Mick McKellar Update--Day +60
Cold fingers still probed our coats as I rumbled on down the side walk with Marian to this morning's meetings and blood tests. There has been rain, off and on today, but not while we walked. Inside a gray snow globe, we moved as ghosts from the transplant house to the hospital and back again. Iron clouds locked the sun away on this Good Friday.
The constant roll, bump, and whoosh of passing vehicles reaches up to our window from the busy street below, an after-thought, a sound-effect, perhaps the sound-track for a contemplative afternoon. We await the doctor's decision whether to require more blood tests over the weekend and daily visits to the hospital. All depends on the numbers generated from today's blood samples.
Walking has been interesting, because the steroids seem to be directing most fluids to my lower legs and ankles. My shoes are bit tight, and my feet look like square clubs, but there is no pain and they seem to work fine. So, I'm still using them for longer and longer walks each day.
I started on oral Prednisone this AM. The impact is more immediate, but at a lower level than the IV steroids. There has been a quantum shift in some of my medications, others continue as before, and we wait to see what GVHD decides to try next. Everyone is on alert, but things seem stable for the moment.
Staying unsweet
Testing blood sugar remains a challenge. The process is simple, but I complicate matters because both the target (finger) and the testing device are in constant motion. I manage the actual injection with the insulin pen by simulating a ritualized version of the way I have seen characters commit harakiri on screen. The recommended method, holding the pen AS a pen, allows too much hand quake activity. Oh, well, whatever works.
One piece of good news from the diabetic coordinator this morning is that I can (at least for now) abandon the afternoon injection and only have to do the insulin injection in the morning. I've learned to manage the "screaming munchies" at night, allowing for good readings in the morning. Staying unsweet has been a challenge, because steroids really do drive my appetite toward all the wrong stuff.
Remembering another Good Friday
My memories drifted back this afternoon to another time I danced with potential cancer. Some years ago, as part of a regular medical exam, a local doctor discovered lumps in my breasts. These are not uncommon, but when discovered, set off many alarms. Men get breast cancer and have a higher death rate, mainly because they don't check and don't believe. I had some suspect lumps and surgery was scheduled for a biopsy.
As luck would have it, my biopsy was done on a Good Friday. I was wheeled into the operating room at Aspirus Keweenaw and arranged on the operating table. The odd part was that my arms were stretched to either side as though I were placed upon a cross. I remember mentioning to the medical staff that I wondered if there were any significance to my positioning, but don't remember the answer, as I drifted away under anesthesia. The tumors were benign and I was fine, yet the I still hold the image as a significant tie to Good Friday.
Wet walk
We walked again this afternoon, toward St. Mary's Hospital. We took a couple of umbrellas for insurance...a good idea as rain started falling. I haven't walked in the rain under an umbrella for a long time. At home, in the Keweenaw, the rain always seems to be coming from the side. Today, the rain came steadily down, and though shoes, pants, and jackets were dampened, my spirit felt cleansed, as though a little rain-walk washed some of the winter dust from my soul. Warmed by a mug of (diet) hot chocolate and the absence of any phone calls from the hospital, I feel at peace with day plus sixty after my transplant.
Thank you all for your prayers and good thoughts. I am certain that your wishes for a peaceful Easter, and your wonderful cards and messages will make Easter weekend a healing weekend for me.
God bless you all, and God send you the peace and joy of Easter with your friends and family.
Mick