Five and DONE!

I am happy to report that I had my last Lumbar Puncture with chemo injection this past Wednesday. Sweet! Five pre-BMT and five-post BMT - enough is enough already. They always make me feel a little loopy for days afterward and I found out that it takes a full 3-4 weeks for the effects of the chemo to wear off. Good to know since I have been fretting about why I am off-balance, tripping over my own feet and unable to concentrate. I sometimes go into a store by myself and get so overwhelmed that I have to leave. But the good news - all of my results indicate that there is no cancer in my spine or brain. The other good news is that my last bone marrow biopsy (Oct. 14th) indicates that I am still 100% donor, so it sounds like I have met and passed another major milestone. My next oncologist appointment is Nov. 19th and then again on Dec. 3rd.

For all intents and purposes, my life is slowly but surely getting back to normal. Well, at least what is normal for me now. My hair is growing-dark in spots and gray in spots, and very unruly. I've spent a small fortune on hats because I'm always cold and wonder what it will be like when winter actually arrives. I wear long under ware everyday. I go to bed early and sleep about 8-10 hours a night - that is if I don't have insomnia. My fingernails are rutted and off-hue. I love spending time with my friends and family. Every minute is precious. I can wear contact lenses for short periods, but shouldn't bother to get my eyes checked or new glasses for another 6 months. My vision is sometimes blurry. I worry my leukemia is going to come back. My facial skin has a mind of it's own! I can go to the dentist, but take 2000 mg of Amoxicillin 1 hour before each appointment. I am very calm. I am still taking that foul tasting, very expensive antibiotic, Mepron. I get tired a lot. I have a lot of stomach discomfort. My skin is flabby from no exercise. I have lost lots of weight. I'm down 2 sizes now. My boobs have disappeared. I'm worried that my organs won't be able to stand up to the challenges of chemo. I hate wearing a wig. I've given up alcohol for the most part, but treat myself occasionally to a glass of wine. Coffee, tea and club soda are my new best friends. Damn! I have no strength and find carrying stuff difficult. I shouldn't hug people like I do - it's flu season. I've stopped going to Ravens games. My finger tips go numb. It takes me twice as long to do anything. My chemo tan is fading. Oh, did I mention I get tired a lot? I can now take one aspirin if I get a headache. I don't sweat anymore. I'll be able to color my hair after 1 year. I am grateful everyday.

Can't Believe It's October Already!

Wow! Where did September and the first 12 days of October go?

The last few weeks, while busy, have been good in regard to how I'm feeling. I have been enjoying my renewed energy level and my good health and am probably pushing things a little too hard. While all that is wonderful news, I still must exercise extreme caution - cold and flu season is upon us afterall. On my last oncology appointment on Oct. 1st I was given a flu shot and told there is no guarantee it would work, but it certainly won't hurt to have it either. I may or may not be given the H1N1 shot. Dr. Carraway is very happy with my progress. My next oncology appointment is Oct. 23rd.

This week I'll get Lumbar Puncture #3 and a bone marrow biopsy. The biopsy, along with some extensive blood work, is part of my 6-month post-bone marrow transplant which is actually Nov. 26th. I have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, that's for sure! My last two LPs are Oct. 21st and 28th.

My hair is still trying to find its proper place and my chemo tan (in hidden cracks and crevices) is beginning to fade. I am attempting to do some walking to build up muscle tone (of which I have absolutely none right now) and am working on getting my facial skin back to normal. The chemo, the meds, the weight lose, and the transplant have left my body in complete disarray! No part of me knows quite how it is supposed to "act". I have this mental image of one body part talking to it's neighboring body part saying, "Well, we managed to survive, but how the hell do we get back to normal?"