Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Day +14

Finally, a bit of news to report! I had "baby white blood cells" growing today. I have no idea what those are, and they really mean absolutely nothing except to serve as a definite indicator that my cells are building and my counts should be rising any day. My doctor said he expects by Friday to see some counts come in (and then he knocked on wood). I am still really hoping for a Tuesday release; we'll see how it all plays out.

I got two bags of red blood cells today due to all my blood loss. Usually blood transfusions perk me right up, but I've been dragging all day. I am exhausted from not sleeping two nights ago and can't seem to catch enough extra z's to make up for the loss (you'd think sitting in a room all day you'd have plenty of time for naps, but nurses and aides are adept at coming in right at the wrong time). I slept really well last night and am hoping to do the same tonight, maybe then I'll get a little wind in my sails. The platelets also got the bleeding under control, so I mainly just have the bone pain and burning to contend with, and those aren't so bad. Ice packs keep the stomach pain under control, so all-in-all I've felt much better today.

The thought of home is what I hold in my head as I go to sleep each night. I have never even seen our apartment, but I imagine it to get me through the days. I can see myself walking through the door and being greeted by all my puppies (and seeking out my ticked-off kitties), sitting on my own couch with no monitors or medicine poles around me, using the restroom completely in private, singing my daughter to sleep before bed, and sleeping all night (uninterrupted) in my own bed next to my husband. Spending my days as I wish. Going on a walk outside. No new faces and caretakers every day and night. Just sitting with my family in my own home. I crave it so badly it hurts. It has been 21 days. Three weeks. How can three weeks feel like an age? Going into this whole thing I thought I'd be going home by now. But, as the saying goes, everyone we meet is fighting a harder battle. Colten and Rora rode up in the elevator today with a mom whose son has been here 75 days. 75. The number is unfathomable to me. He's having a haplo transplant just like me, and she was his donor. The poor guy gets an infection or a reaction every time his counts start to come up, so they have to kill them again. I hurt for him. I hope he gets to go home soon. And I don't have anything to complain about, 21 days is a fraction of what he's gone through. And, I'll be home next week.

Anyway, the day was uneventful. Rora got her bed, and that was a saga all by itself, but everything worked out, we got a great deal, and she is ridiculously spoiled--but that's another story (something about being an only child). She mixes me "potions" every time she comes to see me by "taking" some of the medicines hanging on my pole and putting a little Rora magic in them. She is going to cure my cancer, she informs me. Heck, if this works, I'll probably give her the credit (and Colten, for supporting it in the first place). My brother-in-law, Cody, is coming up to visit tomorrow and I can't wait to see him. It'll be nice to see another friendly face here in the old prison cell. :-)

My grandma posted a quote to me, my dad, and my aunt today. It read, "Your greatest test is when you are able to bless someone else while you are going through your own storm." This falls in with my kindness kick I've been on in recent posts. I'm still trying to keep it up, but I have to admit it was hard this morning in the early A.M.'s. I just wanted so badly to sleep, and these people kept poking and prodding me with stupid vital machines and medicines. I tried to make up for it today by being extra nice. I thanked my nurse after he gave me my shots (which I do every day to all my nurses, but this was the first time I'd ever had John), and he gave me a quizzical look. "Never had a patient say thanks for a shot before," he said. "It can't be fun to give them, and they are meant to help me," I responded. He shook his head and left my room with an amused smile on his face. I'm going to count that as spreading light today (I really think it counts). So, things to look forward to tomorrow, and another day down to get the counts in. Heading to bed to let those babies build. 



1 comment:

  1. So glad to hear some good news for once! Hope this means you've turned the corner and are on your way out of there! What a day, when you can start it by putting a smile on the face of your shot-bearer! Keep aiming for a smile on the face of everyone who comes thru your door - that would be quite a goal to achieve! Just thinking of you and your perky spirit in the midst of all this always puts a smile on MY face!! And, yeah, white cell babies! Get in there and do your job!!