Quiet Sunday.

Got another 4.6 million stem cells yesterday so they pronounced me finished and let me get my catheter line taken out today.  Wasn’t too painful although I probably should have skipped looking when the nurse asked me if I wanted to see it.  Shnikes.

So 10 million cells harvested, well above the 6 I was shooting for.

Had to take it easy after I got home because with a borderline platelet count (borderline as in any lower and they would have given me some) this won’t heal as fast and can be serious if it rips apart or gets infected.  No lifting heavy stuff, no bending over, etc.  No showering either until at the earliest tomorrow morning, which is getting old.  Need a shave as well.

I only have two more appointments before I go into the hospital and start the chemotherapy at this point — a pre-admission office visit with Dr. M. and to get my PICC line installed.

As it gets down to the wire I’m getting more and more nervous about everything coming up.  As with previous milestones in this treatment, things are about to ratchet up the seriousness quotient again.

Woke up this morning having thoughts about Mischief as well and how much I miss him, which hasn’t really helped either.  Wish he was here.

My thoughts are disjointed, sort of like this entry.  Trying to figure out what to do with Ariana this week since when I go into the hospital a week from tomorrow we won’t see each other for almost 3 weeks (she can’t visit me).  Maybe we’ll go to the zoo or something — like to maximize my time with her, and I need to write her another letter this week too.  Amy’s step-father gets into town Saturday which will be great — not just to get some help, but we’ve got a fun dinner out planned (Brazilian steakhouse) and I know Ari will love seeing her grandfather.

Sad today, for whatever reason/s, and just can’t shake it.  It’s been creeping up slowly but surely lately as I get closer to going into the hospital.  It’s easy, even when laying there being harvested, to forget what you are there for and what you are doing.  As I’ve written before, however, when the reality comes crashing back it can be pretty brutal.  Not sure there’s ever any escaping that, any normalcy to be found here if I look too hard.

Just another cancer patient looking out from inside.

Author: uwfacepalm

Father, husband, portfolio manager, cancer victim (multiple myeloma since 2013). Trying to navigate this goddamn disease as best I can while enjoying what time I have left via those relationships, friends, the UFC, gaming, MMJ, diving and helping teach it before this all went down as a PADI Assistant Instructor and a Dive Guide at the Denver Aquarium (well, before my white blood cell count went to shit thanks to the chemo/disease).

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