I did something that might have been perceived as questionable last week and I've been holding off on blogging just in case. Before people start calling me in a panic, let me just say that my transplant doctor would have been fine with it. I took the necessary precautions, held my breath and dived right in.
I went house hunting. By myself.
I don't know if any of you will recall, but late last September Chris and I put in an offer on a house. Lucky for us the seller didn't accept. I say "lucky" because two days after we put in the bid I had to be rushed back to MDA for my big mystery illness. You might recall that this was when I got sent back down the river to spend another 30 days in solitary due to the perfidious little tumors riddling my body. While I was getting my initial dose of Rituxan to take care of the PTLD, the seller who had previously declined our offer called with a change of heart. What were the odds? Chris explained that we were no longer in a position to make that kind of commitment, but thanks anyway.
So, fast-forward to last week and keep in mind that my transplant doctor very strongly urged us to start making long term plans. I called up our amazing realtor, who also happens to be a friend--no bias here, she really is amazing at what she does. Last Thursday I met up with her and we did the "house" thing.
The only reason that I thought that house shopping would be questionable is that you never really know what to expect. You're walking into a total stranger's house and sometimes they're model ready, but more often they aren't. For example, I asked to see a house located in a pretty nice neighborhood that was priced way below anything else around it. The online pictures looked decent, if dated, and I felt that we'd be up to the task of updating.
Wrong. The highlights included mildew on the exterior and interior, a funky, musky animal scent, damaged drywall, and a dead bird.
Angela knows my situation and got me out of there ASAP. We literally left flames in our wake.
The other houses were cute and occupied by young families with small children who were mostly present. I got to converse with a precocious two-year old and forgot to be in mortal terror of nasty germs looking for a way past my defenses.
I felt normal and it was nice to talk to total strangers who had no inkling of this past year. I know I keep saying things like that, but once you've become a medical paradox, it tends to be the first thing people want to talk about. Or it makes people fall silent in discomfort. Take your pick. With friends and family, I don't mind. They have some inkling of what's happened.
I went out again on Saturday with Chris and we may have found our new home. We've made an offer, which has been countered and in a few minutes I'm off to counter the seller's offer.
I've waited all week-end watching for the tell tale signs that I'm getting sick or carrying an infection. Nothing. Horrendous inherited allergies don't count.
I'm fairly certain that I'll have something to post tomorrow, so the blogging drought might be over.