.

Now I feel sorry for the guy. I know there is no way he could understand because none of my family up there does, but you can tell he feels a bit left out, misinformed.

I gently shake my head as though not wanting to disappoint him and hear Mom echo me, "No, that's all gone now." Again thankful for her because I fear I might be getting a rather smug bratty shadow of a smile on my face, and I really DO NOT want to be a brat. Not to a holy man.

"Okay. Well somethings wrong with you! There's something inside of you." He tells me this while his mouth wears a slightly insane grin, his hands out to me, pleading. He is desperate.

I do not want to talk. I am determined to be very good. I look at the floor for a second, I was right about the shoes. Then Mom, always the hero, says, "Well, she is waiting for her T-Cells to grow."

"Well! We'll go with that then!" He says clapping his hands together, somewhat relieved.

That obstacle overcome, he tries to start again.

"So, that thing, what ever is inside of you. You want it to be gone right? You want to be healed." He expects me to confirm this, but I don't.

Instead, I smile and say, "I want what God wants for me." Which is 100% the truth. I've been there, I've done that. I've asked, 'Why can't I get better already?', 'I've been sick for so long.', 'I don't know how much more I can handle.', 'I want to feel good, I just want to go to school.' I've had really long tear-filled conversations with God on this topic and I know what I want now, and it isn't to get better. I don't want that if it isn't part of the plan for me. All I want is to follow the path and not to mess up. Like I said, I want to be good.

I hear Grannee's voice say, "Perfect answer." in my ear. So again, I am reassured that I am not being a brat. Which is good because I am so sure that everything I say is making me look more like one.

"Good!" Is what the Preacher Man says, "So you want to be healed!" Okay, that is not what I said, but he isn't going to wait for me to give him any cheek or pose any argument. He is just going to continue, and I am not going to interrupt. "And you believe that you are going to be healed?" Here he stops for my reply. However, Mom answers for me again. I think she somehow has a sense of the impression I am trying not to make and intends to rescue me.

"She believes she already is healed." Mom says.

The poor man can't catch a break! "Alrighty then! Lets get started!" He says with clapping his hands together with enthusiasm.

"Lord Jesus," he starts with, "Lord Jesus, you said that if you believe it shall be done. And Lord we believe. Yes, Lord we believe...." Then he goes on for not even half a sentence when all the sudden he is saying, "Lord take this evil out of this girl! Take out the sickness and evil! This evil that is inside of her! Take it! Take it Lord and cast it down to hell!"

'HOLY CRAP I'M GETTING EXORCISED!' Those were my exact panicked thoughts. I know, my mind has such a potty mouth. Anyway, I'm freaking out and I didn't really hear much else of what he was saying because I was stuck on that, "take this evil out of this girl!" business.

Evil? I have evil inside of me?

I mean I know I was a little ornery sometimes, maybe a little bit mischievous in my younger days. "Brother did it!", "Baby! You shouldn't fart like that!" I know, but I was just a little kid. I never thought of myself as evil. I don't think I ever did anything evil. In fact I thought of myself as a pretty good kid. Some people would even call me the perfect child.

I don't think that being sick is bad either. I mean good things can come from it if you let them. You can make it bad if you want but it can go the other way. Something that I like to think I had accomplished.

Mother Goose has expressed to me many times that all of my #2 Fans have become better people because of their whole experience. Not just the sickness, but the experiences that came with it. Like meeting me, something that would have never happened if the Swain Princess hadn't gotten sick. They say that their lives have actually gotten better because of it.

Imagine that? Your life improving because of something evil?

That's the thing. People that have taken their sickness and let it change them for the better can't imagine their lives without it, and in the end, they are so thankful that it happened to them. They are thankful that they became such beautiful people. Maybe you used to be an ugly duckling, but then something happened in your life that made you and even the people around you into beautiful Swain-like Princesses.... Or Princes, for our male readers. How can that thing be evil?

More so, how can that evil be in me? Could I really have all that evil in me without me even knowing it? I don't think I did anything worthy of being called evil. I mean watch the news, there is tons of evil stuff... Sickness isn't bad.

I snapped in and out of my thoughts to catch glimpses of what the Preacher Man was saying. I did this enough to know he meant everything he said with good intentions, but telling someone that evil lives in them is kind of like telling someone that they are ugly. You can say it as nice as you want, but it still doesn't make them feel good. However I was able to very easily forgive the man for his accusations, because it was very evident that he did everything he did with love.

