When I Die [Wattys 2016]

Chapter 21: The Transplant

13 days before Christmas, we were ready.
Dr. Ballard came in and told me one last time what he'd already told me. The stem cell transplant would render further chemotherapy practically useless. And if I went forth with chemo, it would render the stem cell transplant useless. Basically, this was the last and only shot. Sam seemed to be in good spirits. He came to visit a few times with mom, which was new. I think he felt a part of it all now.

He sat beside me the night before, silently at first. My mom had left us alone to go home for a while and get more clothes. Some stupid movie was on Comedy Central and we just sat there, blankly. Suddenly, he grabbed the remote and turned it off. His eyes met mine.
"Leo, can I tell you something? I...really hope this works." He said.
I could tell he'd been thinking about it a lot. I didn't say anything at first, I was trying to register his emotions. He looked sad and afraid. All of a sudden, the tall, brooding fourteen year old in front of me was dissolved into the small eight year old boy who had been my best friend. I took a deep breath and sighed.
"Sam, this is a bigger shot than I had before. Thank you, either way, thank you, for giving me this chance. It might not work, but without it I'd definitely die, so at least I have a shot." I took a second, and then added, "If it doesn't work, I want you to know something... it's not your fault. I know you might scoff at that now, you might think that's a dumb thing to say, but if it doesn't work, I want you to know that, okay?"

He nodded, looking down at his hands. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry I'm such an asshole all the time," he said.
I turned back to him, amused.
"You're just fourteen," I said, "everyone is an ass hole at fourteen."
He laughed, and so did I.
"I just don't want something to happen to you... Without me telling you that. I love you, Leo, and I hope you know that, you're still my best friend."
He looked at his feet, and then at me. Tears threatened to flow, but I fought them back. It wasn't so much that I was very sentimental, but I realized that he was scared for me. When I die, he doesn't. He has to go to my funeral. He has to clean out my room. He has to do all of these things that I'll be gone for. I imagined him, still young, at such a vulnerable age, wrapping his arms around our mom. I imagined him taking her meals when she didn't get up. I imagined him not getting up some days. I was a ticking time bomb, I thought. I imagined if the roles were reversed, if I were the one afraid of burying him, not knowing the outcome.
We talked until late that night, and it felt like old times, before he hated everyone and everything. Before I was so self-involved. He was my only shot at life. I really, really hoped it would work, if for nothing else but to protect him.

That night, I pressed RECORD again, and I recorded a thank you for Sam.

"Sam, tomorrow is our big day. Nine am, they're putting your stem cells into my body. There's no telling if it will work, but I want you to know again that I am grateful for you. I appreciate you, so much. I hope I get to show you this, one day, but if you're watching it after I'm gone, well, just know that I love you and I'm glad that a part of you is with me still."

The next day, my family gathered around us. Sam, Aaron, Lara, Hattie, mom and dad, they all gathered around. Sam had given his stem cells earlier, so he sat. My mom squeezed my dad's hand, and he held onto Sam's shoulder. My dad had told me earlier that he loved me, and that he hoped I knew that. I told him of course I did. Aaron led us in a prayer, where he asked God to heal me. He asked for God to reach down and put his hands on me and breathe life back into me. He teared up a little, when he said, "he has so many people who love him, Lord..."

The nurses came in and prepared my chest for the procedure. I was weary and sore, laying forward against a stack of pillows, as they hooked me up to receive the life. The tubes connected and the nurse held the stem cell syringe, pumping them in. I closed my eyes. My mom, dad, Sam, Hattie, Lara and Aaron all held hands around me, they watched, and they were silent. All the love I held in my life surrounded me in that tiny room.

My mom was praying, I could tell. My dad was looking at his feet. This was my last shot. We all knew it.

About an hour in, my head started pounding and I felt quite a bit sick. The nurses assured me this was normal. The time passed slowly, it dragged on and on. We were quiet almost the entire time, confronted with the reality that this was it. When this was over, there was nothing left to do.

The transplant took almost six hours, and I slept through most of it. I didn't know what else to do. My family was remarkable. Each one of them, just watching the life drip into me. We all hoped the same thing, and we each wanted it so badly. I wondered if God listened to prayer when it happened in groups? Did he give out wishes based on popular demand?

That evening, after the transplant was over, nurses were constantly monitoring me making sure I didn't have a fever or any sudden changes. They monitored me like I was Little Leo.
Angela was on duty that night and I was so glad. I told her to give it to me straight, and she told me that, frankly, I was going to feel like absolute shit for about a month. I was pretty apprehensive, because I thought I'd already felt like shit before. I wasn't sure I was ready for what was about to happen to me. I felt like I was too weak to be in pain.

In the days following the transplant, I grew weaker and weaker. I was barely able to stay awake for an hour at a time. My mom ran cold rags on my face and it was the closest to Heaven that I could imagine right then.

Myra and Reid came to visit a few days after the transplant, against my mom's wishes. I told her to please let them in, for me. They were told to sanitize, I was on "contact precaution". I was on sanitized and filtered oxygen. My body was frail and weak.

They both sat down, in their face masks and cover up gowns.
"Hey Leo," Reid said, sitting on a chair. And Myra stood beside me. They were also wearing big blue latex gloves.
"Hey guys," I breathed out. The oxygen machine was loud, overpoweringly so. I had to spend even more energy to speak over it.
"How are you feeling?" Reid asked.
"I'm... Okay, I think," I said. "Just weak. Really, really... weak," I gasped.

Reid placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed a bit. Myra leaned in and gave me a gentle hug. I could tell by the look they gave each other that I was really bad. But then again, I already knew that. I hadn't looked in a mirror though, and I didn't want to. I wanted to make sure I was ready to see myself in this state before I did it.

Reid looked at me and said, "We love you man, you know that right?" He mumbled through his mask. I nodded and smiled as much as I could. My eyes were getting hard to keep open. I was holding them closed for longer and longer. At first, a few seconds, then more seconds, then for a minute. And then...

When I woke up, it was morning. Reid and Myra were gone. Because it was morning, it was time for my daily wait for blood tests. Usually they'd come in early in the morning to draw blood so they could test it, and tell me if my healthy cells from Sam were reproducing. Every morning I'd sit with the nerve wracking anticipation of the results, which would usually come around noon. And every single day, I was growing more and more discouraged.
"Not yet." Was a popular answer, it was the easiest thing to say, almost a cop out. It wasn't definitive, it wasn't definitely not going to happen, but it wasn't currently happening. We just needed to wait, they reminded me.

And so we did.