The last time I was a Hero to my son, Lonnie, Jr., and my daughter Bess

Shakeys Pizza made pretty good pizza, the pitchers of beer were better, and best of all was the entertainment on weekends. I liked it especially when they had old-time itinerant banjo players, you know, the guys with the specially-made black wood footrests for the left foot. If you should be lucky enough these days to find one, be sure to ask him (or her) to play "My Dear, the World is Waiting for the Sunshine," the banjo standard by which they compete with each other. They might snarl at you a bit, but if they play it, you'll remember it. (I had one that lied to me, said he didn't know it: ten minutes later he gave me a rousing, wonderful performance.)

Lonnie and Bess came along on Friday nights sometimes, when they were little, and this evening's entertainment included a German beer-drinking contest from volunteers from the audience. I think there were at least five of us who volunteered.

Anyway, they give you a stein of lager and yell "go." The first one to put the stein upside-down on his head wins. Note that you don't actually have to drink the beer to win a German beer-drinking contest but everybody always does.

Now if we Nesselers are universally gifted, it is by the ability to gulp beer, so I volunteered. As we lined up, I noticed that the guy to my right was a huge trucker: my competition, I thought. We were each given a huge frothy stein of lager.

GO! And I was done, stein upside down on my head, while others were no more than half finished. Afterward, the trucker turned to me, and I'll never forget his look of astonishment, "How did you DO that?"

I forget the prize. Free pizza, probably. But the real prize was that my great son and brilliant daughter knew I was a champion (hahahaha), unlike anyone else's dad on earth.

Sigh.

That was then, this is now. Neither has tried to see me, not in more than twenty years, not even now, with my chances being what they are.

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Thus far so good. I have passed just beyond the reach of tumor lysis syndrome, and no problems with the donor cells thus far. Engraftment has not yet been confirmed: I have zero neutrophils. I am flooded with medications. Four days of packed red blood cells in the last four days, every day potassium (usually six bags), and countless platelet transfusions. Explosive diarrhea: I have as much water and gas in me as the gulf.

I went in type A negative. By next week I should be O-pos. 

Ivonne stays with me most days and nights, and most nights I manage to maneuver the xmas tree of infusions through an obstacle course to reach her. She remains my biggest miracle.