Tuesday the 25th of Aug – It’s all in the blood!

Pop a bottle of your finest champagne! As of yesterday, the stem cell transplant is officially a success. The results of Mar’s puncture from last week are good. Her marrow is clean! The doctors explain that the DNA in her blood is now for 100% our father’s. It’s a most unusual concept that gives a whole new meaning to "his blood runs through her veins" which it literally does. In true Rossini fashion it begs to be made fun of and who better then Mara to start with the first round. Her opening remark as she announces the excellent news is that if she ever kills anyone and leaves blood traces on the scene, all DNA evidence would lead straight to Dad. So for our first toast: here’s to a potentially successful life of crime.

Typically, Dad goes for the more traditional Italian guilt treatment and when I get on his case one time too many (as I usually do), he warns me that by offending him, I am now directly insulting my sister who has the same blood. So for our second toast: here’s to guilt tripping.

Now me, I opt for a more “refined” psychological approach. While the DNA of every part of her anatomy is still her own, courtesy of an exotic genetic parental cocktail, the blood pumping in her body is now solely our fathers (sorry Mom). This means that she has a double DNA personality (still with me?). So for our third toast: here’s to my sister being a schizo or at the very least genetically bipolar.

Mmmhhh…Does one’s chosen line of joking reflect on one’s character or on one’s frame of mind? If so it would make Mara murderous, Dad a guilt tripper and I psychologically (or just plain) inacurate…

Anyway, the road to full recovery may still be long and winding; at least we now see a beautiful horizon ahead, making the way so much sweeter! So for our final toast: HERE’S TO MARA!

She is very slowly but steadily regaining strength. Her eating habits have improved although her Houdini appetite is still in full disappearance act and Mar forces herself to eat. She lost so much weight she looks tiny, like a waif. Yesterday, somebody asked if I was her Mom. H.o.w R.u.d.e! I was deeply (ok not so deeply) vexed and Mar tried comforting me. She said with the mouth cap and the hat only her big blue eyes were visible. Also with the “born to be wild” print on her yellow t-shirt and the huge pink bag, she could easily be mistaken for a kid. Even so, I’m just too young to be some teenager’s mother and it becomes apparent that something desperately needs to be done about my Soccer Mom failed haircut. At this point, I feel like I’m a couple of makeovers away from almost pretty!