Mick McKellar Update--Day +63
Two-thirds of the way to day 100, but who is counting?
Although the sun followed us as we walked to the hospital this morning (early) and teased us all day as we sped from test to test and office to office, as I write, a fine silver light drifts down to my laptop from a white envelope of white clouds. A warm and comfortable day outside, we spent our time inside.
Medically, today was a mixed bag. The numbers show improvement in liver function and kidney function, and they are beginning to taper the steroids slowly. However, my sugar levels are still out of whack and they are increasing my insulin again. Once again, they are moving me to a twice-a-week blood testing regimen, so that is good news.
We are still on rash alert, even though things are looking good on my skin. A podiatrist removed a couple of my toe nails this afternoon. The changes continue...
Dietitian
We met with the BMT dietitian this morning. I received tons of advice on what I should be eating and when, all the while wondering if they follow their own advice. She had plenty of good information, which in the best of all possible worlds would blend beautifully with my treatment plan. Unfortunately, clinic schedules, blood testing with fasting, can force a fairly contorted eating schedule, especially combined with certain medications which must be taken with food, others on an empty stomach, and some which cannot be taken with certain minerals. We do the best we can.
Mr. Fat Face
Once again I don't look like me. Prednisone has a tendency to broaden the face, so each day I look slightly different in the mirror. Oddly it seems almost fitting, for each day I am a bit different. Not all the changes I feel are due to drugs and treatment, or to the effects of the ever-changing GVHD.
Living each day as a complete and separate gift from God simply does not allow one day to be the same as another. I feel I must live each minute (even if that happens to be drifting in a day dream) and treasure those moments, both because they are ephemeral and because they are precious to me.
Precious time
We spend hours in waiting rooms. I find myself, not waiting, not filling the time with frustration, but observing others or reading something I really do want to read, or trying to understand my schedule, even meditating or praying. I have even drifted off into a day dream sitting in a doctor's office waiting for him or her to show up.
I admit that the steroids have added a bit of an edge to my attitude about waiting for the last week or so, but that's chemical, not spiritual. A student of the process, I will remain for the rest of my days. Just starting with myself and my most basic motivations is a graduate course in self-study that I may never finish. I have more than 61 years to evaluate -- at least what I can remember -- and I find that with practice and a willingness to look past the smoke and mirrors, more detailed memories return.
We are so complex and make so many connections to others (even without social networking software) that sorting and sifting among the mirrors and shadows and dust-encrusted old bags of forgotten and misplaced details takes patience and a willingness to see past the shiny veneer of our making, to the raw history and emotions below. It can be frightening and bitter, but it can also be sweet revelation.
Easter brought time for some mellow meandering through memories of past holidays and time spent with family. It brought your good wishes and stories and e-mails and cards. Thank you all so much.
God bless and good night,
Mick