Stir Crazy

I am eating plums out of a can. Does anybody buy these canned plums
anymore? They have the pits in them. I like them - they remind me of
my childhood. For some reason, my mother often bought canned plums
and canned apricots (another favorite of mine!). Then again, the only
vegetables I had as a kid came out of a can. It was the 70's, people.

Why am I eating plums out of a can? Because I cannot have any fresh
fruit or vegetables right now. And I am really craving some fruit. Canned
plums was all I had in the house. A poor substitute for the berries that I want
to eat.

I am neutorpenic. That is a fancy word for "Lady, you have no
immune system". I means that I am house-bound, except for a few brief
forays to go get platelets.

I am giving myself daily injections to jump-start my depleted immune system.
It just takes time. And I'm not terribly patient.

So this weekend, I stayed home while my family went to a fun bar mitzvah. I stayed
home while the Hubs took Sophie to a Home Show (I want a new bathroom!!). I stayed
home while the Hubs went to the school talent show.

I know it's part of the process, but it can be frustrating. And I felt fine all weekend - raring
to go. However, today I'm feeling rather crappy, so it's no big sacrifice to stay in on this
rainy day. I'm making chicken soup.

Because chicken soup can make everything better. And by the end of the week, my
immune system will have recovered somewhat and I won't feel like such a shut-in.

In the meantime, though, I'm a little bit stir-crazy.

Unsung Hero

Getting cancer stinks for the entire family. There is no nice way to put that.
When one person is sick, the whole family suffers on some level or another.
It's hard. Schedules are interupted. Things don't get done. Anxiety levels are high.

But I have to give a huge thank you to The Hubs. He has been a rock through this
process. From the first moment I called him in January, and told him in a very
shaky voice that my bloodwork did not come back looking good and I had to stay
overnight in the hospital. He dropped everything and drove home to be with the kids.

He had an important business meeting scheduled in Arizona the week of January 23rd.
He was also going to visit with his Dad while he was out there. Once my diagnosis
came in, he cancelled the trip without complaining. He also worked from home the
entire time I was in the hospital and became Mr. Mom, taking care of the kids, and driving
them around, and providing them with meals.

And me? Well, I'm not a great wife. I nag him, I complain to him, I grumble. I take
my frustrations out on him. And he usually knows it is because I am so afraid. And
he manages to calm me down.

He's always so positive and I don't ever give him enough credit for all that he does. I
could never go through this without knowing that he has my back.  I know that
he'll be able to handle the home front, so I can focus on getting better so that I can be
me again.

A girl could not ask for better support than that!

Hurry up and Wait

This should be the official mantra of all hospitals.

Got here at 11. In the Rhoads wing again but 7th floor this time. I
am very excited to be room 1. That means I not only get my meals
first, but they might actually be hot.

Penn just got a new computer system last week, so it took a long, long time
to check me in and get my history. And because I accidentally missed
an appointment with my doctor today (it was not on the calendar until this
morning when the hospital called to say the room was ready and I thought
they were the same thing), chemo is delayed.

So I'm just sitting in my room waiting. And waiting. I think I have a few more
hours before they bring the poison in. I'm also untethered right now, which feels
so odd.   Diana the Pole will be my friend once again as soon as everything
gets jumping.

So I'm doing some laps and then coming back in the room to wait. Fun. But at
least I won't be waiting for my meal!! And I'm sure once I get the chemo, I'll
be wishing I was back to the wait stage.

For now, I can look forward to waiting for Saturday, when I get to home to my
family again. I really miss them when I'm away.

Garden Party?

After my last post, I have gotten messages from several people
volunteering to help me with my garden. However, I cannot
harvest or eat any fresh vegetables this summer (still sad about
the tomatoes).

But then I had an idea. What if I order a bunch of flower seeds. And
what if people who would like to help could come over in late May
after I am out of the hospital and help my family clean up the garden
space and plant the flower seeds?

I can't cut the flowers. I cannot go out and smell the flowers.

But I can sit on my deck in the warm sunshine and look out at my
flowering garden and heal.

If you are interested in this, send me a private message. I think a Sunday
in late May/early June depending on my release date would work. We
can order pizza and make it a party.

And I think the bees and butterflies and birds would appreciate it too!

