Before I was able to start my transplant, I had to do a little something called Consent. I did it four times. Four times today, I put pen to paper and scribbled something that is supposed to read Emma Jane Jones and next to that, I wrote my signature. Sorry, I know my status, my autograph. Many, many more times than that, I had to listen to Medically Trained People tell me about what is going to happen to me, what I have to do and what the risks are. I estimate that between 08:45hrs-15:00hrs, I had 30 minutes where I was taking in all this information, and then agreeing that it could happen. After six months of waiting, planning and uncertainty, it is happening and it is now for certain. We have dotted the I’s and crossed the T’s.
It may have been a paper exercise, but until I was seen by a doctor today and examined, and then signed to say I was happy for it to go ahead, my transplant was not formalised. That said, I had already consented to my PICC line two hours earlier and had it implanted. In between that, I listened to somebody tell me about a study, I said I would be part of it, answered a questionnaire and used an orange pen. The last one was not too strenuous, I simply checked into the hotel. So, I was fairly confident. There was a split second whilst I was talking to the Senior Medically Trained Person who was not dressed in grey FYI, when I panicked after saying that I had been suffering from hay fever. That required more questions, and me metaphorically, crossing my legs.
The communication is good I suppose, better too much than too little, and half of the talk was from people not directly involved with my care current care asking me how I was. That’s just me, Emma Jane Jones, twenty fourth of the fifth, nineteen eighty four on this day, the sixteenth of July, I am friendly.
I do feel like my brain is saturated. I knew the majority of what I was told today, but still my brain is saturated. I feel like I have experienced so much and it is only day one. Take that worldwide travelling; this is living.
Also, the fact that I had to provide my autograph to get my autograft, amused me greatly. It did not amuse Big Sister who looked at my like I had just exposed a nipple covered in cream at a wake. Oh well. The Autograft has commenced.
Tomorrow, stem cells.