Thursday, October 25, 2012

Day 131 - 4/6 chemo's down

Well, I forgot who said it on my last consolidation, but one of the docs said that each consolidation will hit sooner and harder and, yup, they seem to be right. I was so tired that I *couldn't* stay awake during chemo this morning and then after lunch and my very much truncated walk (0.6 or so miles), I felt I had to take a nap *again*. I actually even had a visitor that I slept through which is extremely unlike me so I guess I was really tired!

I did have a couple of local visitors that I was awake for and that was very nice. John, a third year resident friend from a previous admission stopped by with a poster for an ACP conference and I proofread it for him, making little suggestions to make the story clearer. That was fun and I got to chat with him briefly about how he's doing otherwise, how life is, etc. I really liked seeing him.

Marv, the writing coach (?), faclitator (?) stopped by to chat. He had a writing group tonight that he said I could join for the evening and that was fun.

Since there's not much to tell you about today that happened in the outside world, I'll tell you about the state of the marrow space which we have not visited for a long time. At the start of this admission, it was filled with snap dragons of all colors that were really thriving. Somehow it felt important to let the plants know that even though they were being flooded with poison, they were loved and I hoped and expected they'd be back soon. So, I went into the garden and brushed my hand over each of their little tops. This was not what they wanted. Each plant wanted individual acknowledgement and for me to open the top flower on the stalk and put the tip of my index finger inside of it (which I used to always do to snap dragons when I was a little girl). Then, as I floated around the garden (floated so that I did not damage any flowers), I would come upon areas of various sizes on the ground with no growth at all. These areas were areas where the leukemia was hiding and I had to take my (now) real corporeal feet and a shovel that appeared out of nowhere and turn the dirt over to a depth of six inches, break up the clots and leave it alone in order to root out the leukemia. I am always astonished at what comes out of my unconscious mind. The fingers, the floating and the turning over of dirt. What a pleasant way to cure one's cancer!

For tomorrow, for me, I will wish the chemo success in rooting out the hiders. Do you need help rooting out anything? If so, may you get whatever help you would prefer tomorrow.

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