Dec. 5 - Approaching the "End of the Line"

On November 25th, an oral surgeon exclaimed "You can't get a bone marrow transplant with this infection in your mouth!" I had a problem with a tooth roughly three years ago. Anti-biotics didn't help, but when the pain eventually subsided, I forgot about it. Now, this hidden infection deeply concerns me as I sit in the oral surgeon's office discussing my options. The tooth, he says, can easily be saved. But I think to myself, "Do I want to save the tooth or do I want to save my life?" That was an easy decision. I told him to just yank it. I don't want that tooth and the hidden infection to be the cause of my death during the transplant process. Then, I wondered, why in the world would he even discuss saving the tooth when my life is on the line?

Ever since that day, I have had numerous second thoughts and many sleepless nights about the upcoming transplant. Last Wednesday, I learned that a recent cat scan picked up the cyst in my mouth, but the doctor reviewing the scan failed to notice the anomaly or forgot to note it. All of the blood and urine tests didn't pick up the mouth infection. Yet this infection, now removed, had the potential to kill me. It's a little bit scary.

Last night, as I lay on the couch, I had an unusual dream: I was sitting in a train when I heard the conductor's voice say that it was the end of the line. As I exited the train, I saw two tunnels each with a sign at the top noting their respective destinations. One tunnel had a destination marked "Imminent Death." The other tunnel had the destination called "Slight Hope." At first, it seemed clear that the only viable option was to take the tunnel marked "Slight Hope." So, I walked down that darkened tunnel until I boarded the next train out of the station. The first stop on this train was called "Pain & Suffering." The next was called "Isolation." The next stop was called "Unemployment" followed by "Bankruptcy" and "Emotional Havoc." The next few stops were a blur, but one of them was marked "Medical Center." It was a long, awful, dark ride. I never saw the light of day. Finally, I heard the conductor say "we are approaching to the end of the line." I was delighted to get off, but then I approached two dark tunnels with those familiar signs. One was marked "Slight Hope" and the other was marked "Imminent Death." "Oh no," I thought. Did I relapse? This time, I stood in the train station a long, long time and pondered which train to board. That's when I woke up.

Still, I can see the two signs: "Imminent Death" and "Slight Hope." Still, I don't know which train to board.