So, that was all good. However when the Preacher Man left and everyone settled bad down, I did start to sense something bad, and I sensed it with my nose.

End of Part 3

The Indiana Surprise! (Part 2)

Dear Reader,

I know it is taking me a while to post "Part 2" but it is Christmas time and I have been very busy. So, I'm going to continue my time traveling and post "Part 2" of my trip to Indiana now.

If you missed Part 1, you can read it HERE.

We left off my trip last Saturday, the 19th. Everyone except for me and my dad was at the family Christmas party. Dad and I decided to watch a rather stupid movie called, "The Spirit". It is Dad's kind of movie. I was getting very hungry. I hadn't been eating very much during the trip because I was still on the low-microbial diet. So, Dad and I started to make Mung Bean.

I was starvingly hungry when Mom called and said to "Get Ready!" Her and Grannee were on their way back from the party to take us to see Christmas lights. When they got to the house, I grabbed a banana and some water and got in the van. We went to Puluski to see the lights, I sat in the back of Grannee's van with my cousin. She is my only Young Cousin, so that is her code-name. The Young Cousin (who is 10 years old by the way, to be 11 on Jan. 20) was going to spend the night at Grannee's house that night.

The lights were great, but I was glad to get back to the Mung Bean. I downed 3 bowls of the stuff and it was good!

When I was done eating Mung Bean, me and my Young Cousin went outside with Piggy to play in the snow. It was the perfect snow, a "Southern Snow" as my Grannee called it. We made a snowman, I have a picture, but I was unable to download it. This is a major bummer, because that picture was supposed to be the substance of my Part 2 post. Playing in the snow was really great and very fun, snow is really very fascinating.

Piggy loved playing in the snow. She ran around and hopped in it, she tried to catch snowballs in her mouth. She even licked it. Her tennis ball quickly got coated in ice and was extremely slippery and she was unable to hold it in her mouth without it moving, this she found very frustrating and exciting and only made her chase it more.

We both loved the snow that night.

The next morning was Sunday. I got up at around 10. I was instructed to stay in my pajamas and "act sick." My Grannee's Preacher was supposed to come over after church and pray for me. I would be allowed to get dressed when he left.

The Proud Man and The Young Uncle (the Young Cousin's dad) came over and helped us wait for the Preacher Man. We waited and waited for the guy. I showed my uncles my driver's permit and my debit card from my checking account (that I opened myself with my money). Mom got out pictures from my birthday party to show my uncles and my cousin. They hadn't seen Uncle BM or Cousin Gorilla for a long while so they enjoyed the pictures. There were also some pictures of Polly and Celine Dion in there because they came to my party too.

By the way, Polly, my Young Uncle thinks your a hottie and was wondering if you were single. He's a divorcee.

Sorry. I know he's cute, but Grannee told him that you were married to a big huge strong firefighter who could snap him in two if he wanted. However, Mom was quick to mention that you had a single sister.

I'm not really sure what time church was over, but when the clock turned 1 and we were all thinking, "Well, I guess he's not coming." or "Must have changed his mind." I was allowed to get dressed.

We were going to leave that day. We got ready and packed and then all went over to the Proud House to spend our last couple hours watching football and eating things. The Proud Woman gave me my birthday gift and we were all hanging out and just enjoying each other's company, when the Preacher walked in........

"End of Part 2"

The Indiana Surprise!

Dear Reader,

I know it has been a very long time since I last wrote, and I apologize for that. I have been really very busy. In fact, I have been so busy that I'm not going to be able to tell you everything I've been up to in one post. So, in order to fill you in, I'm going to have to use a very high tech method. I'm going to post all the events in parts and........ I'm going to time travel.

We will go back in time to the day of Thursday, December 17th, 2009. We spent all day finishing packing and getting ready to leave for Indiana. We had told as little people as humanly possible about this trip. We were going to surprise my grannee. Mom, Dad, Me, Brother, Piggy and Baby left the safety of our home that night at 10:00pm and started on the way to the little town of Francesville, Indiana, home of my grannee and my Proud Relatives.

We drove through the night. Brother and I spent nearly the whole trip sleeping. Mom called Grannee when we were about 20 miles away from her house.

-Please excuse the dialogue I am about to post as I could only really hear one end of this phone conversation-

"Hi Mom!"

