`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves...

For those of you who aren't familiar, the title of this blog post is from Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky (from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872.)  When I was young, this was one of my favourite poems (along with The Walrus And The Carpenter, which also featured in Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872).  In 1985, Alice In Wonderland was made into a TV movie and in 1988, it was shown on the local TV station where I lived at the time. It was on too late at night for me to stay up and watch, so my mother stayed up to tape it for me. (Yes, I said tape. This was back in the day of VCRs. We all remember VCRs, right? Incidentally,  I also remember records and 8-tracks, too.)  As I recall, she also paused the recording at all the appropriate times so as to eliminate the commercials. Anyway, it was televised over two nights and I remember eagerly awaiting the second part so I could watch the whole film.

I was captivated. I loved it. Until the Jabberwocky came on. I was terrified. Fear gripped me like nothing else had before and put a sinking, dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach. I think I cried. I certainly looked away in parts. I remember the Jabberwocky being the worst thing to happen in life. Ever. I searched online and found a picture of this fantastic, fear-inspiring creature. Here it is:

Not so terrifying as an (almost) 32 year old woman, I must admit.

You may ask yourself why I'm telling you this. I am telling you this because I wanted to give you some idea of how I felt when the phone rang late Wednesday afternoon, and I saw that it was a call from Great Ormond Street Hospital.  Worst.Feeling.Ever.

Before the CNS could even utter the words "Hi, this is Helen from BMT", I knew. I knew. And my stomach fell out. And I wanted to hide my head under the covers. And I immediately thought of my childhood nemesis, the Jabberwocky. It wasn't the fear that got me, it was the dread. The stomach-sinking feeling. The panic. The knowledge that I had to face this "monster" in order to get to the end, and I couldn't fast forward past the horrible parts.

If you haven't been keeping up with Facebook, or haven't guessed yet, Miya's BMT was postponed. The donor failed her medical and was not able to donate.  Devastated. We have, however, been given a time frame. They have one month to find another 10/10 donor, and if they don't, they have a 9/10 donor that they will use.  There is an increased risk of GVHD with a 9/10 donor but if the doctor's a happy to proceed, then so am I.  After all, I didn't go to medical school for years and years. I'm no specialist.  

I think I went through the five stages of grief in about 24 hours.  I accepted it and moved on. Chris and I accepted it and moved on. Miya doesn't care.  She doesn't even know. She's bald and she's cool with that.

So now we wait. Again. That's OK. I'm down with that. I can dig it.  After all, it's not as if it's the actual Jabberwocky, is it?