I’m nearing the beginning of a journey to death and new life. I’m to have a bone marrow transplant in less than two weeks. They’re gonna kill off most of my blood cells and then install new healthy cells from a donor. I guess you could say that I’ll be re-born or born again.

Times have changed. You no longer need a God to bring you back to life. These days, all you need is good health insurance and a better doctor.

In my case, I need a healthy, matched donor, too. I need their blood more than a vampire needs blood on a full moon. The transplant will recreate my blood using someone else’s genetic code. Wow. Part of me is gone and part of me is new. I’ll be twins.

Patients aren’t told the identity of the donor. They remain unknown. If their identity is requested, sometimes they may consent.  I have a reoccurring discussion with my doctor, who knows who the person is. I’ll predict the race or nationality of my donor and then guess the traits that I will inherit from my new twin. Like enjoying a newfound fondness for rice, or maybe beans, dancing with soul, etc. I’m sure you get it. He never gives me an answer, but I keep asking for hints to what amalgamated traits my new twin will leave me after my metamorphosis.    

Sometimes I fear that I’ll end up like the monster that Doctor Frankenstein created. My doctor is a brilliant young man who has a lot of experience in transplants. I doubt that I’ll end up with raw stitches in my face or have bolts in my neck when he’s done with me.

There’s a long list of post-op side effects that threaten me though. I won’t bore you with them, but don’t worry. There’s no chance that I’ll end up a dangerous homicidal maniac. So put away your torches and pitchforks.

I hope to end up like the monster that Peter Boyle portrayed in Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein. In the film, Doctor Frankenstein shares his successful experiment by dressing the monster in top hat and tails. The tuxedoed Doctor and the Monster perform a tap dance and duet of the song Puttin on the Ritz before an auditorium packed with medical and psychological experts.

I’ve started to memorize and rehearse the printed lyrics to the song. My plan is to perform it for my family when I return home, born again, in 8 weeks.

My homecoming is sure to be the most fantastic and joyful event of either my past, or my new life. Just like Peter Boyle before me, I’ll be Puttin on the Ritz!