I'm back. And that horse kicked my ass.

You know, I had no idea how hard this treatment was going to be. Ignorance is bliss. And I am so incredibly, blissfully ignorant. I love being ignorant when it comes to all this.

So this may be a long one since this is the first day I could type and have watched everything on tv probably 3 times, and I hardly everrrr watched tv before all this -- I'm feeling rather full of myself just because I got topped off with enough platelets to keep me clotty for the next 3 days.

Latest stats:
today before transfusion @ 17k
after bag one transfusion 29k
after bag two transfusion 79k

For the last 6 months, my life has been a dogtrot on the highway. I thought the worst thing that could happen was when my dad died in July. But actually, he was such a good man, I was left with more peace and laughter than anything else. And I have had the honor to meet so many of my parents' friends, I am overwhelmed daily. It still doesn't mean I don't cry everytime I see something to remind me of him, which is everywhere. But when he died holding my hand, I swear he travelled through me and is still with me today. In the hospital especially, I'd feel like he was peeking out of my face. Mostly reminding me that my mom was with me, and that I promised to look after her. As I was feeling guilty for being sick and helpless the other day, she told me, "I feel guilty. I love to doctor on you. It's all I know." Well, I'll be damned. When I told my dad right before he died that I'd take care of her, I had no idea we'd be looking after each other like this. So Daddy...you knew, but man, thanks for not telling me. Airborne.

Of course, hallucinate with a blood pressure of 210 over 120 two nights in a row until 5am and you start collecting truths -- everything leading up to this since July -- my father dies, my disk finally herniates, I get *restructured* from a company with no structure and a job that was slowly killing me, and a couple of other things along the way that are way petty have now turned to nothing but trivial -- my life has changed 180 degrees, and despite it all, I take it as positive. Plus, this may have been one hell of a way to go about it, but hey, I'm off caffeine these days. Just tell me I can't find a positive note, I dare ya!

Even though I could drink red wine until the cows came home and have always tended to eat healthy, decent foods (stopped eating red meat toward the end here and prefer vegan alternatives), I have to tell you this -- if it'd help me make platelets, I might hit a cow square in the face with a shovel now. I'd feel really bad about it, but I'd just have to get over it.

My new best friends, and you should think about befriending them to, they are Good For You and Yes, I Actually Care:

Low sodium food -- there's a huge variety to choose from that have vastly improved like Lean Cuisine, South Beach, Healthy Choice, Campbell Advance -- you know, if this was the 50s, I'd die from starvation and boredom because all they had back then was celery, buttermilk, cottage cheese and Menthol cigarettes.

Low sodium/No Caffeine drinks like Sprite Zero, Sierra Mist Free, and Diet Rite Raspberry

Complete All-Bran Cereal (choke it down on top of ice cream. Hey. Calcium)

Great Harvest local bakery -- I just can't even begin to describe that place but I will go into later, because you need to know about it.

More new best friends, Rx in nature:
Protonix for that acid reflux which does feel heart attacky

Lassex injectable diurectics (warm dose goes to face, then down to feet, then up to Harry Potter's Platform 9 3/4ths, so grab the ole Mike Watowski for the Porcelain Waltz.)

Hydrocholorthiazide, for high blood pressure and being able to remember such a word makes you an instant, yet boring, dollar-store sesquipedalian at the next office meeting.

Ambien

and the lovely and always noble Prince Valium.

Loritab is nice as well.

Don't Go Ask Alice. Just Ask Me.


Scheduled to stay in the hospital only 4 days, I had to stay 7 days which was a-ok to me, as long as they were monitoring me. To spare you the details but to explain a bit, I went through a treatment of 4 days worth of bagged IV drip chemo meds called ATGam. Along with the bags, I took two doses, 12 hours apart, of Cyclosporin. The two together were like and atomic bomb. And I'm not joking about this, the hospital food was so good, but I think it was a huge factor in my problems. I never in a year eat the foods they serve -- rich foods like biscuits and yeast rolls, fried catfish if you can believe that, and desserts that I have only twice a year. This could explain my anemia, but no. It was almost 3 days into before I saw a piece of wheat bread. At that point, I almost wept.

In retrospect, I'm sure I probably did. The steroids were massive injections, and they made me bawl like a baby. But I got to hold my stuffed tiger baby,"Killer", named after my Auntie Kay. He's almost as good a hugger as she is. Thank you for my roaring antibody Killer, Kay.

Oh, but I have a new best friend/nagging neighbor -- the PICC line in my right arm. It's a permanent fixture in my right arm for as long as my body can stand it. My body better be stronger than me, because I keep having thoughts of "eewwwwwwwwwwww" everytime I look at it. I can't lift my right arm over my head because I spring a leak and freak out. Problem is, they sutured it the second day I had it, and I was beginning to swell to 16 pounds over 2 days. The nurse who sewed it in didn't even give me a stick to bite on when she did it. "You should feel a slight pinch...did that hurt?" You know, any professional I have mentioned that to since gives me The Look, saying she was way rude to suture me without candy. But can I tell you what works for me? Staring at a point very far away in the sky and watching clouds turn inside out. Honestly. Oh, that and my blissful ignorance. Key for me is ignorance.

I nicknamed my IV pole Mike Watowski, since he is of Polish descent. He was my New Year's Eve date. He was a lot better than the first IV pole I had, named Larry. He squeaked like a bad shopping cart, so he had to go.

Besides wetwipes at rib joints, you know what else I will never again take for granted? Peeing without dragging around a pole named Mike Watowski in the bathroom with you. But I tell you, I'm not here to complain, just explain. Every person who took care of me, except for that charge nurse who came in with a syringe of morphine and a threat, was straight from God. There's no way I can tell you how divine those people were -- friends and staff from God. And that is not the Valium talking. It's just a side of good I haven't seen in so long in my industry, my bones longed for it literally and figuratively, I didn't think it still existed. But thank God, it does. I'm in to repay.

Long update, but I'll blame the steroids. Lucky for you, I have a block of "Frasier" to watch before I dose myself up for the nightynight. What's next for me: Bi-weekly tranfusions of platelets until I make my own, which may take up to 3 months to get rebooted in my buttbone. I don't want to know what happens if they don't reboot, so as far as I am concerned, it's not "if" but "when".

This Immune Thrombocytopenic Purpura, how did all this happen? The professional and expert answer is, "It just happens."