Mick McKellar Update--Day +73
The intrepid walkers carried umbrellas on our first journey to Rochester Methodist (Charleton Lab A) at 5:30 AM. It was windy, cool, and drizzling for the trip through the steel and glass canyons. Although we arrived before 6:00 AM (when the lab opens), a long line was standing, queued for the receptionists we all assumed would appear. Folks were seated in the waiting room...in the dark. At 6:00 sharp, the lights came on, the nurses appeared, and the machine ramped up to high speed. By 6:30 we were on our way back to the transplant house for glucose testing, more medications, and breakfast.
Our second trip, after 8:00 AM, no longer required rain gear, but was still very windy and cool. We met with a pharmacist assistant, who double checks that I have the right medications and that I am taking them properly. It was a backpack trip, because I had to bring all my meds with me. The wind on the walk back seemed even stronger, and always seemed to be blowing directly into our faces.
After an early lunch, we walked down the third time -- for medical consultation with my transplant coordinator and my doctor. We received a mixed bag of news. My liver function appears normal, although my bilirubin is a "touch" high. My blood pressure is well within the normal range (thanks to medications). My creatinen level for my kidneys seems locked on a number higher than they like, but within limits (Keep drinking that water, Mick!).
Rash alert
However, the doctor is concerned about my skin. She thinks patches of the rash may be coming back, but she is not certain. So we will be watching me over the weekend, with instructions to report any worsening of my skin condition. We are on Rash Alert for the next few days. The specter of the wet wraps dances just beyond my peripheral vision...but I know it's there.
Despite sunshine and a kinder wind, the third walk back to the transplant house was a bit slower, mostly because my batteries were getting a bit low. I needed to recharge and re-focus. Reading through your communications helped tremendously. Thank you all for calling and writing and e-mailing.
Still, I needed to re-focus. I was too tired to dance, napping was out because of the steroids, so...I wrote another poem (below).
The last hurrah of the setting sun just set my window ablaze with golden light, too soon to be cooled by the soft twilight, and sealed with the velvet of a new moon night. The sporadic tapping of my ancient fingers upon this ancient laptop has slowed to a near halt. Time to take a pill and call it a day.
God bless and goodnight,
Mick
And now: Shadow Puddles
I was just sitting on a stone pillar, atop Brockway Mountain (near Copper Harbor, MI) on a warm September day, with my camera set and ready to capture fall colors from the forest panorama -- much of it framed by the deep blue of Lake Superior. An artist's sky swung overhead -- brilliant blue with plenty of fluffy, puffy, white clouds moving rather rapidly before the wind. The sun was high, causing the clouds to cast shadows on the forest and on the surface of the big lake, shadows that chased each other through the valley and hills below.
I remember the incredible speed of the shadows, which seemed to change pace as they crossed the rugged terrain. Despite the chase, no two shadows connected. They just followed each other out of sight over the next ridge. Sometimes, it feels to me that I am chasing along behind one shadow and leading another, racing over rough terrain or blue water, and never quite connecting with any fellow shadows... leaving no trace of my passage...
Mick
Shadow Puddles
In open field, I sat upon a stone,
As scudding clouds drew shadow puddles, fast
Approaching where I chewed my thoughts alone,
I wondered if I'd feel them when they passed.
Touched cooler, yes, than full sun on my skin,
The shadow puddles played upon the field,
And rushed upon the wind, they raced their kin,
Though none could gain advantage, none would yield.
This playful trifle I might have ignored,
Yet, odd, there on my stone that I should find,
The passing puddles touched a deeper chord,
Played deep within the music in my mind --
A song whose message I could not rescind:
We're shadow puddles driven on the wind.
Mick McKellar
May 2011