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| Fruits of our labor |
Trick-or-Treating was tough. It seemed like a lot of walking, and it was cold. I got tired way before my son did. By the time we got back, I was so relieved to be back in a warm house, sipping hot chocolate.
But the evening continued. I made dinner and we carved pumpkins. It was a really long night for me, but, of course, we had fun. After the kids went to bed and everything was cleaned up, I again felt the sweet relief of being still, laying in bed, physically drained, but grateful to have been able to have made another memory with my kids.
The next day, though, I felt really sore. like it-feels-like-I-did-1000-pushups-and-then-got-hit-by-a-mac-truck sore. I still had to go to the lab and get blood drawn. On lab days, I'm supposed to hold my morning medicine until I have the blood drawn, so they can check my immunosuppressant drug levels. I was really tired, so the trip to the lab got delayed until afternoon, and, therefore my am medicine got delayed. Way behind, I went on with the rest of the day and, ultimately, I forgot to take my morning medicine completely.
Aaaargh! When I realized, it was already deep in the afternoon. My nurse had advised me if I miss the dose by more than 6 hrs, to skip it. Disappointed in myself, I planned to take my next dose right after dinner.
Aaaargh, again! After dinner, I fell asleep downstairs, still exhausted from yesterday's "workout." When I woke up hours later, I dutifully carried myself off to bed, still desperate for rest with no recollection of needing to take medicine.
The next morning, I realized I had missed both doses of immunosuppressants the day before. OMG - I don't know how serious this is, but I leave a message for my nurse. I look up signs of rejection and I am relieved that I'm not feeling any (extra) abdominal pain, no fever, no elevated blood sugars. Whew! Feeling like I dodged a bullet, I will NOT allow myself to do this again.
Fast forward to Saturday evening. Now I feel a new pain I haven't felt before. It's sharp, internal and deep, like where I think my new pancreas is located. It becomes bad enough that I decide to take some Vicodin, which I haven't taken for two weeks. I sleep well, but in the morning, I feel the sharp pain again in my pancreas area. I still have no fever and my blood sugar is 79, hmmm.
My day progresses, and I'm still in pain. During the afternoon, I realize I have a fever--its 101.2' A few minutes later, I am sweaty and clammy; it breaks quickly. All of this is very confusing. And I start to get more nervous. My nurse still hasn't called me back. If this is an early sign of rejection, how much time do I have to respond? How long do the immunosuppressant drugs stay in my system? Do I need to go to the ER? Am I freaking out over nothing? Feeling a wide variety of emotions at this point: disappointment, anger, unworthiness, worry, but mainly...fear. Most transplant patients experience some type of rejection in the first year post-transplant, but I am not prepared to follow this trend. How could I have forgotten something so important? Don't I value the gift I've received?
Demoralized and a little desperate, I call my nurse again. No answer. I page the on-call post-transplant nurse. I need info so I can make a decision. It takes a good two minutes(although it feels like 2 hours) for the nurse to call me back. I am so glad to talk with her; she assures me I would have more symptoms, especially the fever. If I was in rejection, it wouldn't have broken on its own. Whew!
So, I take some more Vicodin and resume my day, again relieved. I pause to think about my recent roller coaster of emotions.
I DO value the gift I've been given. I feel lucky and blessed and overwhelmingly grateful. Only this time, it's much more than being grateful for warmth and comfort, I am grateful to be ALIVE and HEALTHY.
Ok, well...working towards HEALTHY, but I am closer than I've been in twenty-two years.
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