From today's @humansofny. (If you don't already follow this amazing daily collection of stories, you should.) γ»γ»γ» βBefore my bone marrow transplant, I had to have my immune system completely wiped out with chemotherapy. I went into the hospital thinking that I was going to do a lot of reading and watch old movies and catch up on work. One thing that I didnβt fully anticipate was the isolation that Iβd feel. I knew Iβd be physically isolated. The doctors and nurses wore masks so all I could see were their eyes. And nobody touched me unless they were administering medicine. But the pain and weakness brought me to a place where I felt completely alone. I got so weak that I couldnβt even formulate a thought. I dropped to 115 lbs. The pain got so bad that I felt like Iβd swallowed a blowtorch. At one point I actually gave up. I made everyone leave my room, even my partner, and I started slipping away. I hallucinated my motherβs voice calling my name. I heard it very distinctly. But when I opened my eyes-- it was my nurse Jenny that was calling me. At the point of my greatest isolation, it was almost as if my mother used Jennyβs voice to call me back.β
