Basically, the nurses and doctors tell us that I’m doing very well. Throughout the high dose chemo and yesterday’s stem cell transplant, my vital signs remained steady, I didn’t spike any fevers, the quantities of IV fluids didn’t compromise my heart or lungs, etc.
However…! There’s no escaping the reality of chemo side effects (so far mostly incipient nausea and fatigue) and low blood counts (more fatigue). It’s very strange to feel soooo tired, especially as it’s expected to get even worse before it gets better.
In my last update, I wrote: From that point on, it’s simply a matter of managing any side effects from the chemo and waiting for my stem cells to get to work rebuilding my immune system.
What I’m realizing now is that it’s not so simple. Not having energy is a serious downer and I can feel the pull to worry about how much worse it could get. So then I have to breathe in and out in order to stay in the present moment. Because, since I can’t bypass this process, I have to keep raising my energy to embrace the karma.
I also want to say how much I appreciate all the messages of support — emails, e-cards, texts, poems, gifts, stories, you name it! I wish I could keep up with replying to each one, but I know you all understand it’s not possible.
Transplant was Day 0, so now I’m on Day +1. There probably won’t be much more to share until I get past Day +5. Thank you for your continuing prayers.
I knew going in what the various components would be but I could never have imagined how it would actually feel.
It started, of course, with the high dose chemo; was followed by lots and lots of IV fluids; then the stem cells were transplanted back into my body.
But what puts it all over the top is the reality of being in a bed in a hospital room for hours every day. Today was from 7:30am to 6:00pm, for example (although it was the longest and unlikely to be repeated).
So, despite doing nothing but lying around all day, I’m exhausted. Nighty night.
Tonight was the conclusion of our second annual “AUM Guru Chant Vigil” and I’m feeling particularly grateful for it.
Why?
Well, Ramesha and I were already tuned in when the vigil started (immediately after the event celebrating Swami Kriyananda’s 74th discipleship anniversary), and I listened to “Aum Guru” from then until bedtime.
Upon waking, the first thing I became aware of was “Aum Guru”.
We turned back on the vigil as we got ready in the morning and continued listening to it throughout our eight hours in the AIM clinic (more hydration!).
In fact, whenever I started feeling a little fed up with lying on the hospital bed connected to tubes for hour after hour, I would tune back into the chanting and think of Master and Swamiji and the many, many blessings in my life and I wouldn’t feel fed up anymore.
So, I feel like this chant vigil really did help me during an important moment in time. And I hope it did the same for many others as well.
Perfect timing as in the divine timing of being blessed to receive my high dose chemo on this auspicious date of September 12, the day in 1948 that Swami Kriyananda met Paramhansa Yogananda for the first time and became his lifelong disciple.
With Swamiji’s inspiring example before me, I recommit to giving everything to God — body, mind, soul, cancer, chemo, loved ones, music, attachments, favorite foods, past and future — EVERYTHING.
Tonight I find myself thinking of the day before Christmas when I was a child. Or how my fifteen-year-old-self felt in the days leading up to my first trip to Europe. The anticipation, the preparation, the nerves.
I’m feeling a lot of similarities on this, the final day before my bone marrow transplant week begins. The main difference, of course, being that I was entirely happy and eager about Christmas and that trip to Europe, while a bone marrow transplant inspires a rather more complex mix of feelings. 😏
At any rate, it’s finally here and we’re feeling pretty ready.
A quick recap of what’s ahead:
Tomorrow (Monday, September 12) is when I receive a high dose of chemotherapy. Even though the actual infusion will only take about thirty minutes, I’ll be at the hospital for a good portion of the day due to necessary preparations beforehand (blood draws, tests, hydration, pre-meds, etc.) and afterwards (more of the same).
Tuesday, September 13 is a “rest” day, but we’ll still report to the hospital first thing in the morning for tests, hydration, etc.
Wednesday, September 14 is the actual transplant (or “replant”), when they infuse my stem cells back into my body. That’ll be another long day.
From that point on, it’s simply a matter of managing any side effects from the chemo and waiting for my stem cells to get to work rebuilding my immune system.
Because of the Labor Day holiday we had a bit of a break after the stem cell collection, so we tried to make the best use of our time to stock up on groceries, catch up on tasks, and record a couple of videos.
The topic of the last Sunday service we attended before leaving for Sacramento was “How Should We Meet Our Tests?” Not surprisingly, it hit pretty close to home, and we were inspired to perform a medley of three songs which we felt conveyed the essence of how to successfully meet one’s tests: guidance from God and Gurus; being part of a spiritual community; and music — especially singing!
Many people shared that they really resonated with those songs, so we decided to create a video of the medley to share with everyone.
And that’s it for now. As always, thank you for your prayers and loving support.
These last few days before the bone marrow transplant are feeling rather strange, so I find myself processing, in ways both nurturing and slightly less so.
Realizing it was my last chance for at least a month, I took a chance on a local salon and enjoyed a wonderful pedicure. I especially enjoyed having my feet encased in plastic bags filled with some sort of heated and scented oil. A wonderfully nurturing treat.
Slightly less nurturing is the way I find myself reverting to “treating” myself with less-than-optimal food choices. But I refuse to make a big deal about it because I know it’s just a temporary coping mechanism.