hospital and waiting for transplant

James is still in the hospital, but he looks a lot better, doesn't he? He feels ready for discharge (and has had his mind set on discharge since early this week), but it seems as though a few more nights won't make a significant difference after such an extended admission. I also scored myself a hospital grade cot to keep him company at night. We both felt a sense of calm waking up next to each other this morning. Nearness brings comfort and security.

We keep ourselves busy on the computer, linking between articles and forums, watching ridiculous videos, and more serious online documentaries. We draw together (on occasion) and read out loud to each other before bed. We listen to our favourite podcasts and allow ourselves to drift into a restless sleep (preparing ourselves for the next interruption).  

It is hard to believe that we have only been on the transplant list for two months (and in Toronto for four months). The wait seems unbearably long, and to some extent, a lot longer than during James' first transplant process. Perhaps, it is the on-going need to re-frame our thoughts and feelings with the constant changes in James' health status. James is a lot more fragile. We also no longer have an illusion of transplant as a cure. We recognize on a very deep level that transplant is the exchange of one set of problems with another. We are prepared to go through the process again, and it is worth every day that James is still alive and breathing. We simultaneously work towards a future together and focus on making it through each and every day with as much optimism as possible. Some days are a lot harder than others, but James and I share a determination to get through this together. We long for that post-transplant glow; it is that feeling that anything in the world is possible. We hold out for hope that we will be on the other side again.