"Hellooo." I imagine this was my Grannee's response, she usually does this in a very sing-song voice.

"They told me that my packages are going to arrive at your house sometime today."

"Well, I'm at the post office mailing your gifts right now, and there's nothing for me."

"Oh!" Says my mom, with a kind of smile on edge of giggle on her face mixed in with a kind of crazy 'Keep it under control or you'll get caught! You mischievous little girl!' look "You're at the post office? Well, that's weird, they told me that they would arrive today. Maybe they are going to come later."

"Maybe."

"Are you alright? You sound like you have a cold." This statement causes panic to arise in both me and my father. Brother however is completely absorbed in the book 'The Hunger Games' and wouldn't know it if you had cut off his left big toe.

"Are you alright? You sound {murmur, bumble, unintelligible noise}"

"Are you alright, Mom? You sound like you're sick."

"blah blah, goo-goo-gaa-gaa"

"Must be the connection. We must be in a bad spot. I'll talk to you later."

~Hang up~

Then Dad, ever the dramatic, starts to express that "If your Mom is sick! This whole trip was a waste of time." kind of talk. Mom says that they both had a hard time hearing each other and she wasn't sure what she was saying. I strongly stick with the, "It was a bad connection. They couldn't hear anything." story, and Brother is off in the Games fighting Cato in the arena.

Anyway we finally get there. I put on my mask in case Grannee is sick and we surprise her at her front door.

She didn't scream and cry like they do on TV, but I could tell by the dust rag in her hand and the stuff scattered around her house that she was not expecting us, and that we did indeed surprise her.

Now, Francesville is a very small town. It is like a step back in time there. All the neighbors know each other, and the kids run around the neighborhood and ride their bikes and things. You can walk to the store and the library and everywhere. Francesville is planted right in middle of a bunch of corn fields, hidden from the world.

People do not lock their doors. Strangers have only ever broke in to someone's house when they were home once before and the people that were home shot and killed the intruders before they could say who they were. Turns out the bad guys were a couple of dudes who had broken out of prison from Mississippi or something. Nobody cared really, everyone else in town would have done the same thing.

My aunt (The Proud Woman) and my uncle (The Proud Man) live on the opposite side of town as my Grannee. You can walk to their house really easily, even if you are on chemo. It is less than a mile away. We weren't at Grannee's house for 10 minutes before the whole Proud Family knew that we had arrived, but at least we surprised Grannee.

The next day was the family Christmas party at my other aunt's (The Oldest Aunt) house. She lives in a place called Knox. I don't know much about Knox except that it isn't a safe place to go walking and has a koo-klux clan. I couldn't go to the party because The Oldest Aunt has grandkids who go to day-care and have lots of nasty little-kid germs that I can't be around. I heard it was pretty fun though, and that The Oldest Aunt was very surprised and had a TV worthy reaction full of tears.

While everyone else was out partying, Dad, the girls (being Baby and Piggy), and I stayed at Grannee's house. She wasn't as sick as we thought, by the way. Dad didn't go to the party because he is super paranoid. Even in Francesville, which in my opinion is one of the safest places on Earth, Dad doesn't like the thought of leaving his precious darling (and only) daughter at home 'alone'.

Grannee doesn't have a TV and if Dad had gone to the party, I could have entertained myself with the laptop that St. Nicolette gave me. However, Dad didn't go to the party, and he wanted something to do too. He is a smart guy now that I think about it. He had this all planned out.

Ever since I got that 'MacBook Pro' he has been wanting to get his little gadget lusting fingers on it, but I have been guarding it like a mother bear guards her cub. He purposely didn't bring his own laptop so he would have to use mine if he wanted to use one, with the excuse of "Why bring another laptop? If we need to use on, we can use Miss E.'s she is bringing hers." Anyway, he used his 'I'm your sweet darling daddy dearest' powers and asked me if he could use my laptop to write an exercise program. How could I say no?

Daddy on my Laptop and Piggy

Now that he's used mine, he keeps trying to thing of things that would justify him getting himself one just like it. I wouldn't be surprised if his laptop mysteriously gets left in the rain or accidentally gets mistaken for a dark chocolate cake and gets baked in the oven or something.

