Holy shit, this past year…

Remember a year ago, when Covid first hit? There were very clear guidelines and expectations, and (just about) everyone followed them. It wasn’t pleasant, but we did it. We did it for public safety. We did it to protect ourselves and others, our loved ones and complete strangers. We came together, figuratively, and did what needed to be done to maintain our health.

Unfortunately, for too many it wasn’t enough. Covid found them and took over their bodies. My Instagram and Facebook pages became filled with heartbroken husbands, wives, children and grandchildren because they had suddenly lost a loved one. No goodbye, no final “I love you” not even a funeral service could be had. No closure.

What was happening scared the shit out of me and it still does. If an otherwise healthy person can succumb to this new, unknown virus, what did it mean for me? You see, I am in that “ high risk” group. Due to my history with cancer and still only 1 year post stem cell transplant, if I were to come into contact with this virus, it could be deadly for me. My Oncologist was clearly scared for her patients, and she’s typically got a good poker face.

Ya see, I have a problem with dying.

I don’t want to.

Not yet.

I already had to face my morality, not once but twice and it is not a road I want to go down again.

Having very clear guidelines for social distancing, quarantining, and having a “pod” of friends that I knew where not taking any chances, like our family was, was so comforting. I found new hobbies and simple pleasures in gardening and bird watching. Zoom trivia nights with Jeff’s new co-workers. FaceTime WineTime with my dearest, Steve, in FL. Boozing it up on Facebook video chat when the comfort level was uneasy. Disney Staycation with our “pod”…I hate that hipster term. We’re more of a “crew” or a “gang”. We fuck shit up when we get together.
Anyway, Disney Staycation, and themed food nights…South of the Border, Mexican, Hoff-toberfest, Irish Night, Italian Night, and most recently BBQ fest. I even enjoyed having time to cook for these small gatherings.

Then it got colder and outdoor gatherings had to stop because I was NOT letting people in my house and I was NOT going into theirs. Friends and family started to go back to work, if they even stopped at all. Exposure to Covid was still a risk and prevalent. No Thanksgiving in FL. No family Christmas. New Years was celebrated over a Zoom call.
But that was ok for me, being in my “high risk” position.

I had plenty to keep me busy over the fall and winter months. My youngest, Sam, was mentally not ok and I immersed myself in getting him the intensive help he needed. I poured my heart and soul into my family, keeping us safe, healthy and above all else happy.

Now Spring has sprung!
I am 2 years post transplant and that is a huge milestone. I no longer need to be under Sloan-Kettering’s recurrence microscope. Check-ups every 6 months, CAT scans once a year. I have to have yearly checkups for the residual effects of treatment including: mammogram and ultrasound screenings, dermatologist, optometrist, dentist, cardiologist, and thyroid testing. Radiation to the chest and neck can cause future cancers and/or issues, so I have to continue to be proactive. As of today I only have one childhood vaccination left. It has been a long road and there’s still more ahead.

As of March 23rd, I received my second Moderna COVID-19 vaccine. I felt a great sense of relief getting it and protecting myself. The kids went back into school 2 weeks after, and have been doing so much better all around. Some normalicy has come back and it feels pretty good.

Unfortunately, re-integrating into the public has really triggered my anxiety and I am having a very difficult time navigating it. I am talking to my therapist again and my Psychiatrist at Sloan.

Now the Covid protocol lines have been blurred. I am vaccinated and protected, I KNOW this. It’s concrete. But I am now concerned and suspicious of everyone else around me, because I also know that I can still get Covid, carry it and pass it on to others.
I believe the science. Science cured my cancer. Science is real and concrete.

But I also know that not everyone else feels the same way. I know that others don’t feel the need to protect themselves and people around around them. This is so fucking scary for me. Like, shaking while I type this scary.

I have no problem going to Wegmans and doing my grocery shopping. But if I see someone down the aisle with their mask under their nose, I will turn around and avoid them at all cost. If someone is coming towards me and I can’t get away, I turn my back to them and say either, “Mask up, please.” or “Your dick is out.”. It depends on my mood.
I trust no one.
Except my Gang. I know we are all vaccinated and still taking the necessary precautions.

We are celebrating our nephews First Communion in a few weeks and I struggled with the amount of people going, even though we will be outdoors. I embarrassingly explained my fears to my sister and brother-in-law (who is a part of the Gang!), and they lovingly listened and assured me that the adults going have been vaccinated. I’ll probably still wear a mask for my own piece of mind, I don’t know.

