Here I am in Seattle, nestled into temporary patient housing while I wait for a spot in the long-term building. It is the difference between a nice, sterile hotel room and a nice, sterile one-bedroom apartment. I'm looking forward to having a proper kitchen en suite; cooking (so long as I have energy and am not nauseated) is stress-reducing for me. Still, this certainly beats the Ramada down the street given the DVD library, high level of hygiene, and the overall comfort.
Today was a challenge. We came up from Mom's place in Castle Rock in the morning and got started immediately upon arrival. Blood draws, exams, interviews, waiting rooms, and working out my still-unsorted housing/Medicaid situation. My painkillers had a hard time keeping up and by about 5:30 it was clear I was well past my threshold for activity. The emotional roller coaster I have been riding for the last eighteen months ramped up today, pitching me into waves of fear, excitement, relief, frustration, and anxiety. It's almost ten o'clock and I should be trying to sleep, but I have been in bed for hours just enjoying the evening with my brother-doner (as the hospital folks call T) and my lovely fiancé in front of the TV. It has been the most normal, relaxing thing I could ask for right now.
I have so much to say right now, but lack the energy needed to do so. I have a break from the madness this weekend, including a stretch on my own while Mom returns R and T to the Portland area and gets her long-term stay bag together. I will use some of that time to park myself in a cafe somewhere to write and knit and get a cappuccino in me. Expect a good few updates to come out of that time.
Until then, I have to humble myself a bit and post a link to my Paypal account, just in case anyone wants to help my family and I stay afloat. Living temporarily in Seattle is going to be an expensive endeavor, even if I can get assistance for most of my housing costs. Administrative fees, parking, gas, food, incidentals, and yet unaccounted-for expenses are already starting to accumulate and are going to stretch us very, very thin. I certainly don't expect anyone to donate to the cause, but I have had a few people ask if they could and I think the best way for me to accept that help is to just slap a "donate" button on a few blog posts. In the event there are leftover funds once all bills and fees are settled, they will go toward our modest wedding next year and/or updating the barely-working video game system for the pediatric patients/children of patients in the transplant clinic waiting room.
If you'd like to help but don't feel financial assistance is appropriate for you (which my family and I totally understand, not being particularly flush ourselves), my spirits will be certainly lifted by postcards, letters, and the like. I don't have an address here yet, but you can send them to my apartment in Portland or give them to R to bring to me. Please message either of us via email, text, or Facebook for that address.
Time to sleep. I love you all.