Remind me to never drink coffee after 7 pm again for the rest of my life. I'll stick with vodka.
Clearly that was a joke. It's 2am. I'm allowed to say that.
Pre-transplant I could down 4 cups and then sleep like an infant that actually sleeps throughout the night (seriously where did the expression "sleep like a baby" come from? We all know they are up every 5 seconds, while the parents are mistaken for the cast of the walking dead ).
It's so weird to lay here in the dark, knowing that everyone else (with the exception of shift workers and fun party people) are in lalafreakingland while you desperately think of every possible thing to put yourself to sleep.
These new drugs are wacky. They mess with you.
In many ways.
Not being able to sleep also makes me think of all the things I should be doing with my new chunkers. I should be pushing myself more. Hitting the gym more.
Appreciating the small stuff more.
I'm always scared that I'll start taking this new life for granted. I never want to do that. I always want to remember why I'm still here and how lucky I am to still be here.
How do I honour my donor?
Perhaps I start by looking at my scar every day and remembering that a stranger gave me a new life.
I'm walking around because of someone else. I'm laughing, crying, singing, playing with the G-man, missing my friends and family and soon going home to them - all because of a stranger.
Or, even more convienent, glance down at the hawt medic alert bracelet that adorns my right wrist. Turn it over, read the chapter book on the back, and let it wash over me what actually happened 2.5 months ago.
For that matter, realize that because of a stranger I'm laying here at 2am unable to sleep, but able to spew my thoughts to whomever finds them interesting, or at least entertaining
Thank you stranger.
I should likely give you a name.