on the ground with no recollection how it came to be. No wait that was me the other saturday night. No, it weren't like that exactly. I was at home relaxing in the garden...
Day 70 since last blog entry; during that time many tests and consults (a few insults:I got my shots in too) ultimately learned plenty and chose to forego the stem cell harvest. I realized at this stage (pun alert) of the game there was no way I would choose a transplant. Nothing at all against anyone who is, has, or may be soon. Best of luck and prayer and whatever else you've got, like the doc told me, you're gonna need it. I'm about 45 days out from my first maintenance infusion of rituximab which had been combined with the bendamustine originally. I get those every 60 days for a year. Some uncomfortable side effects but not like "chemo."
Now there might have been some mention of the calcification that sometimes occurs with the rituximab, but you certainly don't notice that when the chemo is so obliterating of everything else.
Note that I did not publish this immediately and I have no idea how much time has elapsed since I began this entry. I could do the math but... I am 2 days away from my next infusion.
I notice that life has changed for me, there really is no going back. Even with surviving my recovery is slower than I thought myself capable. I need to give myself more time to do anything. For a 5 minute task I better schedule an hour, time to think it over and time to rest when done. Will I tackle anything else afterward? No way to know for sure, everything is different. "Different," I try to define that and it is amorphous defying definition. It is uncharted territory. How do I feel? How IS IT that I feel? So much has changed, more inwardly than outwardly, and I feel it ain't done yet.
