Day minus 6 (D-6): There’s no turning back

This will be short.  I have a longer post that has been percolating for about 3 weeks, but do not have the time or will-power to write it this evening.

Tonight is my second night as an inpatient again – this time for preperartory chemotherapy and then bone marrow transplant.

I said good bye to my coworkers – with more than a small number of tears.  They are my lifeline – whether they realize it or not.  To be kept away for the next 6 months or more, will test me at a very intense level.

And saying goodbye to my kids – oh dear God every time I type or say that my heart breaks all over again.  They are never ever going to know just how hard it was for me to do this for them.  But it is – all for them.

The effects of the chemotherapy are already there – my typing is almost painful.  Not because my fingers hurt, but because the anti-seizure medication has affected the way signals get to my body parts.  My fingers do not type what my brain is telling them to.  And trying to string a coherent sentence together is more than a bit challenging.   Short term memory is already a problem.   I cry a lot, I say little.  And mostly just try to breathe.

So yesterday and today I have hunkered down in my usual corner sofa, blanket up to my chin, clutching “the bear”, and crying out the pain.

One day at a time, I know I’ll see the rainbows again soon.  But for now, the sound of the rain…

Theme of Rain, @Justicepianosongs