Hi,

Once again I am Florida. My kind sister Maribeth and her husband Chuck invited me down to spend Easter with them and even let me stay after they went home. My good friend Ker drove over from her vacation in Vero Beach to spend the weekend with me here in Naples. As always, she cheered me up, put a smile on my face and made me laugh until my stomach hurt. There is nothing like spending time with an old friend to make you feel better. I am so fortunate to know her and was sad to see her go. But it is time for me to go home as well. I have so enjoyed my time here even though I cannot be in the sun or swim in a pool yet. Just seeing the sun shine every day, hearing the ocean as I go to sleep and again first thing in the morning has been so nice.
 
Now it is back to reality and back to my old routine at the hospital in Chicago. I am back on my pre-transplant regimen where I get an IV of a bone strengthening drug once a month. It usually leaves me feeling a little flu like for about 48 hours, although when I had the treatment the first time after the transplant, it hit me pretty hard and I was in bed for a week. Last month was better and I'm assuming next week will be back to the two-day achiness that I'm used to. So used to in fact, I forget that this is not the norm. As I was on my way to the hospital last month in a cab, the driver, who was about my age, wondered if I worked there. When I told him that I didn't and why I was going there, he was stunned. He asked me so many questions but was mainly fixated on the fact that I was alone and able to talk so casually about it all. I explained to him that, like it or not, this is my life and I'm just doing what I have to do. As we pulled up to the entrance to the hospital, he turned around with tears in his eyes and asked me if I would like him to park and come in with me. I declined, thanked him and handed him my money. But he refused to take it. He said he could not take money from me; that giving me a free ride was at least something he could do for me. He did so much more than give me a free ride that day. He reminded me that it doesn't matter what race we are, what our profession is, what age we are, what our religious beliefs are, where we are from or how much money we have or don't have; compassion is universal. A small, simple gesture, whether towards a stranger or a friend, makes a huge difference. At least it does to me.
 
Love,
 
Jen