I don’t WANT to miss events anymore. I don’t WANT to not be around my people. But I am still scared. I am not ok. I am working on it.

I want to feel safe.

I want to feel regarded.

I want to feel supported.

I want to feel RELLY FUCKING SEEN.
I have been through shit that most of you didn’t see up close. It has had a lifelong effect on me and I am doing everything to keep myself safe from the things that are out of my control. I am putting myself first. I can’t fix everything, but I am choosing what and who to give my energy to.

I know I can’t be the only person trying to figure all of this out. Please just be kind. You truly never know what someone is going through.

Thank you so much to the Gang this past year. I love you all so much and am so grateful to have been able to make memories with you. Cheers to making more!

Thanks for checking in.💜

My appointment with the “Survivorship Team” this past Monday was nothing that I thought, or hoped, it would be.

We were out the door at 6 am, with Sam in toe, due to being very worried about going to school without me being there (it’s a trigger for him).  We got to a brand spanking new Sloan-Kettering Hospital on 74th Street overlooking the FDR at 7:45am. It is a beautiful facility. Stunning.

I was the first patient to have Pulmonary Function Testing done in the new building. Pretty cool. According to the nurse, I had an 18% increase in lung function verses my previous test last January after chemo.

We had to take a Lyft to another building for lab work and Bone Density imaging. Then another Lyft, or maybe it was an Uber, back to the 74th Street building for my Survivorship Team appointment!  Not the most convenient set up, but it was fine.

Survivorship.  This was what I had been waiting for. Moving ahead. Tips and tricks for side effects I am still experiencing.  Excitement over the 1 year mark.  Positivity and information in moving beyond all the shit.

Apparently, the Nurse Practitioner I saw, and will be seeing every year, doesn’t do things that way.  When she walked in the examination room a heaviness came in with her. Her style, it seems, is very clinical, sterile, monotone, cold, and emotionless—Girlfriend did not crack a smile ONCE.  Now, I have dealt with this type of bedside matter before, and it didn’t bother me because it was important in diagnosing me and finding a course of action.  But that’s not what I was there for that day, I thought I was there for Survivorship—positivity in moving forward and ready to take on the world.  Instead, I left choking back tears and feeling like I had been diagnosed all over again, but this time for the rest of my life.

After asking all sorts of questions and answering, as she tapped on her keyboard, she handed me some papers that were stapled together.  She started at the top, literally. She did not stray from this script. She stared with a recap for me: my diagnosis on April 10th 2017, course of treatment, chemo drugs I had, how many cycles, date of remission, second diagnosis, course of treatment, chemo drugs, course of radiation…and so on.  I wasn’t there for a recap, with every gory detail, what the fuck was happening???  I know all of this information. I lived it. I am still dealing with it. Thank you for adding insult to injury, Lady.  That was the first time my eyes welled up and my throat started to tighten.

But wait, Sammy is sitting in the room with me, I can’t lose my shit.  He can’t see me start sobbing. I can’t tell her to please stop, I need a moment…I have to swallow it.  If she noticed I was upset when I looked her, she ignored it.

I think I tuned her out at some point.  She explained all of the follow-up care I need to do-for the rest of my life-because radiation can weaken the teeth, and thyroid, and heart, and lungs, and more susceptible to breast cancer, and other cancers, and make sure I have yearly eye exams because I am at risk for getter cataracts or glaucoma, or some shit and find a dermatologist…I don’t think she came up for air.  I sat there choking on her words and overly detailed information.

By the time she finished and asked if I had any questions for her I had forgotten every question I had and just wanted to get out of that room.  After a quick exam, we left. It felt like all of the wind had been kicked out of me.

I ate some lunch, which was difficult with the dry mouth I was experiencing after that appointment.  When we were done, Sam went to the bathroom.  And all at once, air came back into my lungs, tears fell and sobs escaped my throat.  Jeff kept repeating all the positives that weren’t discussed in the exam room, but I was too far gone. I very quickly composed myself before Sam returned. (Thank goodness he was pooping.)

The ride home was very quiet.  I came home and crawled in bed, wondering HOW I was going to wake up in the morning and start a new job.

 

The rest of this may be TMI for some people, but this is all about the realities of my situation, no matter how ugly it may be.  So, stop now if you have a problem with “womanly body functions”.

