Thursday, October 18, 2007

"Glad you're getting bloodier."

That was my friend Peter's reaction to my rising blood counts. Yes, I am getting bloodier, and thankfully it's all staying where it belongs, inside.

This probably explains why I've been feeling more energetic. I'm taking on more and more activities (lunch-making, laundry--only my own, getting out winter clothes and putting away summery ones), things I couldn't even think about doing a couple of weeks ago. Tomorrow will be seven weeks post-transplant.

There are many things I can't do, some of which I regret and some of which I don't. I regret not being able to get outside, especially on a day like today, and rake leaves. Yup, I like to rake leaves. I'll have to be content with watching the colors turn and then drop as the rest of my family rakes and rakes and rakes, and then withstand long pouty faces and complaints about how Mariel is getting out of the job.

I still feel incapable of putting dinner together and cleaning up afterwards. Maybe because it's late in the day and I've had enough excitement. Maybe I'll feel this way permanently. I'm sure millions of you out there share my sentiment and you haven't even had a transplant. At least you can opt for take-out or a restaurant. That's considered too easy, I mean risky, for me. The irony is that an iron-laden spinach salad is a definite no-no, akin to carrying around a live grenade in my pocket all day. However, anything with preservatives, any food that's been virtually stripped of all natural nutrition and then pumped with unpronounceable chemical compounds, is allowable, if I can swallow it. My brother Chris is making lasagna tonight (domestic pasteurized cheese only!) and instead of a nice crusty Italian bread to go with it, we'll have to opt for one of those pre-made garlic breads in the frozen section, the ones that are a scary yellow color that glow in the dark and have a strange after-taste.

Today's plans include a stop at the bank's drive-in window, a masked and gloved foray into the drug store, a walk, a nap and plenty of food. They love it that my weight's steady if not rising. Thank you packaged convenience food!

1 comment:

Ann said...

I know how you feel about the processed foods. I finally reached the point that I could eat a salad and ended up back at the hospital on a neutropenic diet. Fate is cruel indeed. I did finally get a salad and promptly had it revisit me a few hours later. See aforementioned statement about fate. Keep playing it sloth-like. There are good days and bad. Just take plenty of naps on the bad days so you can do PJ type things on the good ones.