"Sort me out" is one of those wonderfully British sayings that should be officially inserted into the American vernacular, like, now. This post is going to be delightfully un-sorted (de-sorted? whatever). Lets go with steam of consciousness, shall we?
Tomorrow morning (this morning? jeebus it's 1:30am) P and I are heading back down to Houston for a few days for my SIX MONTH checkup. Six-friggin-months. Amazing. And terrifying.
Ativan has been a friend for the past week or so. For all of the pranayama I can puff, it's times like these that chemicals are the best solution. On Friday I received the first portion of the results of my most recent BMB from Dr. Porter. Let me tell you that in the two(plus) years of this nonsense, THIS biopsy had me the most unsettled. The results were pretty good. Turns out that my inability to produce white blood cells at the moment is, in fact, due to medication NOT disease. Thank flying spaghetti monster. My doctor asked what I was so afraid of with this biopsy...I couldn't even say it out loud. I won't even type it. I have confidence you can probably figure it out. It will take another few weeks to get all of the results from the other tests which tell all sorts of wonderful things, most importantly if there are still any cells with the Philadelphia Chromosome hanging around. The good news is that (well, there's always good news), as soon as we return from Houston, I can stop taking the drug that is doing this to my marrow and get a few shots of Neupogen, which will (should) fix me right up. To say that I am looking forward to this would be...well, inadequate. Once my white cells recover I will have a life free of fear (kinda), for the first time in MONTHS. The countdown to that stupid needle has begun.
Last night P and I got to talkin' about how we were feeling about this trip back down to the Lone Star State, about our shared anxiety and sleeplessness. I was surprised and saddened when he said that he felt the same intense anxiety I feel now, every time he went back and forth. That just about broke my heart. If you know my husband, please give him a pat on the back, or hug (if he'll allow it), or high five for being so damn awesome. Sickness, pain, horror, fear, loneliness, sadness...these are the things that exist in Houston for us. (Except for my friend Sarah D., we are excited to see her). It feels like we're stepping back in time to those months of horror.
Tuesday we're flying down to Houston and meeting up with Sarah D in the late afternoon for the RODEO (uh YEAH!!). Wednesday brings testing and meetings all day- I'll update then. Finally, Thursday we see Dr. De Lima. Though I know, just KNOW that everything is OK, I am absolutely the most anxiety ridden I have been in a long while. I am so full of fear. So full that I keep picturing that the fear and anxiety is this thick oily fluid that is filling me like a glass (in my mind it's a pilsner glass...no idea why) and that it's beginning to overflow and run down the sides of me. It's horrible. I've been working with this image of someone (maybe me) scooping out that goop with their hands and throwing it away with a splat as it hits something satisfying, like a wall maybe.
At any rate, please if you can, send some good juju our way, some calm cool peace. Thank you for your messages of support and love, especially Mrs. Magdy's 2nd grade class (I can't wait to do a post on that).
The ativan and ambien are starting to make me feel like this:
so I'm going to get my tush to sleep.
Much love Philly, I can't wait to get this over with and come back home to you.