My neutrophil count, which went to zero yesterday, is back at 10. They have to be at 500 for me to go home. White blood cell count continues to rise, and is now at 1.4. The doctor tells me that as the stem cells proliferate into white blood cells, there's a hierarchy. Lymphocytes first, monocytes next, and neutrophils are further down the line. Hopefully, that 10 is the beginning of a rise.
On the other hand, I don't want to lose sight of the fact that getting out of here as quickly as possible is not my purpose. I have a road to walk, following the Spirit of God, and if he's not in a hurry to get me out of here, then I don't need to be, either.
|Finally remembered to get a picture of Jerry|
Don, too. He got his stem cell transplant, which is from his own stem cells harvested when he was in remission, is today. There's no danger of rejection because they're his own. I guess you can just pray that it takes, and he'll spend the next year or two waiting to see if it really did as indicated by his lymphoma not returning. His lymphoma manifested as a brain tumor ... twice. He said it was really unpleasant, and he'd like never to have to do that again.
The Fun Stuff
This morning, as I was walking, Dr. Watson stopped me and said he wanted to introduce me to someone. He brought me to a room, and we both performed our obligatory duty of washing our hands in the antibacterial foam. Then he opened the door, and Dr. Watson introduced me to Mr. Darcy.
I guess there's no need to sneak off to a movie; apparently I'm in one!
It seems Mr. Darcy just got here, and Dr. Watson was telling him I'm an old-timer now, and I can "show him the ropes." I'm not as outgoing by nature as I've been acting for about 25 years, so that made me a bit nervous. I introduced myself, told him what room I was in, and told him he could feel free to give me a holler any time.
|Don and I; a nurse called us "the toxic twins."|
We went for a walk afterwards, and we ran into Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. I had seen Mrs. Darcy this morning riding on the exercise bike, reading a book. She's a little older than me, but she was cruising right along.
As it turns out, Mrs. Darcy is a marathoner who's run in the Boston marathon before. She used to run up to 100 miles per week, but she's down to 30 or 40 now. She still runs 10K's, and likes to hang out at the parties afterward, though she doesn't drink.
She, Don, and I talked for what must have been a half an hour, hanging out in front of one of the nurses stations, which are at every corner of the square set of halls that make up 11 North.
Lunch is about to come, and I don't think I've been in my room at all this morning. In fact ...
I opened it, held it with a sense of awe and joy that I'm sure approaches idolatry and I probably need to repent of, and then plugged it in to let it charge. I then resisted the temptation to play with my new toy ... uh, tool ... and left it to go see Jerry so I could catch him before lunch and his biopsy soon afterward.
A chaplain was there, a friend of the pastor of the church that Dump--and I think Jerry, too, though I'm pretty sure Dump (Jerry's brother) is the more faithful one--attends back in their little community of Harman, VA.
|This is Dump, Jerry's brother|
And now, I'm finally back in my room trying out my new, uh, tool. I have to figure out what the equivalent of a "home" and "end" key is on a Mac yet, but I'll figure it out eventually.
I also have to get my fingernails clipped so I don't cut up these new keys with my razor-sharp nails! They won't let me clip my nails while I'm neutropenic. I'm supposed to just file them!
I have to admit I may break that rule this afternoon.
I've never cut myself clipping my nails in my whole life, I think, and I've been on this planet for half a century now.