Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Happy Birthday, Bone Marrow

Today at approximately 11:30 AM, my bone marrow turns four years old. She’s been excited about this for days. And to answer your question, yes my bone marrow is a she, and no, that doesn’t make me a transsexual or anything (…not that there’s anything wrong with that). My donor just happened to be the stem cells of a newborn baby girl’s umbilical cord.
Baby and umbilical cord My bone marrow is such a smart little girl. She taught herself how to write and do advanced Calculus. I think she’s one of those bone marrow prodigies.

Last month she made out her birthday list. Here is what she asked for:

1. DVD box set of the children’s show Bob the Builder

At first I was glad she wanted to learn how to build shit, but all she does is watch the introductory song over and over again. She better think again if she thinks I’m going to waste my money on something she’ll barely use. Plus that damn song drives me crazy.

2. A new doll collection and a pink dollhouse

This is where I put my foot down. No bone marrow of mine is going to play with dolls. And does it really have to be pink? When I told her I found a camouflage dollhouse on sale, she temporarily stopped making my platelets. Bone marrow and her temper tantrums.

Fortunately, I still have some old Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles she can play with. Of course, the last time I tried to get her to play with them she ripped Michelangelo’s head off. Poor bastard.

3. Hello Kitty cell phone, purse, necklace and watch
Let me first say that although my bone marrow knows Calculus, she doesn’t know how to tell time. So what the hell does she want a watch for? And a cell phone and purse? It’s not like she has any money, and let’s be honest, she doesn’t have any friends either. I don’t let her play with the other bone marrows. That’s just gross.

4. Complete tea set

We’re not British. We’re Americans, and we like energy drinks. I suppose I could buy her the little cups but fill them with Red Bull. She wouldn’t even know the difference.

It looks like this is going to be another year filled with little girl activities. All I want is for her to learn golf and make me money. Is that too much to ask? Last year I bought her a putting green and miniature putter, but all she did was hit me and complain that I don’t listen to her. Blah blah blah.

At the very least couldn’t she learn how to play basketball? To be fair I did buy her a Fisher-Price indoor hoop and she actually liked it. I got a little excited one afternoon and did a reverse dunk. It kind of broke in half. She got kind of pissed, and now says she’ll never play again. I was just trying to be Kobe, she should understand.

My bone marrow is really getting excited about preschool next year. She wanted to go last year but I wouldn’t let her because I thought I’d be bored without her. Instead I listened to Bob the Builder. Huge mistake.

I already warned her about bullies. We even practiced some self-defense maneuvers, just in case. At first I wanted to teach her karate, but quickly realized I don’t know how. Come to think of it, I don’t know how to do anything. Mainly I just taught her the traditional moves – ball kicking, hair pulling and eye gouging. In order to perfect the techniques, I showed her a vintage video of The Bushwhackers.

Happy Birthday, sweetie!


Postscript: Some cancer survivors celebrate their diagnosis; I celebrate the freedom. Today really is four years since my bone marrow transplant and I certainly plan on celebrating. This, as well as my other freedom day, have become holidays. This holiday is titled BM B-Day 4, short for Bone Marrow Birthday 4.

I don’t want to jinx anything so I won’t spell it out, but I think you’re all aware of the significance of 5 years. The countdown begins.


Anonymous said...

Happy Birthday, Baby.

Anonymous said...

hey giiiiiiiiiirl,
sto lat sto lat nieg ge ege enam, sto lat sto lat nieg ge ege enam, yeshtadas, yeshtadas, nieg ge ege enam, nieeeeeg geeee enaaaam...my phoenetic spelling of a polish happy birthday, or more literally hope you live 100 years...cheers mole!

vanishingword said...

Maybe your bone marrow would like a hammer instead of all the girly stuff. If I was your bone marrow I'd be pissed!:)