So I’ve been sitting with my laptop in front of me all day – one window open to this post. The blank page. I have a dozen things I of which I could write spanning the last week in the hospital. Btw, can you believe it has been a full week? I mean – really – where did that time go. Took two days just to get my central line ironed out. Three days for the pulmonary function test, and even though my last night of chemo was last night, I’m STILL trying to figure out the schedule. And that, despite the calendar I was given.
Weeping Zombie
There are a few reasons I haven’t updated the blog. Primarily because of the medication. My chemotherapy regimen consisted of two drugs this time: Busulfan and Cytoxan. Busulfan was given over the first 4 days, every six hours lasting for two hours. (So 8-10am, 2-4pm, etc). One of the side effects of Busulfan are seizures. So I was given Ativan as a countermeasure. Round the clock. I became a complete zombie. Unable to function, the last days are just a blur. Seriously. Add to that… the weepies. OMGosh, I was a crying mess. Everything would set me off. I could not look at a picture of my two boys without bursting into tears. Yes…I miss them madly, but the Ativan was making the feelings even more intense. I spent the greater part of the last five days sleeping. And yes, I probably needed it.
Another reason I’ve not updated the blog is because I simply have too much in my head. From multiple changes to my inner circle of friends and support system over the last months, to losing touch with a few of the most influential people in that circle, to the realization that I won’t hug my boys for a month. To just dealing with the fact that I’m getting someone else’s immune system transplanted into me. Tomorrow.
At some point, the brain just freezes and needs to just exist . . . and heal . . . without having to analyze.
Mashed Potatoes
So I survived the “weepies” brought on by the Ativan. The last two days of chemo (Sunday and Monday, days -3 and -2) brought the nausea. I have to tell you….I’m a pansy when it comes to nausea. I don’t know whether it’s age or orneriness, but a stomachache will put me to bed faster than anything else can. Apparently, Cytoxan and I do not get along very well. Within an hour of my first dose, I was clutching the bucket in front of me. Two days, and minus 9 pounds later… I managed to have mashed potatoes that stayed down.. Victory! My nurse told me that it’s not uncommon for a patient to react to the chemo that fast. She was just hoping that it was a short-lived immediate reaction and not the beginning of the longer term symptoms that appear one – three weeks later. Thankfully, the former not the latter.
The Remote
Each room in the Bone Marrow Transplant Unit (BMTU) has a TV (19″ maybe?), VCR, and DVD player. No… not HD. No…not flat screen. Think one step above the console units we used to have as kids. Okay…not THAT bad…but functional. And… when I was last here as an inpatient…had a remote control. Now, I KNOW they want to keep us up and moving. But… you try toting around a pole named Roger that is now taller (and likely heavier!) than yourself up and out of bed to pause a movie every time someone walks in to do vitals, dispense meds, calls, etc. So my husband (THANK YOU!!!) ran out to buy a universal remote today after the staff was unable to locate anything. This poor guy spent the entire time he was here visiting, just making sure my remote worked and was programmed correctly. I am *so* grateful. 🙂
And My Last Night as “Me”
Today an amazing, courageous, generous woman donated a portion of her stem cells so that I might have a chance at life without cancer.
As I watched the sunset from my hospital room window, I was struck by the realization that this would be the last time I sleep as “me.” Or at least the me I was born as. Tomorrow night, and every night for as long as I am given on this earth, I will sleep with someone else a part of me. A very vital part, no less. My lifeblood. The blood-red sunset seemed made for me, tonight.
And my usual… music on the mind…
The Long and Winding Road, The Beatles
The Road Less Traveled 
So now you’ll have two Birthdays! We are with you.
Everyone in our family will pause at noon to pray for your cure! We love you so much. Godspeed!
Tammy, you are so strong and brave. I will also pause at noon to pray for this procedure to go well. You are such an inspiration. God bless you mightily.
Sorry Tammy, this is TOO CLOSE to your actual birthday. You are only getting ONE CAKE! So, if I was you I would concentrate on getting my taste buds back cause you only have a week and half till CAKE DAY!
If you have time you can work on the rest of you too 🙂
LIVE STRONG!
An equally amazing, courageous, generous woman is also receiving such a gift! Your colleagues at ImClone are thinking about you and hoping for a speedy recovery so you can “get back to work”. We have many projects that need managing.
you are amazing! Prayers are with you!