End of Part 1

Introducing Matilda

Dear Reader,

I went to clinic today and they almost had my bra put back on. My creatinine (kidney function number) was 3.2. Which is really high and not good at all. I had been off my IV fluids for about a week and was on 1 gram of Ciprofloxacin everyday. I had only been taking 500mg of Cipro everyday because it is hard on kidneys. However, since House was my doctor when I was in patient and not my darling Patch, my kidney wasn't considered as much as it would have been normally.

However, Patch knew that I had been drinking and labeled the extra Cipro as the culprit the moment she saw the number. So, I'm not taking it anymore, ever. I'm going to start Penicillin tomorrow instead.

I was really surprised by my bad kidney number. I wasn't expecting it. I had been experiencing lack of energy lately, but I didn't think it was because of a high creatinine. I thought that it was because of lack of sleep or maybe a decrease in my prednisone amount (I went from 10mg alternating with 12mg daily a couple weeks ago). I was leaning more towards sleep deprivation.

I haven't been sleeping very well because my mind has been so packed full of stuff. I think about Iron Man everyday, and earlier this week I learned that my friend, Matilda, has relapsed too.

Matilda was my roommate a long time ago, she was only 4 years old then. I was 11 or 12. She's 7 now. When I met her she was the smartest kid I had ever met, next to myself, of course. You could tell by how she communicated with people, and other things too, I suppose. She was already starting to sound out letters and read. That's why I named her Matilda.

She was a great room mate and we quickly became friends. We had little parties together that included ice-cream, teeny tiny spoons, and popcorn? maybe it was something else. We also played Barbie Beauty Shop. A fun game that we made. One of the nurses had told us how she used to color Barbie's Hair and I thought "What a good idea!" So, we got our hands on some Barbies, and child life (the toy/activity people at the hospital) hooked us up with some washable markers. Our nurse brought us barf buckets and soap to wash Barbie's hair and nails, and then we dyed her hair and painted her nails with the marker. Some times she got small tattoo jobs as well.

It was a lot of fun.

I read about her relapse on facebook two nights ago. When I read about it, I went to Mom's room and told her right away, so she could pray for her. Then I went back to my room and I sat on the floor and cried for about 30 minutes.

I'm not one to say that kids should never get sick. I'm not one of those people who say, "Oh! How can this happen to a child!" or "These things shouldn't happen to children!" I am a child who's been sick for most of her memory, I know that children are humans, just like adults. And with being a human, you have the right to the imperfections of humanity, such as sickness. It doesn't mean that I want kids to get sick, it just means tha

t I don't think that is is wrong. It is just part of being human.

I knew this would probably happen to Matilda. Her kind of cancer keeps coming back until it takes you out. The longest a person has been known to life that has had her kind of cancer is twenty years. Having said that and thinking that at the time, still the only words my brain could come up with were, "Not her." I just didn't want it to be her…

I wanted her to be the one that didn't make any sense.

So that was keeping me up. Then I started to think about Iron Man. How all his doctors just keep saying, "Its not good." How all he could move from the waist down was his left ankle and some toes because his tumors have crushed the nerves in his spine. Might be paralyzed for life.

I was up until about 2:30 that night. Me and Mom met in the living room at about 1:30, she couldn't sleep either. Her thoughts were full of them too. She took an non-non-drowsy allergy pill and her, Baby, and I tried to get to sleep on the couch. Mom had to leave eventually because she's old and can't get comfy enough on the couch, but Baby and I stayed. Baby stayed with me until I fell asleep.

Dogs are cool like that.

Anyway, then next day was Thursday and I felt pretty lousy. I was in and out of bed until 2:30pm napping. Mom even canceled my home-bound school so I could recover, and I did. By that night I was fine.

Then today was my clinic day. Mom bumped into the Swain Princess with a blanket and a barf bucket in the hallway, she has the flu. Which is a serious thing for her. I got to visit with a bunch of Hawks after clinic, it was really fun. I had an especially nice time talking to the very talkative 4-year-old hawk-let.

When I got home I found out that Iron Man's doctor told him that he might only ever be able to move those few toes and his ankle on his left side, and he didn't like it. He worked and worked until his big toe on his RIGHT side moved. Just like a real Iron Man.

Happy Hanukah,

Miss E.

Excited, Line-less and a Loser

Dear Reader,

I'm home now. I arrived yesterday night. I am very excited, actually I don't know that excited is the word, but I am very happy and I guess a bit giddy. Well, it is like this....

