I didn’t write yesterday about my transfusion. I was physically drained from it all. I slept through most of it in the big, comfy chair I picked out. Reclined back, curled up, and fell asleep. 

When I woke up, my bag was almost empty, and Daddy came in to see how I was, and to assist me to the car.

I felt nauseated and my arm was really sore. Got home and watched a movie with my brother. Tried to eat something, and fell asleep on my comfy couch. I’m not much better today. Debating eating, or just sip on tea. I’m not sure what to do, comme ci, comme ça.

This whole ordeal has been increasingly difficult for some of my friends to cope with. I can understand why; it’s not easy watching someone just deteriorate. I know I can’t tell them everything is fine because it’s not. Even I am finding myself scared, so how can I convince them otherwise?

I’m sure my plan is flawed, but simple. I’m going to remain strong, determined to keep going, and as positive as humanly possible. I try to minimize most of my problems anyway, so I won’t be changing now. I don’t want anyone to worry about me; they all have their own lives and issues. They shouldn’t have to worry about mine as well.

My motto is as eloquently put as Deadpool has in the comics and movie; “Maximum Effort.”

That’s about it for my thoughts. I am cold and tired. I’m going to wrap myself up in a blanket and take a little nap.