Admission

and another day that seems to drag on forever. To get admitted to the hospital (in this case, UCSF) one has to first show up at the clinic where blood is checked, vital signs are taken, a provider is seen. Then over to the actual hospital where the admission paperwork is completed. Then the idiots wanted, apparently, another chest x-ray. I am not sure what they expect to find considering that he had a CT last week.

And then waiting for a room. At least with a different view than before.  Looking north toward Marin, east toward downtown, down to Parnassus Avenue busy with traffic, buses and pedestrians.

The plan is for a second attempt at a bone marrow transplant. College Guy (aka Noah) will be back in town tomorrow. Sunday he checks in at the clinic and to begin a series of bone marrow/stem cell stimulating shots. If everything goes as planned, he will head back to San Diego next Saturday.

Walking on to the ward in the early afternoon, I am not sure if it is a good thing or not to recognize a fair number of the nursing staff. The good thing for me is avoiding the mind numbing drive to San Francisco and back on what was rapidly becoming a daily basis. Starting this coming week (due to the generosity of a friend) I will be camped out again in a guest room in the outer Sunset district and traveling back and forth on the N-Judah.

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About Holly

fiber person - knitter, spinner, weaver who spent 33 years being a military officer to fund the above. And home. And family. Sewing and quilting projects are also in the stash. After living again in Heidelberg after retiring (finally) from the U.S. Army May 2011, we moved to the US ~ Dec 2015. Something about being over 65 and access to health care. It also might have had to do with finding a buyer for our house. Allegedly this will provide me a home base in the same country as our four adult children, all of whom I adore, so that I can drive them totally insane. Considerations of time to knit down the stash…(right, and if you believe that…) and spin and .... There is now actually enough time to do a bit of consulting, editing. Even more amazing - we have only one household again. As long as everyone understands that I still, 40 years into our marriage, don't do kitchens or bathrooms. For that matter, not being a golden retriever, I don't do slippers or newspapers either. I don’t miss either the military or full-time clinical practice. Limiting my public health/travel med/consulting and lecturing to “when I feel like it” has let me happily spend my pension cruising, stash enhancing (oops), arguing with the DH about where we are going to travel next and book buying. Life is good!
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