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.