Razor blades

I mentioned to Joe yesterday that it's hard to believe I had my stem cell transplant just a few days ago. "No," he said, "you had it almost 2 weeks ago." "Really?" "Really."  And so goes the conversation.  "Well what have I been doing these 2 weeks??  I can't remember."  "You've been recovering, doing all the right things.  Look how great you feel today."  "I know, but what have I been doing??  I don't remember what I've been doing."  "Well, you've updated your blog, you've made some jewelry, you've read but just a little, you've walked around the unit.  How's that for doing?"  In my mind, not much.  I could have done all of that stuff in a morning.  What about the other 13 and a half days???  "You don't remember the pain?"  Ahhh...the lightbulb went off.   Now I remember what I was doing - I was accepting any and all medication offered.  I was in terrific pain most of the time and then I was heavily medicated.  Medicated naps were my activity of choice!

Yeah, my throat.  I  remember the Transplant Nurse telling me to suck on a lot of ice chips before, during and after the Melphalan - and I did.  She said that might protect my throat and esophagus during the upcoming weeks.  I sucked more ice chips that I can believe and I really don't ever want to suck an ice chip again.  However, despite my ice chip obedience, my throat and esophagus were in much pain when talking and swallowing.  My throat hurt so much that I had to whisper in my newly found low voice.  Sometimes it hurt so much I was unable to enunciate and I sounded like a husky-voiced mumbler. And because I was heavily medicated, I was falling asleep during almost all attempts to converse.

My esophagus was even worse than my throat.  I think I may have mentioned in an earlier blog that without the ice chips, it might feel like I was swallowing razor blades.  Despite the ice chips, I felt like I had a wad of blades that went into a frenzy whenever I tried to swallow.  Edward Scissorhands comes to mind.  Yes, I was in a lot of pain.  No wonder I wouldn't remember.  Those were dark days.

Late Friday and Saturday I began to pull out of the cycle of pain and meds.  Today I feel very little pain and I've been weaned from Dilaudid (I even had my own 'push when it hurts' Dilaudid button, as well as a continuous low stream).  I'm still napping quite a bit but it's not a medication-induced sleep.  I'm not eating much - maybe 600 calories a day.  I thought I'd lose 20 lbs during this ordeal, but no, I've actually gained from the continuous flow of fluids into me.  One of the fluids has been potassium.  Now that I am fairly lucid, I'll need to ask the doc why I needed such a high intake of potassium.

So that's about it from here.  Oh - one more thing - I celebrated birthday #52 last weekend!  Joe and Joseph smuggled in a frozen Sara Lee Chocolate Cake.  Mmmmm.  It was the best cake I've ever tasted! I do recall, though,  that the guys had one piece each and tossed the remainder in the trash.  Very unlike them.  My medicated opinion strikes again!

One more item:  Joseph left for his sophomore year at college.  I missed that completely.  Joseph, I hope you got there without too much event, have everything you need for your new room, picked up your books at Uncle's, and will stay focused on the end goal - becoming a happy, successful, and educated young man.  I may have given you this talk during my medicated state, but even if I did, it's worth repeating again...and again, and again... :-)

And so I'll close here for now.  I have 3 more days here in my little bubble room at BWH.  I pray that all goes well over these days and that there are no complications in my discharge.  The nurses have given me outstanding care and I will miss them.  But I am so looking forward to being home, seeing my cats who have been in kitty boot camp this week (no outside for them until I am completely recovered), looking out the window to see my flowers that Mom has been tending, and resting in my own bed.  When challenged by cancer, one comes to appreciate even the smallest things in life.