No pole - no transfusions

No more pole as of about 6pm this evening. I'm free, sorta. I can put both arms in the sleeves of my jacket. I can go to the bathroom without dragging the pole or worrying about unplugging it. Without unwinding tubes from the bed rails or whatever else they might be snagged on.

Yesterday morning they disconnected the oxygen and I've been comfortable without it.

Sometime over the weekend the IV nutrition was discontinued and I am gradually eating more and feeling less nauseous. I still wish I could pick up an ice cold glass of something and swig it down and have it taste great. Unfortunately things still don't taste 'normal.' Interestingly, the IV nutrition causes nausea and vomiting.

Sunday, Walt made a big chart on the white board that we called the "anti-vomitometer." It ticks off the hours without vomiting. I am now close to the 36 hour goal that we had. (Well there is only room on the board for 36 ticks.) No vomiting in 36 hours. I still keep the barf bin very handy but the peanut butter crackers this evening taste the way I would expect them to taste.

I haven't had a transfusion of blood products for 3-4 weeks. A date I didn't think to mark down. but basically I am transfusion independent.

And the goal now is home tomorrow. I've been cautioned to not get too excited and set on going home tomorrow, but I am so ready to be outta this joint.

A friend made an observation this evening from her own cancer experience. When she was diagnosed, she put her head down and did what had to be done and didn't think of anything else. One by one she completed the chemo treatments with spirits intact and not a lot of help from her friends. Because she didn't need it.

But when she went to the clinic for the last chemo treatment, the nurse came to tell her that they would not be able to do it because her counts were too low. Out of nowhere came torrents of tears and the insistence that they had to give it to her. The tears and upset surprised her totally. In hindsight, she theorized that she was holding herself together according to the plan but as she anticipated the end of her treatment her self control loosened because she wouldn't need it so much.

I can put this theory on my shoulders and feel comfortable wearing it. I have held it together, aimed straight ahead, done what had to be done and now as the end gets closer my grip is not as tight. I am crying more. I am not so afraid I think as just anxious. I am ready to go home to bed and just let go. Just be me. Not a cancer survivor or fighter. Just me.

I want to get a pedicure and have my eyebrows waxed. I want to take a bath in a tub. I want to get some paddling gear out and float for a couple of hours on a river. I want to go see "Mamma Mia" at Starlight theatre. These little goals have gradually moved into spots that were filled with go to Italy, visit Vermont, spend 2 weeks in Chicago getting to know Harrison. First the small ones. Then later, the bigger ones.

See you on the other side.