Mick McKellar Update--Day +58
Tier upon tier of gray clouds compose a diffuse and gentle glow lowering past the panes of my window, echoing the slow confusion and drab backdrop of today. We walked to and from the hospital again, consistent with my exercise plan. Morning was cold, windy, and wet -- this afternoon, cool and breezy. Weather reports predict some warmer weather for the upcoming holiday weekend.
Before my usual blood tests, this morning, Marian and I met with the BMT Diabetes coordinator for training. We tested my blood sugar this morning and I injected insulin from a pen for the first time. Our process is cooperative. I can stick my own finger to draw the blood for the test and even (mostly) get the blood on the test strip. But it takes a steady hand to insert the test strip, and Marian handles that task when my hands shake too badly from cyclosporin. As always, I do what I can and Marian is there to help.
The insulin injection with a pen is mostly a painless procedure -- mainly because the needle is almost invisible. It is not fun and we pray that, when the steroid treatments are done, my blood sugar will go back to normal and this (expensive) procedure will be behind us.
Changes to changes
I was supposed to receive additional fluids today, but overnight changes altered that procedure (high blood pressure and swollen ankles). They test my blood and check my vitals, and then we just rock and roll with whatever GVHD is up to today. Once again they increased the dosage of my blood pressure medication (another possible steroid effect) and we will now start watching for signs that the pressure goes too low. Each day is an adventure.
Rolling with the punches
When we first came here, back in January, I was concerned about dealing with a rolling sameness, a dome of daily routine and unchanging procedures. Although the Gift of Life Transplant House rules are routine, they form a comforting backdrop for the constantly changing faces, the ongoing adventure of each new challenge, and dance of life in a large home full of folks with their own medical problems, some the same as mine, others incredibly different. Sharing takes place everywhere that folks congregate -- usually in one of the kitchens as multiple cooks perform a free-format ballet -- cooking a bewildering variety of meals, simultaneously. I stir my soup, shoulder to shoulder with someone stir-frying veggies, as I blather on about my GVHD changes of the day.
Retreat
After the free-flowing discussions downstairs, I grab a glass of ice water and seek time to process it all in our quiet room. There I can sit back, ponder my challenges, my neighbor's challenges and successes for the day. I must seek myself again and center on the day's changes in medications, treatments, and signals to watch. I come home to my own mind and poke around a bit, not so much seeking solitude as to find balance again and sort the day's events.
A lonesome place, the haunted chambers of my mind, following corridors often to find myself behind myself. My spectre overlooks each self encounter, casting shadow or flashing mirror to startle even my most introspective moment. It is an odd self-reflective instant which can force me to view my actions and thoughts from less than flattering angles. It is here that I believe God provides opportunities, at least for me, to grow a little during my journey, to learn, and to become more than I was an instant earlier. Perhaps a whisper of His love caresses a gossamer veil leading me to find what I seek. After all, He said I need only ask.
Thank you all for your ongoing communications, stories, e-mails, cards and calls. Each new day brings new joys from you with the challenges from change.
God bless you all,
Mick