Scene of The Crime

I kind of skipped over my feelings about going back to Seattle in my previous post. The truth is it is all very heavy on my heart. I am anxious for my BMB results. I am anxious about what kind of year two they have planned for me. I am anxious that year two may not be that much more restrictive than the last.

It really feels like going back to the scene of the crime. I have been thinking about what my day was like a year ago constantly for the last several weeks. What tests was I doing? What news was I receiving? How was I holding up? How crazy was I driving my family and friends?

A year ago was the hardest time in my life, ever. I have not reached a point of not recalling so vividly how unpleasant it was. I have yet to share the nitty-gritty of transplant. I suppose I have not been ready. But I will be someday.

This is also why I could never stay at The Pete Gross House again. And why I can't stay at the new long-term follow-up housing facility. I just can't be immersed in it 24 hours a day. They offer short-term housing for people who are back for their anniversary follow-ups. But I can't see it, feel it, smell it, and be in it again. Ever.