Sent: Saturday, October 23, 1999 9:11 AM
Subject: T+2, Hello there again

I just had about 7 hours sleep, as continuous as possible, and feel great.  I 
sort of crashed yesterday, due to either a whole slew of new potions, pills, 
drips, etc., or, just as likely, the fact that I had had about 9 hours sleep 
over the last 5 days or so.  These alien body takeovers do make you too 
excited to sleep.  I think this should be more on track now, but they are 
giving me new drugs to deal with the transplant, and there can always be 
unknown side-effects.  It is funny to watch the tv commercials for the 
various drugs where they warn people about potential drug interactions.  Then 
a nurse comes into my room with a little cup of 7 different pills that even I 
have gotten tired of keeping track of names, what they do, etc., while I have 
drips from three different bags coming directly from robbie to my heart 
veins.  The standard words from the docs is that there are possibilities of 
side effects from anything they give me, from benadryl to chemo to blood 
products, but that the chances are slight.  I have had continuous reactions 
of feeling flushed, that is, having hot feeling and red looking skin, from 
the cyclosporan, the anti-rejection juice that is dripped in 12 hours each 
day for the next several weeks.  This is perfectly acceptable, no big deal. 

Last afternoon I got about an hour's nap before being interrupted for a drug 
connection and vitals check.   Actually, I fell asleep during Jeopardy, which 
shows how tired I really was.  They must have woken me up during rem or 
something, you know, just the wrong time.  I was real spacey for a few hours. 
 Got up, ate some dinner, had some visitors, and then got a good nights 
sleep.  All is well.  I did feel strange during that period, so strange that 
if I had been in the civilian world I probably would have rushed myself to an 
emergency room.  Nothing specific, just weird all over.  Here, it was no big 
deal, and given the fact that I was being constantly monitored by the 
wonderful staff and, especially, that I feel so incredibly better than I 
figured I would by this point, I just told funny stories to my company for a 
few hours, and lived with it.  Life is sweet.  Just in case any of you think 
that my stories of having a good time here are just for show, just to make 
you all feel better, send an email to jay burch, Jay_Burch@nrel.gov,  or 
craig christensen, craig_christensen@nrel.gov, for an independent view.  They 
are two of my recent visitors.  I am worried that people might find I am so 
entertaining that they may have to make appointments to get in here.

The camera is fully functional, but the photo-ops may be somewhat limited.   
With any luck I have entered the boring stage.  I am watching Star Trek 
Insurrection on the tv.  Data has a line where he has to jump into a lake to 
save the drowning heroine: "In case of a water landing, I have been designed 
as a floatation device."  Better than my writing, but they've had a lot 
longer to think these things up.

There are new pictures on the web page, including the actual stem cells and 
the actual transplant.  The camera battery died during these pictures, but we 
did get the Hindenburg shot.  "Oh the humanity, Oh the humanity"  I suspect 
that last quote is too obscure for most of you.  It was said by the radio 
announce when the zeppelin burned in Lindenhurst, New Jersey, in 1937 or so, 
ending the first age of hydrogen implemented transportation. 

I am looking forward to peaceful times here, but always with the anticipation 
of the downside symptoms at any moment.  I have talked to a survivor who had 
no mouth sores, and I got a comment yesterday that, after seeing my Jerry 
Garcia pictures, I may have strong enough hair genes to not lose all of it.  
Some people also have realtively little gi track distress.  This presents the 
ability for me to visualize getting through this in really relative comfort.  
It may not happen, but it gives me something to focus my newly concentrated 
mental abilities onto, something more relevant than the mountains, runs, 
beaches and that sort of thing that I have been visualizing at the other end 
of the rainbow.  I won't forget about Kauai, but it does give me more 
channels to surf through my brain.  You get bored on the beach after a day or 
two.

A major scarce commodity here is sleep.  Being fortunate to be healthy and, 
especially with my supercharged mind engine, sleep has not come easily.  
Sleep is given the back seat compared to the medical necessities.  They take 
vital signs (blood pressure, temperature, blood oxygen (pulse ox), pulse 
rate) every 4 hours, no matter what.  The docs appear on rounds at some 
random time each morning.  The various drip medicines from robbie are started 
when they need to be, and end when the dose and dose rate dictate, typically 
random time events.  Each time they start or stop a drip they have to flush 
the lines into my chest with saline to clear the lines and with heparin to 
prevent blood clots.  None of this is painful, and it has gotten amazingly 
routine considering what they are actually doing to you.  You simply accept 
it.  JoAnne, I think, was real worried about my general lack of ability to 
stand up to things medical.  I once passed out when I helped her and a vet do 
some minor surgery on my older golden retriever, Melody.  "Oh the humanity"  
I was ok until there was blood, then had to be evacuated to the waiting room. 
  There have been other incidents, but you get the point.  Here I have been 
the guinea pig for life's biggest experiment and my biggest concern right now 
is wondering if I can sleep through it so I will feel good when I wake up in 
the morning.  And I do feel good this morning.

A few notes on my expanding cybercommunity out there.  Too many stories to 
tell from this end, but this should pick up your day.  Yesterday morning, 
after reporting on the death here, I got an email from one of the inhabitants 
of my present part of the universe.  She said that her grandson had been born 
at 5:30, just when I was writing my serious emails.  Blew me away.  So now 
I've got births and deaths, a regular Woodstock nation.  Pictures are 
promised, and will show up on the web site if they arrive.

Well,  the Enterprise crew saved the planet but poor Piccard again chose his 
career over the beautiful heroine.  What a dope.  The long anticipated 
Saturday morning cartoons are about to begin, so I will sign off for now.

Later,

Dave

ps:  Anyone I have authorized to call.  Today should be a good day.  I will 
try to stay off the web as much as possible to free up the phone lines.  Keep 
trying.