In Bed With My Man

Listening to his shallow breathing interspersed with coughing fits. We meet with the team at Stanford this afternoon to find out if this second attempt at the transplant is a go.

He's in pretty bad shape. If they say it's a no-go, there's a very real possibility I'll need a bed in their psych ward. And we'll be camping out on somebody's oncology floor until he gets some mother fucking chemo.

Pom poms locked and loaded.