Last Saturday, Julia and I went out for dinner and saw a movie. Doesn’t sound like much, but it was the first time that the two of us did that in over three months. We went to a 5PM movie and then 7:30 dinner reservation. It wasn’t a great deal of work, but as soon as we got home, I stretched out on the couch and fell asleep. Good lord, I will soon be hitting the 4 PM early dinner specials that they have out here and in Florida for the retirement crowd.
That is, of course, when I actually wonder away from the house. Aside from going to the boys’ baseball games, I haven’t really wandered very far from home. I go to work and come home during the week. I sit in front of the TV on the weekends. I am becoming a recluse. If I don’t watch it, I won’t clip my fingernails like Howard Hughes did. I already have become a germaphobic like Hughes. Too bad I missed the money part of the equation.
I used to go out and buy clothes for Julia for no reason, but I can’t remember the last time I even went to a mall without the family with me. I don’t think it is a symptom of the disease, but I have gotten to the point where if it isn’t in Chandler, I’m not going (except for the 10,000 trips to Scottsdale for various doctor appointments.)
What really scares me is what I will be like after the transplant. I’ve already been referred to as “bubble boy.” When the doctor tells you that he doesn’t want you around people at work for three months, it makes you think. Too bad they don’t have a device that can check your blood like the insulin testers that diabetes patients utilize. I could check my blood every day to see if I was healthy enough to venture away from the house. Maybe Michael Jackson and I can hang out.
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