Even Superheroes Get the Blues

Maybe it's the fact that we did not get the promised snow.
Or maybe it's a million other things. I know that I am very
nervous for next weeks' chemo treatment. Maybe it's that.

But I'm just having one of those days. I am sorry I did not invite
anyone, but I am having a Pity Party, and there's only room for me.

Sometimes everything just gets to me.

In January, my family and I were hoping to go to Paris for summer
vacation.
Now I'm going to be spending the summer holed up at home recouperating.
I'm going to feel caged.

In January, I was looking through seed catalogs and mentally planning my garden.
Now, I will not be able to go near the soil. No garden. This saddens my soul.

In January, I was looking at cookbooks. Cookbooks make me happy.
Now, I will not be able to prepare my own meals for 100 days after transplant.
I love cooking. I love making meals for my family, even if all they do is complain
about those meals.

In January, I was working a nice, part-time job.
Now, my full time job is just managing my health. Doctor's appointments,
nurses coming to the house. The fatigue alone prevents me from doing very
much during the day. And it will get worse before it gets better.

In January, I had an appointment for a cut and color.
Now, I just bought a backup wig for LBH.

Some of all of this is because I have become a "What-If-er". I lie awake at
night:

What if this next round of chemo makes me sick.
What if I have to stay in the hospital for more than 3 days.
What if I don't get everything I want to get done, done, before going
in for transplant in April.

And the big What-If that is stealing my sleep.

What If all of this does not work.

Most days, I can just work through things and bounce back up.

Just not having one of those days. Maybe a nap will help. Snow sure would
have helped.Snow makes me feel cozy and safe.

I think I will go snuggle with the dog for a bit. He knows how to break up a
Pity Party. I think that will be a good thing.

It's a Match!

I would like to thank my parents for being boring individuals and handing out
the same immune system to two of their children and almost the same immune
system to the third.

I am a lucky lucky duck!! One of my sisters is a perfect match. This means that
I will be getting a bone marrow transplant from her. And my other sister is
a near match. And there are also ELEVEN
non-related perfect matches out there from the registry. The doctors are very
pleased. I am just scared. Because this makes it real for me. It has also
sped up my timeline immensely.

But first - really good news: Bone Marrow Biopsy came back nice and clean.
I am in full remission from the leukemia. Yay!

So the plan is that I will go into the hospital on March 15th for three days for
a quick chemo treatment. This will ensure that the leukemia stays in remission
for the time it takes to process all of the data for the transplant.

Then I will go in sometime during the week of April 17th for the actual transplant.
I will be in the hospital for a month. Then I will be home again to recoup. With a
lot of restrictions. Again - this is scary for me.

But I am focusing on the positive outcome, not the fear. I have a good chance to
beat this thing! Thank you, sister, for matching me! Thank you other sis for
 being such a great support system. I could never do this without
the two of you!!

Grangry

When you are diagnosed with cancer, whether it's the first time, or, like me, an
exciting second time, a lot of emotions course through you. Fear, anger,
confusion, more fear, just to name a few.

But after all is said and done,  I am left with an emotion I call Granger. This is
being angry and grateful at the same time. It can be quite confusing. But there it is,
Granger.

I am angry that I got cancer in the first place two years ago.
But grateful that it was Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, which is very treatable.

I am angry that my last chemo date was right before my daughter's bat mitzvah in 2015.
But grateful that it was finished, and I was able to attend.

I am angry that I had to go through radiaion. It was grueling.
But grateful that it killed that last of the cancer cells.

I am angry that I now have leukemia.
But grateful that I have a great team of docs and am looking at a cure.

I am angry that I have to go through chemo again.
But grateful that I know what to expect.

I am angry that I had to spend a month in the hospital, and have more hospital time coming.
But grateful that we live near one of the best hospitals out there.

You can be Grangry over lots and lots of stuff. But somehow, I feel lucky to be
Grangry. Very lucky to have the grateful part of that emotion. I hope that I can
stay Grangry. It sure beats "Fangry" - when you are angry and fearful at the same time.
This is how I feel every time I see my actual diagnosis attached to my name.  I don't
like Fangry. I prefer Granger any day. Here's to Granger! May it carry me through some
rough times!