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All of the chemo put me in menopause.  I was having all of the typical side effects—hot flashes, night sweats and all of the sudden vaginal dryness and painful (so painful) intercourse. I immediately made an appoint with my Gyno, did the blood work to see my hormone levels.  The doctor gave me a sample of an estrogen ring to insert to help with the dryness and pain, but it takes 6 weeks to take effect. Joy.  Results came back and my levels were very low, along with no period in over a year, that was it. I’m done, officially. I knew it could happen, but until it actually does, you don’t believe it. Like everything else in this ordeal, right?

Three months later, it is time to replace the estrogen ring. The office called in a prescription to my pharmacy, no problem.  Except there is a problem, the damn thing costs $345.12.  A medication to aid me in my sexual health and function will cost me three hundred, forty-five dollars and twelve cents.
Talk about adding insult to injury. Fuck.

Here’s the thing, if it were Jeff, he could get Viagra and pay NOTHING. Why the fuck am I expected to pay over $300 for the same issue?!?!?  I just can’t anymore.  I’m so angry and frustrated and sad and exhausted and just defeated. So defeated.

Along with all of this I have ZERO libido. Nothing. And it is soul crushing to me. Never in a million years did I think this would happen to me—never thought cancer would happen either, so, the joke’s on me I guess.

I’m taking a supplement to help with the menopause symptoms, and it’s been helpful. I’m going to try something for the libido issues, and see how it goes.  As for the estrogen ring waiting for me at the pharmacy, I guess it’s going to stay there.  I CANNOT and WILL NOT pay that amount of money to shove up my hoo-haa.  I’ll see if the Gyno has an other suggestions.

Friday I’m back in the city for my first round of childhood immunizations. After this initial meeting, I should be able to get the rest of my shots at the Basking Ridge hospital.  I’m allowed to get a flu shot now to, so I gotta get on that.

Stay well, all.

Thanks for checking in.💜

 

 

That’s right…it’s been 359 days since my Stem Cell Transplant.  Next week is my 1 year Rebirth Day.  And right now I feel numb to it.

So, let me back track a bit.  The past few months have been amazing.  My check ups have gone well.  Scans in December looked great.  I do have some scarring in my right lung, it is permanent (bronchiectasis) and probably from radiation.  I just have to be careful of any cough or difficulty breathing and report it immediately.

In August I took a girl’s trip to FL with my girl Jen, to see Steve.  It was the most awesome thing I might have ever done. I had the freaking best time.

We went back to FL as a family for Thanksgiving, which was amazing to be able to do again.  Cooking dinner, being around the table with Steve for the holiday again felt so good. We made some great memories just being together and enjoying the weather, scenery and food.

I made the conscious decision to do things differently for the holidays.  I was looking SO FORWARD  to hosting Christmas Eve at our house again.  I couldn’t wait to have everyone back under our roof, filling the house with chatter, laughter, excitement, music, love…sounds perfect right?  Not going to lie, it wasn’t what I had hoped it to be. There was this weird tone in the air?  I couldn’t really put my finger on it, but things felt off.  Not everyone was able to attend, the energy was different, but I did my best to ignore it and move on.  My sisters did experience a loss in October, so I was conscience of that, but I had just hoped for more joy to be surrounding us…to be surrounding me.

Jeff’s Family Christmas was awesome.  I hadn’t seen everyone since Christmas 2017, so it felt great to be present and catch up with everyone.  There was also a loss felt at this gathering, but within that loss was love, fond memories and support.  It really was a beautiful day.

And then, New Year’s Eve…

I’ve never celebrated NYE.  Never understood the hoopla around it.  But I really wanted this year to be different.  It wound up being the best party I’ve ever had the pleasure of throwing.  The countdown was like nothing I had ever experienced.  The love and excitement that filled our home was absolutely overwhelming.  And now I understand it.  I get it.  I think this is going to be a new tradition.

Then, the holidays were over, kids went back to school, I got on a schedule at the gym and the silence became deafening.  Nothing left to plan or events to look forward to, no more distractions.  January started out fine, but as the days dragged on, flashbacks began to happen.  It started with a couple of sleepless nights, a flash of a hospital hallway, a memory of something I ate or something I wore, how it felt so lonely in that room…just random, stupid shit.  Right now as I sit here, I can hardly hold it together.  I just feel this heaviness in my body.  It’s just pure sadness. Sadness for what I was put through.  Sadness for how Jeff and the boys had to see me–so broken and sick. Sadness for the days I cannot even remember over the course of those 4 weeks.

