It's been 37 years since my bone marrow transplant and this Polaroid picture of me was taken by my dad a few weeks out of the hospital. That look on my face expresses my feeling that I had touched a spark of eternity. Every year I think I won't post anything about this second birthday. I think it will be old news, but it never is. Each year, it's a chance to thank my younger brother, who gave me his bone marrow, which saved my life. I thank my doctor, who is no longer alive, and the 100 plus people (scientists, nurses, family, caregivers) who brought me back to the living. It was a highly risky and experimental procedure when I had my transplant in 1979. I was lucky. It worked out in the most glorious, best possible way.
