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I don't know whether it strikes every transplant recipient, and it doesn't always hit me. But a lot of mornings when I first wake up I have a Whoopee Moment. You know, as in the Bookshelf definition: Whoop-ee (slang interjection used to express jubilance; to engage in a noisy, boisterous celebration).
I open my eyes, blink once or twice, and realize I'm not sick anymore. I'm that guy who got a second chance, a whole new life. Of course, I don't want to scare Harriet or Bernie. So, I keep all the whoops and bell ringing in my mind. Still, Harriet sometimes asks me what that silly grin is on my face. I just smile a bit broader and give her a smooch.
This is the news I've been waiting for. When you have that Whoppee moment - and I didn't get an email? Nary a trace? Yet you've suffered through my gawdy self-promotional emails all this time. What a friend. I am glad to know you. In fact, I'm going to mention this post in my next blog entry.
ReplyDeleteWhoppee on you, my friend! I am right there with you!! :)