So, the 1 year mark is looming and I don’t know what to do with it. Celebrate it? Ignore it? Acknowledge it quietly and move on?  I don’t know how to navigate this. Maybe just shove my face in cake?  (That’s what I REALLY want to do right now.)  Yeah, I overeat when I get in this state.  Like, bad stuff too…I mean, it’s good, like yummy good, but it’s so so bad.  And I have no “off switch” once I start.

Anywho, that’s where I’m at right now.  I just have to get past this, and I will.  Just right now sucks.  Right now I’m in the middle of this thick fog, and I know as the fog begins to lift everything I have to look forward to will shine through.  But first, I have to meet with the “Survivor Team” and get a bunch of tests and bloodwork, which will require a day at Sloan in NY in about a week.  It should be a hoot-n-nanny.  My hope is that once that is over I will be able relax a bit and find some peace.

I love you all so much.  Thanks for checking in.💜

 

 

Sorry, you guys, I had every intention of writing a 100 day post.  I got totally distracted by Mexican food and tequila…not kidding.

My scans are clear and I am officially in remission, again.  My transplant Doc showed me my September scans vs. my May scans.

Well, see for yourself, too…

Seeing it, actually SEEING it, makes it real.  The numbness, pulling, tightness I’m still feeling in my chest is scar tissue that is shrinking.

All restrictions have been lifted. I can eat out again. Eat lunch meat. Eat sushi. Drink. Be among people and crowded places(within reason).  I still have to hand wash and sanitize often. Needless to say, I’ve been eating all the foods, and let me tell you, it’s SO GOOD!  I started tracking my food again so I don’t go out of control, because it’s so easy for me right now. So, all in moderation and balance.  If I eat 2 Tim Hortons donuts for breakfast, I know to limit my carbs the rest of the day.

So what now…

My transplant Doc will be watching me closely, but from behind the scenes.  I can go back to Dr. Hamilton at MSK Basking Ridge.  I will see her in a couple of weeks. Check-ups every 3 months, scans every 6 months for the next 2 years and something new, Survivorship Team.  I’m not sure what that entails or what it means or why I didn’t have a “Survivorship Team” after the first go-around, but I will find out in August when I meet with them.

I’ve starting processing the trauma of the last 2 years with my psychologist using EMDR.  It’s not easy, it’s very emotional and very vivid, but I processed through the first thing on my list and I can honestly say it’s less painful.  It’s bizarre and amazing. Look it up.  It’s an amazing thing for trauma and PTSD.

I started back to yoga class. I’m starting there because my body is not ready for the shock of kickboxing or lifting. I need to loosen up first and be able to handle my own body weight.  Yoga has been amazing, my place is amazing and supportive, and the classes are so reflective.  So, a big THANK YOU to Nicole at Honor Yoga for giving me a reason to get off the couch and moving toward feeling something normal again.

Jeff continues to be the best person I could ever ask for at my side.  He knows exactly what I need, even when I am resistant to it.  He’s so patient with me when I’m in a funk and don’t want to be bothered.  But at the same time, he pushes me to find the joy and love in the little things, to appreciate all of the love we are surrounded by in our family and friends. He reminds to not take one second for granted—even when the boys are bickering. Sweet, sweet bickering…ahhhhh.

That’s about it for now, I guess. Can’t really think of anything else. I’m thinking this blog will have a different focus from now on.

Recovery? One cup at a time??? LOL

I love you all. Thanks for checking in.💜

 

💜This post is dedicated to Linda Ward-Arico who succumbed to ovarian cancer on May 15th after a 3 year battle.  And to her family left behind, I’m sending you love and strength. She was a force. A beautiful force.💜

 

 

So, it’s been a few weeks since I wrote.  Not much has changed on my end. At my last appointment, blood work was good, BP was on the low side again, but we chatted and things are looking good.

Mentally, in the last week, things have taken a turn. It was bound to happen. The triggers were going to find me. At first I didn’t realize why I wasn’t sleeping again because I was distracted by other things. Until I found out a loved one has Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. It’s devastating, unfair and way too close to home.  For her, I’m trying to focus on one test at a time right now, guide her in anyway I can and we will know more by the end of the week.

So, of course I start reflecting on how my I received my diagnosis, the scans and visits and port placement and, oh shit, it’s my chemo “anniversary”. I have my CT scans in 2 weeks…cue all the emotions. This is why I haven’t been sleeping.

