Here it is, 11:30 in the morning and I'm lounging on my bed wrapped in an afghan and enjoying the heat emanating from my laptop. Normally, this would be the job of a cat, but I don't have a cat, and this way I don't have to deal with the hair. I'm suspecting that laptops when used on laps possibly result in an increased incidence of lap cancer. I ramble.
Given my malaise, you'd think I actually did something today but you'd be wrong. Unless of course you consider passive "doing," in which case I suppose I never stop. My friend Andria in a recent email reminds me that I am a 24/7 blood-making machine, which is true. Today I just feel bloodless. (Apologies to those of you out there who actually speak French and are wondering what the hell "sans sang" means. I'm hoping it means bloodless, but I feared looking it up because I was so taken with the euphony of the phrase. Plus I really needed a title.
I had a revelation today. Maybe that's why I feel so listless. I was thinking about all the help I've been receiving from others--the shopping, the cooking, the chauffeuring, the laundry, the disinfecting of the kitchen--and I realized how much work I used to do every day without being aware of it. Sincere thanks to all of you who've already put in your hours; advanced thanks to those of you who've lined up for future tours of duty in the home of your poor bloodless friend/sister. And let's hear it for all of you out there who dutifully perform the daily grind in your own homes. I'm tired for all of you.
Marty just came up with a stack of laundry. He thought he was off for Columbus Day! Tote that barge, lift that bale.
I have to cut this short because my baby blood cells are working a double-shift.
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Adirondack Mountains, Feb. 2007
Tale of a Cord Blood Transplantee Who Relapses and Goes on to Have a Matched Unrelated-Donor Transplant
The Weight
Adirondack Mountains, Feb. 2007
ABOUT ME
In March 2006, I was diagnosed with a blood cancer called Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML). Life as I knew it came to a crashing halt. After enduring a month in the hospital where I received intense chemotherapy, I was declared "in remission." I had three additional treatments and remained cancer-free until May 2007, when I relapsed.
My only shot at survival was to have a stem cell transplant. However, my brothers' immune markers didn't match mine, and an international search of bone marrow registries found no perfect matches. A transplant using the blood from two umbilical cords was recommended. I grasped at this straw in September 2007. It seemed to work.
This blog tells the story of my transplant and recovery, replete with outrageous slings and arrows. The expression "blood is thicker than water" has new meaning for me. I remained alive due to the blood of strangers, two of them, both male. Thanks guys.
The plot thickened when I relapsed 19 months into my new remission and had to go through the same rigamarole once more. This time, I received stem cells from a matched adult donor who was identified last go round but didn't fit into the necessary time frame. Charles Dickens could have fun with this, the stuff of pulp fiction.
I remain in remission 4 years later. My donor keeps leukemic cells in check but finds interesting ways to attack my body. Chronic graft versus host disease keeps me firmly entrenched in the medical world. And so it goes.
My only shot at survival was to have a stem cell transplant. However, my brothers' immune markers didn't match mine, and an international search of bone marrow registries found no perfect matches. A transplant using the blood from two umbilical cords was recommended. I grasped at this straw in September 2007. It seemed to work.
This blog tells the story of my transplant and recovery, replete with outrageous slings and arrows. The expression "blood is thicker than water" has new meaning for me. I remained alive due to the blood of strangers, two of them, both male. Thanks guys.
The plot thickened when I relapsed 19 months into my new remission and had to go through the same rigamarole once more. This time, I received stem cells from a matched adult donor who was identified last go round but didn't fit into the necessary time frame. Charles Dickens could have fun with this, the stuff of pulp fiction.
I remain in remission 4 years later. My donor keeps leukemic cells in check but finds interesting ways to attack my body. Chronic graft versus host disease keeps me firmly entrenched in the medical world. And so it goes.
1 comment:
Patty, Since I am a bonafide French speaker, I can validate that "sans sang" does mean bloodless. I hope your slog grows progressively easier. I had some beautiful quotes to share with you, but now that I am ready to send them to you, I can't find them...arggh! Renee
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