With no medical drama to report, the raison d'etre for this blog falls apart. There are just so many posts you can write about preventative meds, relapse anxiety, blood counts. The only things that remind me I had a transplant eight months ago are the 5 pills I take each day, my continued avoidance of public places, and the wildness of my hair. That I have hair is a wonderful thing. That I resemble Harpo Marx is something else.
Life rolls on. Guest season has opened at our house in the woods. Which reminds me. I saw a big fat turkey out back the other morning, eating all my husband's expensive grass seed. Doug came up from NYC for a visit, bearing pansies and champagne. I probably imbibed more alcohol than my doctor would approve, but it was a much-needed celebration. Next weekend, my brother and his wife are coming up from Georgia for a few days. I just got an email confirmation of my friend's flight to Providence in 2 weeks. Karen likes to spot check my progress. She recently signed on with Team in Training to do a Century Ride in my honor. I don't want to jinx myself, but I look forward to a lazy summer with no cancer in it. That would be heaven.
Mariel arrived home last night from her 3-month sojourn in Ecuador. I briefly saw her as she didn't get in until midnight or so. This morning I see a hammock, a tapestry, a llama-wool sweater, and other exotica strewn about. I can't wait to hear about her adventures. She should be up by the crack of noon.
From now on, I'll ramble away at whatever piques my interest. It may not be leukemia related. It may be anything. You are forewarned.