A woman I loved and love is fighting a disease that can take her life: aplastic anemia.

Aplastic anemia is sonuvabitch low-life medical reality wherein the bone marrow conducts something of a wildcat walkout and decides to reduce the number of blood platelets it is designed to produce. The woman I am referring to was my wife. And while she may be an ex-wife on paper, she is my wife insofar as my heart is concerned. In other words, while the marriage may not have worked for us, she is still family. She always will be.

When she wrote and told me what she is dealing with I collapsed into tears and anguish, a churning emotional condition that soon turned into rage at this hideous reality she is unjustly having to deal with. The anger ran so deep I wanted to drive my hands deep into the throat of God and say, You put us here, the least you could do is explain why you do this to some of us. Fuck blind faith in you. Explain yourself.

Platelets are important players for all of us. They are disc-shaped elements in the blood that help with blood clotting. While they are often thought of as blood cells, they are actually fragments of bone marrow cells called megakaryocytes.

There are some treatments, including a bone-marrow transplant. I have already written her and told her that if by chance my marrow is a match, it is hers for the taking. Moreover, wherever this journey she is on takes her, I told her I will be there for her, whether by e-mail, phone or in person.

I can tell you this woman is one of the most extraordinary people I have ever known. She has, without question, one of the most creative minds I’ve ever known and she is deeply compassionate to her fellow human beings.

She also has a sense of humor (and laugh) surpassed by no one I know. I’ll give you an example. I once asked her if she could find a way of letting me when we were in those four of five days a month when she and perfection were synonyms and I was a complete and utter ass and wholly incapable of getting anything right much less understanding anything. She said she would think of something. One evening a week or two later I was in bed reading when she came into the room with a huge steak knife in hand and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Oh,” she said, “You’re still awake, I’ll be back,” and away she went.

Like I said, great sense of humor, which would make sense because she is a great person. And a willpower of solid steel. If you asked me to bet on her or the aplastic anemia; my money is on her – big time.

One thought on “INTO THE THROAT OF GOD


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