Day One

Well, Loyal Legions, if catnapping is ever an Olympic event, I stand ready to lead Team USA to victory. Even the boatload of painkillers I took yesterday could not trump the Dex (steroid). The good news is, the Dex dose for the next three days is just 4 mg instead of 10mg. Even without the dex, I might have been too anxious to sleep.

Day One starts with daily meds and daily blood draws. Already, I hate Portitia (the central line catheter) about 1% less. The neck pain is about 1% better. I managed to get down about half of my breakfast: an egg sandwich, the obligatory fruit cup, and some juice. Because of fear of infection, I seem to be on a no fresh fruit diet and it's killin' me. The one thing I want to eat is off limits. I've tried their canned fruit a couple of times, and I don't want to think about how long ago it was canned.

Everyone has been telling me that the transplant itself is a bit of a non-event, so that's what I was expecting. Well, it's a bit more than that. An hour prior, I get a bunch of pre-transplant meds: aniti-fungal, anti-viral, anti-nausea, anti-anxiety and I don't know what else. Then the hoopla begins. Lots of equipment is wheeled in, including a large cart with all kinds of stuff. The stem cells are brought up frozen and defrosted "while-u-wait!" Mom &Dad on one side, me in the bed, and the army of nurses and the supervising Doc God on the other. It looked like they were getting ready to embalm me.

I was already loopy from the anti-anxiety meds; even though they explained what they were doing each step of the way, I just had glassy-eyed nods in response. "Uh-huh." Then as the actual transplant begins, I feel the tension level in the room increase, like air pressure. I get just a flash of warning -- "I'm going to be sick"-- and a small basin is handed to me just in time. A little more of this, a little more of that, the whole thing is over in 20 minutes, but I was out cold long before.

DAY TWO
An uneventful night thanks to that boatload of medicine and a sleeping pill. I've had intermittent hiccups the last 12-18 hours. A tablespoon of peanut butter is an excellent remedy. However, in my case, it only lasts another half hour and then the hics are back! So now we add anit-hiccup meds to the lengthy list of anti-[fill in the disaster] medications.

And now, I'm just going to relax and enjoy my ice water, my cable-of-many-stations, and the opportunity to nap at will, without car doors slamming or dogs barking. I think (hope) I'm entering a boring phase, so maybe a few more nostalgic posts may be in order.