Thankfully I had a visit with the psychologist at MSK already scheduled. She suggested trying something new for sleep. I tried it for 4 nights and it worked, but it made me feel “not right”. I can’t explain it, but it kinda heightened my sadness and anxiety.  So, last night I was up. I tried taking an Ativan, put in an earbud and did my usual meditation. I was still wide awake after 30 minutes of meditating. Dog had to go out, so I let out and plopped myself on the couch.  There was actually something comforting and relaxing to not fighting to get to sleep. I was awake and just rolled with it. At 2:30, I decided to try going back to bed.  Next thing I knew Jeff was gently waking me up and it was 7:17am.  He knew I had a rough night and stayed behind to help with the boys. He’s my hero.

I got myself going, got the kids out the door, ate, had a second cup of coffee…well, guess I’m UP NOW!  I got dressed, put on makeup and went grocery shopping.

When I’m busy, I’m ok. I feel good. I feel normal, upbeat, happy even.

But today I crashed. By the time I reached the car with the cart full of groceries, I didn’t know how I was going to get the groceries in the house. I was done. I sat on the bumper of the car, took a chance and texted Jeff to see if he was in the area. He called right away and said he was nearby. I told him I needed help. (Asking for help is very difficult for me, but I have learned not to push myself)  He dropped everything to meet me at the house. Again, my hero.

I’m going back to my counselor next week and I found an online support group that starts up in June.  I knew I was going to get back to this point, so I’m prepared.

Monday the 13th are my scans.

Friday the 17th is my 100th day. I have an appointment with my Transplant doctor to hear the results of the scans and find out what restrictions can be lifted.

Please, send me all of your positive vibes, strength, and love. If you pray, that’s cool. You do you, but I’m asking for vibes. All the good vibes you can muster up.

Thanks for checking in. I love you all. 💜

…Or 36 days until day 100.

I don’t have much to report, which is good.  My stem team appointments are now 3 weeks apart.  Which means 2 more appointments and I’ll be released back to Dr. Hamilton at Sloan in Basking Ridge.  That also means a scan at my last appointment to see, actually see, what the results are to all of this shit I’ve been through the last 6 months.  I still have numbness and occasional sharp pangs on the left side of my sternum.  That could be nerves that were affected by the biopsy back in October or scar tissue or the tumor still shrinking…but I won’t know anything until that scan.

My hairs are growing!  My brows have filled in nicely.  My lashes are also filling in quickly.  They’re cute lil babies and coming in full. (Much thanks to Peter Thomas Roth’s Lashes to Die For Turbo Nighttime Eyelash Treatment.  It’s pricey, but so so so worth it! I use it nightly on my lashes and brows. https://www.sephora.com/product/lashes-to-die-for-turbo-nighttime-eyelash-treatment-P381031icid2=products%20grid:p381031:product)  Lastly, I have a fuzzy head!  That started 2 weeks ago and I’m getting fuzzier every week!  It’s so exciting and such a moral boost.  To finally look in a mirror and see some semblance of myself staring back at me is just everything right now.  I just need it to get consistently warmer so I can go hat-less without freezing.

I’m tired of not being able to eat outside foods.  I actually sat in Taco Bell while the boys ate across from me.  I just fucking sat there smelling the taco-y goodness.  I couldn’t even have a drink because “No Fountain Drinks”.  I’m putting together an Eating Plan once I get clearance.  First stop, Shake Shack.  Then, Sol, our favorite Mexican place. Then, sushi.  So much sushi.

I have been out of the house, which is awesome.  Always with a mask and gloves, I’ve been to the mall, Target, the park, and I plan on more weekday matinees.  Yesterday was my first time out alone to Christmas Tree Shop.  It was glorious.  Seriously, I walked up and down each aisle twice to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Next I want to conquer grocery shopping.

I’m still not allowed large, intimate gatherings.  Due to this I had to miss my Aunt’s funeral.  I couldn’t be there for my mom or cousins who are hurting so much right now.  I had to miss my nephew’s birthday party with family and friends.  The absence hurts.  The not being there makes me feel lonely.  But this is my reality and I’m so close to being able to be present again and maintain my health.  I’m so, so close.

Thanks for checking in. Love you all!

 

The last 20 days have had many highs and lows, but recently, there have been way more highs.

My appointments with my transplant doctor have gone well. I’ve had no complications, no fevers, no signs of infection, and my counts all look good. That doesn’t mean I can slack off with my diet and protecting myself, but to continue doing so until I hit my 100th day (May 17th). I still have a day or 2 during the week where I don’t feel good, but I force feed myself and drown in Netflix. Some stand out viewing:

Leaving Neverland and Surviving R. Kelly are sickening and enraging.

Watch Ricky Gevais’ new show, After Life, on Netflix. He’s amazing.