I am a happy, jolly, jubilant kind of person most of the time. I think some people see it as kind of dorky.

For example, when I was in the 7th grade and I went to school I attended a school pep rally. They sat the middle school in the bleachers in 3 columns. If you faced the bleachers, the 8th grade was on the left, the 7th grade in the middle, and the 6th grade on the right. I went with my REACH class, and sat (of course) next to the teacher. My class occupied the very front row of the bleachers, and when I looked to my left I saw right across from me in the very front row of the 6th graders, my brother! So, of course I started to try to get his attention, and when we made eye-contact I smiled a super smile, shouted, "Hi!!!" and waved to him with great enthusiasm. He acknowledged my kind greeting by my making an "L" with his index finger and thumb and placing it upon his forehead.

Anyway, that feeling that caused me to smile and wave with such great enthusiasm is what I am feeling now. I guess that would be excitement, right? I don't know. I'm feeling this feeling because I am, for the first time in over 5 years, without any kind of line inside my body.

I have no port, no mid-line, no broviac, no IV, no nothing. There is no rubber or metal or anything inside me right now.

Its kind of like a bra. You start wearing one pretty early on, and you get really used to it. It becomes a necessity. The girls feel right when secured in a good bra. When you take off your bra, you feel a certain loose freedom, maybe a little exposed, like you couldn't go out in public. However, the feeling is also kind of nice and definitely one you could get used to. That is how I feel now, bra-less. Bra-less and excited.

And naughty.

I'm confused.

Dear Reader,

Yesterday House told me that the plan was for me to go home today. So, I might be going home today, but I might not be to. Nothing is set in stone for me really...

Anyway, the lab came into my room this morning at 6am to turn on my light and wake me up, oh and to draw my blood too. This lab lady did a little better though, she didn't use the super bright light and she used a nice voice. It is a big improvement from turning on all my lights and saying, "Its time to draw your labs!" with no effort at gentleness or quietness. She did a good job.

So I was up a bit early because of my lab draw. I went to use the facility after she left and when I got back in bed I thought I might like to check my email. So, I got out my iTouch that my #2 Fans got my for my birthday and went to town. The only new message was from facebook saying that I have a friend request from a girl I used to go to school with, so I got out of "mail" and went to facebook and accepted.

I was snooping around her facebook page, you know, checking it out. I hadn't seen the girl since two years ago in the 7th grade. I was reading her info, and well, it made me upset. So, that is why I'm on here and not sleeping.

In her info it basically tells her name, says she "took my first brath of polluted air in america" 14 years ago, currently lives in "this piece of crap they call a state, florida", and has a simple life that includes "guy troubles, parent troubles, sibling troubles..... the usual". I just found that upsetting.

After reading this, I turned off my toy and tried to go back to sleep, but was unsuccessful. I kept thinking about that girl and about Big Wig's son who is here on 2SW right now.

Big Wig is the mother of another transplant kid on the floor. Her son is older than me. She is code-named Big Wig because she likes big wigs and wants to wear them. Her son is here on the floor right now. He just got moved here from the ICU.

He got transplanted after me, so I'm farther post transplant than him. His donor was his brother though, and he was considerably farther along in recovery from his transplant than I was. He was already going and doing a lot of things, and had energy a lot of the time. He had two types of cancer before his BMT (bone marrow transplant). One was a solid tumor one and one was the kind that a BMT would cure.

I think I'll code-name him Iron Man. Last time he was in ICU he hadn't slept in so long, so they game him drugs to induce sleep. It made him have crazy dreams and apparently he was a contestant with his brother on an show where you compete to become the "iron man". Plus, I think he is really a real "iron man" of sorts, I mean he seems to have that air about him.

When we got to clinic the day I was admitted, Agent 99 asked us if we had talked to Big Wig recently. We said, "No. How is she? Is something wrong with Iron Man?" She told us that he was in the hospital, and we could ask Big Wig about it once we got here. Mom asked if it was good or not and by the way Agent 99 said, "No." you could tell that it wasn't.

Iron Man is on the floor now, they brought him up from the ICU a couple days ago. His solid tumors are back. They are on his spine and they are growing super duper fast. The medical professionals are saying that "It's not good." Its the kind of not good that has the nurses tearing up in the hallways and makes them go silent when you enter their area. The doctors told Big Wig that if they choose not to treat, they could send Iron Man home and he might have a month.

