Yesterday was a long day at the hospital clinic. The night before, my temperature had slowly crept up to 100.8 and I have to call my doctor at 100.5. After carefully quizzing me over the phone, he said to monitor for spikes and chills, otherwise come to clinic first thing in the morning.
I woke up with a temp of 99.8, lower than the night before. We arrived at the clinic at 9, and after a blood draw, I had a bone marrow biopsy. My temperature at this point was normal, and I thanked my doctor profusely for not bringing me in the night before.
Because there was no room for me in the infusion unit, I had to enter the main hospital as an in-patient. This was actually a good thing because I had my own bed in a private room (my favorite corner room, no less) with nurses I have come to really know over the past two months. We didn't walk out of there until 8 pm, but I found an interesting way to amuse myself. Since my hair was coming out in hanks anyway, I gently pulled almost all of it out, trying to get as much as possible in the garbage pail. I was a little uneasy about leaving an unsightly mess behind, but I guess dried up hair is better than most of the other patient messes they deal with.
Today has been a good day. I haven't been out yet due to the rain, but I had the energy to take care of some administrative details, and that never fails to cheer me. Hey, I'm not totally worthless.
The hand-pulled hair left quite a few tufts and odd stripings behind, so I hauled out the clippers and after carefully sterilizing the blade, finished off the shave with the help of my darling husband. The same darling who then had to de-hair the bathroom because it too needed a shave.
I put on a black bandana, some earrings from Africa, and a smile.
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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.
3 comments:
Sounds like you look exotic and beautiful!
Glad you got rid of the hair. It's satisfying to be done with it after the falling-out period. I'm sure you look great.
i bet you look wonderful- something about pulling or shaving the hair yourself is more empowering than letting those follicles decide on their own when to drop!
thinking of you!
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