The last season of Catastrophe on Amazon Prime was awesome. I love Rob Delaney.

I finally watched Poltergeist, the original, from beginning to end. The clown got me. And, how do to explain that to your homeowner’s insurance???

Jeff has been great getting me off the couch. We started with walks in the driveway. He took me to Target for my first outing. Then we went to the mall with the kids about a week later. That was exhausting for me. This past Monday, we caught a 10am showing of Captain Marvel.  Holy shit it was so good!

I’m allowed to go out as long as I wear a mask and gloves and it’s off-peak hours. It’s weird, and I feel weird, especially because I try smiling at people (because they’re starting) but they can’t see me smiling under the mask.

I’ve started helping with laundry. And today I purged the freezer and pantry.

So, yeah, I’m coming around!

Working on sleeping problems and ugly thoughts creeping in. Everyday is a process and sometimes a struggle to get out of my head. But I’m doing it.

Continued thanks to our Meal Train helpers. We’re phasing it out soon, because things are getting easier.

A big thank you to Terry for helping with the kids in the morning every 2 weeks when we have to get into the city early.

Thank you to everyone for your words of encouragement, thoughtful gifts, check-ins, and just thinking of us. It means so much that you are a part of my “tribe”.

Love you all! Thanks for checking in. xxoo

PS This morning I noticed baby eyebrows growing in!!! Cannot express the joy I felt seeing them!

Next, hair…I hope!

 

Full disclosure: I have no memory of writing and posting my last entry, Day 6. In fact, I don’t have much memory of the 20 days I spent in the hospital. Snippets, really.

I do remember the stem team telling me on Sunday (17th) that I’d be released on Tuesday (19th), and I was a deer in headlights. The doctor assured me that I’d be ok to go home. I was walking laps, eating enough, hydrated, and my counts had started to rise. Blood pressure was still low, but I just had to be careful and slow going from laying to upright.

Monday, CeCe, my central line in my chest, was yanked out. Literally, guys, YANKED. It fucking hurt and I’m pretty sure I cursed. They slapped a band-aid on the insision and sent me on my way.

I tried to start packing up, but I kept getting so winded and tired, I felt a little helpless.

Discharge was between 11am and 12pm. I was out the door by noon and on my way home to a fully decorated house, and all new worries.

So far, it’s been great to be home. Having the comfort of my own bed was the best thing ever. Being back with my girl, Pepper, made me feel no longer lonely. The energy and noise of the boys is music, for the most part. But being at Jeff’s side again, right where I belong, there are just no words. There are a lot of happy tears though.

It’s about a week of being back home now. Eating is still a huge turn off, but I’m doing the best I can. Drinking 64 oz is also difficult, but I’m getting it done. Coffee has been a no-go, but I’ve been reassured by my doctor my taste for it will return. At my first check-up last week, my counts had jumped up, which is really good. My stem cells are in my bone marrow and new cells are being made.  This doesn’t change the fact that my immune system is immature.  I am highly susceptible to illness. I am still on a low microbial diet. I am still so weak. Just so weak.

Jeff is taking amazing care of me. I am so incredibly thankful for him. I am the luckiest girl.

Thank you to everyone that continues to help out with the Meal Train. Although I cannot enjoy what is sent over, it is so very helpful and appreciated by Jeff and the boys.

I love you all. Thanks for checking in. 💜

 

Feeling shitty took on a whole new level.  Just a few of my experiences over the last couple of days/nights have included:

extreamly low blood pressure

rapid heart rate

fever

diarrhea to the point of pain and tears

platelete transfusions

blood transfusions

dizziness

lightheadedness

passing out on the toilet in the middle of the night

blood cultures

abdominal and intestinal cramping

Vomiting

I just want to sleep it off.  With all of that, who wouldn’t?  Sleep is the only escape you have from feeling every second of that. So that’s what I’ve be been doing. Today I told PT and OT there would be no walking the halls. I know my body and I’ll walk when I know I can.

Also, not eating or drinking much either. But a spoonful of oatmeal, a few crackers, toast, half of a banana is enough when I can. In fact here come the stomach cramps now…

i love you all. Thanks for checking in.

I feel shitty today. Lightheaded, weak, nauseous, diarrhea…no particular way of sitting or laying feels good.

I’ve gone from the bed to the chair to work on a puzzle and bed to bathroom. It’s takes everything out of me today.

But that’s what happens when your blood counts drop out from under you. My platelets are especially low so a platelet transfusion is happening. Probably not the last.

That yellow bag is platelets.