I was proud of myself yesterday. My doctor's office called to tell me I had an appointment scheduled with a hepatologist, a liver doctor, for Friday. I asked the receptionist why, but she didn't know. My doctor was supposed to get back to me but as of now, has not.
My first reaction was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Many of you know what this feels like. I went on line and researched what hepatology is. A hepatologist treats liver diseases and disorders. I know my liver issues relate to my transplant, and that the graft versus host disease that plagues my body tissues means my donor is doing his job. I'm coming up on my 2-year anniversary next week, a milestone. I remind myself of this every time my eyes get so dry I feel they're being poked with needles, or my body swells with an extra ten pounds of water.
These problems haven't slowed me down. I spent a week in France and Spain with my daughter last week. The France part was relaxing since we stayed with friends at their country home outside of Toulouse. The 2-day Barcelona whirlwind almost did me in, but I had fun and managed to survive. We ate a lot, walked a lot and saw some amazing things.
After a week of not training for the marathon, I went to a hill workout Tuesday night and walked away without limping. I plan to run for 45 minutes this morning while it's still cool. I'll let you know what Dr. Liver has to say.