Day +164, Friday

Photo of the Day: a moment with a friend.

The nice part about Friday is that it’s over. There’s what I wanted to do, and then what actually happened. Sometimes we just have days like this.

Originally I had just planned on going to the gym, taking an early morning class. The alarm went off any my body said, nope! The extra hour of sleep felt good, and I took my time getting ready in order to be on time for my 9:30 labs.

Unfortunately, the tea I made spilled all over my car’s cup holder and drowned my ProBar, and it turned out my 9:30 labs – which I walked through the door at 9:31 for – were actually supposed to be 9:00 labs. Whoops! Oh well. Phlebotomy was great and let me in and I said that I would stop in after my Dermatology appointment for results.

Derm was great, and I really like my doctor. Curious, funny and fascinated by skin and all things cancer-related, we had a great conversation. Wilma was biopsied; draining was difficult because most of the infection was gone (yay) and replaced by very deep deep scar tissue. Rather than sutures, Dr M inserted some sort of filler in the 3 mm biopsy hole punch that acts as dissolvable stitches. I have no idea what the stuff is called but it was oddly fascinating watching it be placed in my abdomen. I follow up on Wednesday and at that point, have a full body check. Given my propensity for skin cancer, my young-ish age of 40, and GATA2, it’s likely I’ll need a good dermatologist in my corner.

It was easy to swing by my hematologist’s office, as it was 2 doors away from Dermatology. I’m thankful that I did, rather than brushing it off. My Creatinine was higher than Monday, at a not-so-lovely 1.38. So I got more IV fluids.

It’s frustrating, but it’s also my reality. I suspect my Tacro level has risen, as this number in my body correlates to Kidney function. The only other difference, is adding in a few higher-intensity workouts with HEW. I’m guessing that added stress and a higher Tacro level made my kidneys unhappy. And if I’m being honest, my water consumption has been closer to 2 liters per day – so that’s obviously not cutting it, either.

Like so many things, this is just a work in progress.

My mood was, eh, driving home. As my body needed rest, I spent time on the couch downstairs, reading, napping, eating Tomato Basil Wheat Thins. I put a hard line on anything gym or hiking related and just took it easy. Monster was a great friend.

Later, I was just tired and not feeling great. Andy and I made impromptu trips to Lowe’s & Home Depot, trying to solve our upstairs stairwell dilemma. Currently, well – there is no bannister, just an open space. It’s something that needs to be completed before my folks get here. I’m having a challenging time finding a design we both like & can build on our own that’s not super expensive.

We got home close to 9:30 pm, and I just felt off. Tired, my face skin was more sensitive and I was just tired of it hurting. Andy made himself dinner and we were discussing staircases stuff, when I saw Monster chase & jump on WheezyBear outside. WB is the most anxious cat I have ever met, and we’ve been trying to discourage Monster, and at times, Ali from jumping on/chasing her. But they are cats and they do things like this.

Mid conversation with Andy, in not my best moment, I flung open the sliding door, yelled, HEY!, and chased Monster around the back patio enclosure. We have a “time out” box upstairs (think hockey penalty box) that doubles as our cat carrier – Monster spent 5 minutes in there while I cried frustrated tears on our bed. I was just tired, moody and over it.

I So I gave myself a time out. Andy stayed downstairs, making his dinner.

After letting Monster out, I curled up on our bed, played classical music and cried for real – big fat tears, rolling down my cheeks into the pillow. I didn’t even necessarily know what I was crying about – just that I felt terrible for being angry at Monster, and I was just tired of dealing with transplant-related stuff with my body and emotions. I felt like a horrible person who was stressed about a stupid bannister and got angry at a cat. I even questioned, should I have even had a stem cell transplant? And let me tell you, that’s not a very helpful thought when you’re right in the thick of things and 164 days post transplant.

At some point, I fell asleep, tears drying and leaving salty streaks on my face, echoes of Mr Dvorak’s 6th symohony in the background.

I woke around 11:30 pm and changed out of my clothes, slathered on my night creams and found Andy in the recliner in the den. He decided to spend the night where he was. I tried no not make myself feel even worse and just swallowed my OK. He sounded angry. So I went downstairs and made a toasted PB & apricot jam sandwich for dinner and read in bed until falling asleep.

Some days post transplant are not so bad, and other days I feel almost normal. And then there was yesterday. I’m glad that it’s done.

  1. You have been through the ringer
    And have dealt well with pain and uncertainty. Bad days are inevitable but you you are right to express your feelings. I sense that better days will come. Your family and numerous friends are rooting for you.


  2. I’m sorry you had a hard day, but I imagine you will be feeling better today. Here’s to a weekend of less stress!


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