Captain's Log: September 20, 2012. Day 4 of mission, 7th floor, 12:10pm.
Since arriving in the foreign world of "Planet Hospital" four days ago, our crew has been busy trying to repair the lung mechanism and conditions continue to improve. I have successfully made contact with that strange yet somehow wonderful species known throughout this place as "doctors" and they, in turn, have called in some sort of rabbit army to aid me in my quest. Though the rabbits are somewhat unpredictable (they seem to bring with them a whole slew of annoyances, from fever to general stomach discomfort), they are, as best I can tell, doing their job. Reports indicate that the invading t-cells are being effectively subdued, and one of the doctor leaders has suggested that I might be able to withdraw from stage 1 of the mission (that frustrating stage better known as "operation inpatient") as early as tomorrow evening.
My fingers are certainly crossed.
The inhabitants of Hospital are truly a unique bunch -- many of them seem able to run around continuously for days on end with little, if any, observed sleeping habits. The world is inhabited by a host of both daytime and nocturnal creatures and therefore remains at full activity at all times, which makes normal human sleeping patterns difficult to sustain. Also strange is that these energetic creatures apparently do not eat, as so far I have observed absolutely NO sign of edible food stuffs. This scarcity has been partially relieved by messengers from the distant realm of New York, of whom I am lucky to have several. These messengers not only provide nourishment, but also much needed company and the occasional picture of "King Sampson Bear" from back home. For them, I am grateful.
Yesterday morning one of the doctor leaders had scheduled me for an interesting activity known to his kind as the "gastric emptying study." (Doctors as a species, I should add, are certainly a curious bunch -- it's not uncommon for them to want to perform several of these types of study activities in a single day.) The first part of this mission was simple: I was told to refrain from eating the already inedible food stuffs served to humans on this planet. Done and done. Next they demanded that I eat radioactive oatmeal in place of a regular breakfast and lie down on a table under what they call an "x-ray" arm. They kept me in that position, immobile, for an hour -- a condition that normally would have annoyed me but which I found surprisingly pleasant, as it was the first quiet hour of actual sleep I've had since arrival. This morning, the doctor leader informed me that the study showed delayed emptying (par for the course in my particular brand of humans, by the way) but not to an excessive degree. After a short peace talk, he and I agreed to wait and see before trying out any new weapons on this latest enemy.
And so we sit. And so we wait.
If all goes according to plan, we should be launching the final two rabbit army assaults on the t-cells tonight and tomorrow, after which (please, please, please) I will be able to return home to King Sammy and restart most of my normal activities back in TransplantLand. I have been warned that the effects of the rabbits may remain with me for several days, but I am, as always, optimistic. If I can handle slaying the CF monster, after all, I think I can handle some bunnies. The continued plan for the remainder of the mission includes stabilizing the effects of that dreaded rejection monster through a few minor weapons adjustments and, sometime in the near future, a possible frontal attack on the sinus region to once again annihilate the Pseudo bugs. All in a day's work for someone with 30 years of wartime experience.
I'll sign off now, with the final thought that this mission, while scarier than previous assignments, has already renewed my faith in the treacherous exploration we call lung transplant. Though ultimately I hope more and more of our species will find such travels unnecessary for their particular journeys, I am grateful to have had the chance to wander this new terrain with such amazing support from my fellow travelers, the wonderful doctor leaders, and everyone else out there that makes up this world so strange -- and so beautiful.