Onward and upward

Thirty-one days since transplant! Things are looking good, though the GI issues continue to devil me, and the docs seem to just be throwing darts to see what will clear it up.

Nonetheless, it has been a fairly easy recovery. I still have most of my hair, and no other common issues like mouth sores, skin problems, nausea or assorted other maladies that often crop up.

And I have been so fortunate to have my daughter and her husband with us --turns out he's a great cook! Christmas evening he pulled together  seafood chowder to die for, then made stock with the shells to create a swoon-worthy paella the next day.Alas he must return to Chicago so dear Esteban the French bulldog doesn't jump ship (and maybe Karl can work some too).

Boredom is now my cross to bear. My various Santas gifted several good, meaty books, a subscription to the New York Times games site and a weekly storytelling program that will compile my family stories into a yearlong memoir of sorts. 

And then there's the medication management. I take 16 different pills and concoctions to fight everything from potential fungal/viral/bacterial infection to liver function to graft vs host disease and cell rejection. Those all have their peculiarities (take with food or empty stomach; space 4 hours apart but don't take before lab work, etc.) so it's a complicated array. Good thing there's a app for that.

Between stuffing my face with food or meds, I try to get out at least once a day. The little Highlands neighborhood where we're renting a home is eminently walkable for a bust of sunshine and maybe a trip to the grocery. I'll work up to longer distances and more exploring if the weather doesn't turn too wintry.

Being idle is difficult for me -- I want to get things done without help. Asking someone to make breakfast for me just goes against my grain. 

But better safe than sorry so I take baby steps. It's not a race, but a journey to better health.

My Christmas/New Year's Wish

 I've been so fortunate this year to learn of the beautiful people in my life, so it seems a little selfish to want for more.

But spending lots of time in hospitals and isolation gets the ol' noggin working overtime, and I just cannot fathom what has happened to this country.

We are hardly United States anymore -- a 50/50 Congress is proof enough that there are some deep divisions here. But what I cannot understand is how one man --a silver-spoon multimillionaire representing some of the country's poorest areas -- can hold up our government.

The guy drives his Maserati to his yacht, yet worries that an extra $300 payment to poor families will be wasted on drugs. Oh, and it will cause  the debt ceiling to rise further. A minute fraction of the military budget could fund that program in spades.

And then we have the people who think a vaccine will 1. impinge on their freedom, or 2. allow the government to track their every move (as if their phone doesn't already) or 3. create even more demand for aborted fetuses for research purposes.

Most of us are alive an healthy because of the vaccines created decades ago. Not many folks are left in iron lungs these days. It's science, not evil.

I  was never a fan of the Bush presidents, but I do remember the elder extolling us to be a kinder and gentler nation -- where did that go off the rails?

We need to re-examine what's really important in life. My former Virginia neighbor alerted me to  a chronicle of a young woman diagnosed with leukemia, Between Two Kingdoms. She had a horrible case with too many side effects and setbacks, but in the end she seems to have conquered the immediate threat. 

To transition back to "normal" life, she takes a road trip and visits many people who corresponded with her during her illness (she somehow managed to snag a New York Times column to chronicle her cancer journey). The wisdom from the people she met was astounding, but the one that really struck me was a woman who'd lost her son to suicide then developed her own cancer. 

"The events of the last few years have been a terrible lesson in being present,, not just in my own life, but in  the lives of the people I love. Tomorrow may happen or tomorrow may not." 

Just in case it does though, why not be kind? For any number of reasons, some people struggle with daily living -- give them a break. To go back to the mantra of the '80s, think about What Would Jesus Do? He would show love for whomever needed it.

Can we honor that concept, and make this a nicer place to be present in the lives of all. 

Sprung for now

 YESSS! A few days later than planned, I finally got to leave Presbyterian/St. Luke's Bone Marrow Transplant center at the end of a very long day of waiting yesterday. 

Twenty-six days without fresh air or the feel of the sun on my face. Missed the first Evergreen snow (2 in.) and the officially latest first Denver snow (0.3 in), but I just glad to be out of my room.

It's a mixed bag, though. We have to figure out when and what of the 14 or so medications to take. No nurses to swoop in at just the right time to dole out expertly curated doses. 

I've left the IV pole behind in favor of  a fanny pack holding a little bottle of magnesium supplementation attached to my central line. 

All in all, not too bad, and I have the best unskilled caregivers: my husband and daughter. I can't even imagine how I would have done any of this without them.

And, in time for Christmas! Infection protocols prevent a live tree but the fake one will get gussied up with our 35 years of ornaments to make it just as festive --without the pine needle shedding.

With my beautiful family here to share my new lease on life, I cannot help but feel so very lucky. 

Sneaky farts and itchy feet

Fair warning: This might get a little gross.

Almost a week since my transplant day, and I'm still feeling pretty good, Doctors says things are progressing as expected. No major problems, but then the dreaded Graft vs Host Disease apparently doesn't kick in (if at all) until two weeks out.

The stem cells are not "engrafted" yet, which I think means they haven't started to produce their own blood cells. That's when the clash of old vs. new might occur. 

And I'm not sure how that will happen, because my own blood is seriously lacking these days. For example, my white blood cell count today is .20 where normal is between 4 and 11. That makes it difficult for my body to fight infection. Platelets, which allow your blood to clot and stop bleeding, are at 47. The dentists wouldn't even see me until I had a platelet count over 50.

So, the procedures of my first few days here --chemotherapy and irradiation -- have done their job. The expected side effects run the gamut (it can be anything, one doc said) but the common compliant is nausea and diarrhea. So far I've been lucky with (and medicated against) the former, but the latter persists.

The first night of the malady, my nurse warned, "don't trust a fart." I didn't get it until, well, I did.

My only other compliant sneaks in at night when I have trouble sleeping: itchy feet.

Maybe they itch all the time and I just don't pay attention to it, but it drove me nuts one night. Fortunately, as I suspect there is for any other malady, there's a drug for that. I'm not sure if Benadryl actually stops the sensation or just knocks you out so you don't notice.

As long as you don't ignore the fart.