I’m doing as well as could be hoped for physically. No serious side-effects of the transplant have arisen yet. And so far there are no indications of serious infections. And I had more energy and less nausea today than yesterday. Currently the only issue is that I still have little appetite and eating feels like a chore.
Waiting the next two to three weeks to see if the stem cells graft and begin producing blood is going to be much harder for me than waiting for the transplant itself. Pre-transplant I was happily at home with MF and BF playing an enthusiastic role in the family, running in the woods with The Dog, and working. Surrounded by those whom I love most and engaged in meaningful work, my life was full of valuable roles and activities. The Horace-Jesus-Epictetus attitude (that I spoke about in the Patience entry) was easier to attain and maintain pre-transplant because it encouraged my attention on those activities. And it fed on itself; the more I enjoyed them, the easier it was not to be distracted by worry. But now I am isolated from all that. I am not living with the ones I love. Everyday life is far less rewarding. It’s lonelier. It’s boring. And it’s anti-septic. When BF visited we sat and held hands, hers in a plastic glove, while watching Ghostbusters. To make matters worse, the repeated measurements of my temperature, weight, and blood pressure, the daily blood drawing, and the may IVs are constant reminders that my circumstance is still precarious and uncertain.
I see no magic fix for the precariousness of the Carpe Diem attitude in these circumstances. Debilitating worry is still irrational in the sense that it only undermines whatever good could come out of the present circumstances. That provides some leverage on the worry. But alone it’s not enough. I’ll need as much contact as I can get with my family either physically or virtually. Light diversions help too, especially when I’m too tired for anything else. A little work seems like it might even help in connecting me with activities that are important to me. And after last night, I’ve embraced the utility of a sleeping pill.
These next few weeks, I think, are not going to be easy. But they’ll be easier if I continue to feel relatively good physically, if the side-effects and infections remain minimal. If all goes as is likely, we will be able to celebrate the blood production beginning before too long.
Writing helps. It gives me something to work on. And I deeply appreciate your loving support. But there may be very few developments for a while—in the circumstances that would be good. I’m not sure I’ll have much to report. Should my entries tapper off a bit, assume that no news is good news.