Iron Man can't walk anymore because of the tumors, but he is the Iron Man. Apparently he doesn't feel like giving up yet, he wasn't to fight. So, I'm not really all that worried about him. He's not going yet. People seem to know when it gets close to their time (especially kids) and Iron Man really doesn't seem to have that "Its my time." thing going on. My dad says (when he's having one of those "I'm the epitome of wisdom." moments) that you never die until you lose the will to live, and Iron Man seems to be far from losing that.

Anyway, so I was thinking about Iron Man and about that girl. If the air is so polluted and Florida is such a "piece of crap", then just... Well what is her problem?!?! What is wrong with people!?!?! Why can't they see the beauty in things, or be thankful or something? Why is everything in their lives so terrible and how come everything "sucks" or is "retarded"? Its not! And it just gets me.

One of the great things about being a human is the freedom. It's a big responsibility and all that, but we can make our own decisions and have that whole "free will" deal going on. She could leave anytime she wants to, and if it is so awful here, then why does she stay? You know what I'm saying? She doesn't have to live on earth if it is so polluted and poopish. She can leave if she really wants to, she has that choice. It would hurt those who love her, but if its so awful here and she would be happier somewhere else....

Iron Man doesn't think the air is dirty or the state is crappy, and people are telling him to pack his things and get ready to go......

I know I'm really strange in this area, I look at things totally different than most people, I know, but maybe you can understand. There is no doubt that Iron Man needs prayers, but in some ways he is a lot healthier than other people. I'll pray for them both, but I'm only worried about one.

Dr. House on Call

Dear Reader,

Guess where I am? The hospital! See? That's me on the left by the little Christmas tree on 2SW waiting to go into my room. You can tell the tree is little because I'm little, only 5 feet and an inch, and that tree isn't much taller than me.

I had to come here because a couple days ago I went to clinic because my mid-line was pinkish. You should remember this, it was only one post ago. Well, because of my pinkish line, Agent 99 drew blood cultures on me, and those cultures grew.

We don't really know what it is they are growing yet, but they will keep me here in the hospital until my cultures don't grow anything anymore. What ever it is growing is in the cocci family and has a gram positive rod, so it isn't the E. Coli I had last time I was infected with something. House took out my mid-line at clinic today because he suspected it was the source of the infection. It was 3 weeks old, mid-lines usually only last about 2 weeks, so it was time for it to go anyway.

House has to have everything his way. He's such a poop stain sometimes. When he arrived to my room at clinic, my lunch had just came. I pretty much always get a cheese-burger no bun, french fries, peas, and lots of ketchup for my clinic meal. French fries taste awful cold. So I really wanted to get back to lunch ASAP and I don't really like House being my doctor because he doesn't know me and has the social graces of that one teacher you had in high school. You know the one.

Anyway, House is hurrying to get the examination done so I can go back to eating. He has gained some amount of respect for me over the years, but he's still House. I'm thinking we are just about done when he says, "Let's see that line now." House says everything in a real loud, announcement/command voice. I think he's hard of hearing, but I'm not sure. You always have to look at him when you talk though, like you would with a deaf person.

I know he's talking about my mid-line so I tell him, "You can't. We covered it up." Which is true, we did re-dress it and the site was covered. "Well that doesn't matter, we are taking it out."

"What? Now?"

"Yes"

"Why? Can't we wait for Agent 99 to come back?"

"No, because Patch and Dr. Huxtable are not here and I'm the only working and I'm already trying to be 3 places at once."

House always tries to make it sound like he's is the savior of the universe, but I know better, and I can take care of myself just fine. I don't need him for anything. So I tell him,

"Well, you can go then and when Agent 99 comes back, she and I can take it out without you."

"No, I want to see it. We are doing it now."

Fine! I think.

"Do you want adhesive remover?" House asks.

"Yes." I reply.

So we get the adhesive remover and go to work. I ask Mom to come over and help, and I lift a corner of the tape and Mom gets to rubbing the remover on. I wince as I feel my hairs being slowly ripped from their follicles that were buried in my flesh (they may have come out with the tape and not be there anymore), but I don't say anything or utter any noise. House takes care of the problem though...

"Look, honey. Watch." and he shoos Mom hands away, which makes me start to voice argument. I do not want his help I want Mom with her gentle hands. Mom who sees my wincing and feels an ounce of pity for it. House cares what I want to a point, but not that much.

