Redux

I generally don’t subject readers to a “journal of my life” but in this case I’m going to make an exception.

They say that you never get a second chance to make a first impression.  And if playing golf with a friendly foursome, you might be able to cajole a mulligan.  These examples are instances where the desire exists to turn back the clock ever-so-slightly and right a wrong.  My body is also getting the chance to override a rare fluke which triggered my cancer (a single, genetic cell-division misfiring among the billions and billions successfully performed in a lifetime).

Tomorrow I will go through a painless procedure called an autologous stem cell transplant where my own recently-harvested stem cells will be transfused back into my system to basically build a new set of red blood cells (carry oxygen); white blood cells (fight infection); and platelets (control bleeding) - in my bone marrow.  This is not at all intended to be a science lesson (there will be NO quiz), but rather a treatise on second chances.  Because in essence my body is getting a second chance.

So when the process is over, I will literally be a new person.  The plan is that I will be a healthier one.  And who knows, maybe I might even be a better one as well.