We're calling this Engraftment!

White Cell Count - 1.7

I'm writing a little bit earlier in the evening today hoping the message is more cohesive. I've been seriously out of it for a couple of days.

But Eureka! Today they did the thoracentesis. Early today. I slept through a chest x-ray (still trying to figure that one out.) I got more platelets, and I got outta Dodge. They drew 1.7 litres out of my chest cavity through a single poke. Looked like a large tankard of beer: Golden with a frothy head. A marketing option to consider I think.

I believe the only way I can sleep through a chest x-ray is being deaf. A portable chest x-ray machine is a very large, boxy, daunting apparatus. It comes through the bedroom door like ghost busters accompanied by two green figures, one of them waving a monstrous blue screen (a nightmare for a geek like me I promise you.) It barely fits into my room (the smallest on the floor) and has to be positioned so that the camera arm slues exactly across the top of the bathroom sink and counter. Plus last night I was wearing pajamas with little buttons that had to be unbuttoned. (why I much prefer CT scans--as long as it's plastic the scanner doesn't care.)

But that was really good news.

My mouth has healed a lot. Today I "ate" an Ensure shake, and a red Popsicle. One day this week, I think it was even on the weekend the Nurse Practitioner changed orders so all my meds were liquid or IV. That changed life so much for the better. Even taking the pills with the Morphine swish & swallow took 15 or 20 minutes to work up the nerve to swallow. My nurse just brought in the twice daily Acyclovir which is 20 ml. of not very good tasting stuff but it is tons better than a huge honkin pill I was taking before.

I also have been free from oxygen all day today, since the procedure this morning. And I am bald....have I mentioned that? My poor ears have become very tender supporting my hearing aids, my glasses, oxygen tubes and a hat. The glasses are not a 24/7 item but it's enough. I think the respiratory folks will still be visiting for another day or so but my blood O2 is hanging tough.

Going bald happened last week and it was so messy and anti-climactic compared to everything else going on that I may have left it out. Mom was here Wednesday and I showered and pulled out a couple handsful of hair. She got some scissors and trimmed all the curls from the back and sides and it looked cute. But thin. The next day Dad came down and he did not have the headgear that I wanted. So I took a shower and pulled out 3 or more handsful of hair and did nothing. Then Walt showed up on Saturday and asked with a curling lip "do we need to do something here?" I asked what he was talking about and he said "your hair! it's everywhere! Do we need to take charge here?" Short answer is yes and the razor was duly acquired from the desk and Walt shaved my head. Many thanks. On Sunday he showed up with cotton balls and polish remover and removed the dregs of nail polish from my toes.

So I'm feeling tidy, if not gorgeous. I walked today, sans oxygen. Slow and steady as they say. It takes a couple of turns in the hallway to ease the restrictive feeling about my middle. I have many walking companions. On one very bad day, a nurse picked me up every time I left my room and gave me a pep talk up and down the hall. My sisters and my parents are good walking companions. Peggy, who visits often, "drove the pole" one time down the hall. In one trip she managed to bang into at least half of the people in the hall, some of them high maintenance family members, so I took away her driving privileges for now. She is a good companion.

I have a card here from Peggy with photos of 4 dogs and 3 fire hydrants on the cover. Inside it says "some days are dog days and some are hydrant days." So we're hoping for all dog days ahead.