Day After Day Zero

So yesterday was the day that I got my cells back and I must admit (as they told me it would be) it was a bit anticlimactic.

The nursing staff began me on fluids around 10 a.m. yesterday so that when I got my cells back they would have enough fluid in the body to swim to where they belonged (this is my explanation, not the scientific medical one).  After two hours of dreaded hydration, it was time!

They brought in a very small bag of cells, hooked it up in combination with some saline, and the result was a drip of runny-Bloody-Mary-mix.  While a Bloody Mary would have been openly welcome, the taste that ensued was so not so much as appetizing.  The whole process took about 40 minutes and two hard-candies worth of time -- that just seems so mind boggling to me.  The cells that are effectively going to restart my entire immune system can be infused in less than the time it takes to watch Mad Men.

While I try and still grapple with the fact that I just had a stem cell transplant and I am forced to eat off the limited BMT (Bone Marrow Transplant) menu, life here in the hospital is tolerable.  The BMT precautions are so over the top: I can't wait for a real cup of coffee and a breath of fresh air, but I have to keep reminding myself that this is my insurance policy I won't ever have to fight Cancer again.  Let me tell you what - that Silver Lining is hard to keep finding.

The latest escapade in the world of BMT dinners is that I ordered chicken fingers last night, and typically when you order such a dish, you get some kind of sauce to go with it (my particular sauce of choice is honey).  Well much to my dismay when dinner came, I had chicken fingers and fries with no sauce because apparently honey is a "natural product that can cause infection."  Obviously, I think this is a load of crap, but I don't make the rules unfortunately.

The other thing that sucks super big time about this place is that I can't feel the fresh air, breathe anything that isn't hepa-filtered, go outside my stupid pod or even walk without two "procedure masks" and gloves on.  When I feel good, I walk the floor pretty relentlessly, counting how many steps I take until I seem to lose count or until I feel the masks might suffocate me.  And when I feel bad, I lay in bed attempting to do anything that will take my mind off how much I don't want to be here.

Today I should get a bike for my room which should help with the boredom, fatigue and general feeling of laziness. Hopefully, if I bike everyday that I am allowed to (dictated by my counts) I won't be such a fat lazy mess when I get out of here.

I have at least had a few small victories around here: I am no longer on constant hydration, which I LOATHE... and I have argued my way out of the duck mask.

Now the duck mask is pretty much as awful as it sounds, it is a thick-layered orange material that has a VERY VERY small plastic band on it that secures to your head. Some of you might know that I have a small head, to the point where I can wear children's things - and this said duck mask almost cut off the circulation to my brain stem and to my cheeks.  Needless to say, I have negotiated my way out of the duck mask and into two procedure masks.

Ugh, how these small things are life's glory right now.

Love you all.

xoxo