He proceeds to rub the remover on top of the tape. Mom is intrigued and watches as he explains, "The remover will soak through the tape and it won't be sticky anymore." I'm still a bit annoyed and don't really believe this will work, but okay. I'm still up for giving it a try until House says, "See, honey I may not be as smart as you, but I have more experience." Ugh! That ticked me. More experience? Oh I'm about as sure House has more experience with needles taped to his skin as I am that Obama is secretly an albino conservative woman.

See, its just the way House says things, he is so clueless. Mom only seems to see the compliment in what he said though and points it out to me later, so I am able to forgive him.

Anyway, we continue with the tape removal, which is usually the worst part, but the tape comes right off. So, House was right about the tape coming off, which only makes me more upset. We almost have the tape off and House gets a big head. Agent 99 is in the room by now, so I'm a bit more calm. This is a very good thing because then House says, "Now the secret is to pull the tape straight up." and with the gentleness of a rabid Velociraptor he takes the tape and yanks it the opposite direction that the mid-line was going in, taking about an inch of the line out as he does so!

My mouth (and Mom's too) is shaped in a large O and I can hear noise coming out of it because it freaked me out so much. I think I was gasping. However, House doesn't seem to hear me or my mother and covers up his pause of shock by taking out the rest of the line.

Once it's out, he turns to look at my arm and says, "Where was it? Was it there?" There is this big hole in my arm from that line and he asks, "Where was it?" Could there be a stupider question coming from this doctor who knows everything? I think not, so I give him a look worth of his question. I spy Agent 99's eyes filled with silent laughter at my expression and I change it to a smile as Mom answers his question with a "Yes."

Turns out my insertion area wasn't all that red after all. Oh well. Now I have a new IV to take its place, courtesy of Agent 99.

The bruise isn't her doing. That is because of my ITP, which causes my anti-bodies to target my platelets, thus making me very bruise-able. Isn't it beautiful?

I'm the top Dog!

Dear Reader,

I know its been super long since I last wrote. I'm sorry about that. I have lots to tell you.

Firstly, I didn't exactly get to have a sleepover on Friday. Judge had a fever and since Sleeping Beauty was exposed, she couldn't come either. It was okay though because my other cousins, who are also my neighbors came, and Brother shared his friends with me. So there were 5 kids, plus Brother and me and the fire/campout.

Our neighbors had to leave pretty early on because they had a big day the next day (one of them was turning 16), but we had a great time with them whi

le they were visiting.

Jupiter, Brother and Brother's friend who's a girl and I watched Taken. It was over at like 1:30 in the morning.

I didn't get to talk to the girl very much because we were both so very tired by the time we finally got to bed. So, unfortunately for her, she does not get a code-name.

The next day, Brothers friends (in the picture on the left, Brother is in the middle with friends on either side) all went home at around noonish. That is what happened Friday and Saturday. Now I'm going to fly through the week so you can get to the recent exciting events that have been happening in my life.

Yesterday I went to clinic. I had to go early because we were changing the dressing on my mid-line and we thought it looked a little red around the site. Of course, paranoid Patch had to take a look at it. So we made an appointment to go tomorrow, which turned out to be today's yesterday.

It didn't look bad enough for her to be very concerned, and I figured that she just missed me. I got IVIG and Agent 99 drew my blood. My creatinine was 2.4, so it had gone up. It still wasn't very high for me though, and I hadn't done any IV fluids the night before. So, the plan is to go today with no IV fluids, drink a lot, and get my blood work done at the local lab tomorrow. If the creatinine has gone up, resume the fluids, if it has gone down, I get to discontinue the fluids. It will be my first time since transplant that I've really been without fluids. It would be a BIG DEAL if it gets to happen.

If my creatinine is good tomorrow, Mom and I will remove my mid-line by ourselves. This line goes 20cm long in my arm, so it will take a while to pull out and should be quite a site to see. Combine that with all the bleeding I will do because of my low platelets and it will a great show!

And speaking of great shows, my dog video is done! It is awesome too! I'm the voice of Resi, the therapy dog, in the hospital's moving day video. You can watch it if you like, right HERE. Remember, CatWoman was behind the production of this video, so she snuck a couple cats in it. See if you can find them.

I hope you had a great Thanksgiving and will have a great Christmas!

Miss E.