I Want It

All I want is that transplant.  Dealing with disappointment just ain’t easy.  We have a running joke at our house based on Ari’s favorite phrases: “It’s not fair”, “It’s my turn” and “I’m scared”.   It’s kind of funny because he usually uses the phrase “I’m scared” in association with things that we ask him to do. For example, “Ari. Please put on your shoes”… “I’m scared!”, he replies.  It’s so absurd we can’t help but break out in laughter. Ari included.  And I’ll usually reply, “Oh my gosh your right! Shoes! Not The Shoes! Anything but The Shoes!!”   But I just can’t tell you how appropriate his little phrasings have been feeling to me lately. “It’s not fair”, “It’s my turn” and “I’m scared”.  And it’s all true. But SO WHAT! Right? Right. 

My friend Heidi used a phrase with her kids, years ago, and when I adopted it for my kids, it totally worked: “You Get What You Get and You Don’t Get Upset”.   I suppose it's easier to accept when it’s just a matter of being handed a lollipop and you’re super concerned about what flavor you get. But it’s not totally lost on more “extreme” cases that are out of your control.   Dwelling on it just makes it worse. It’s like when you’re mad at someone and they don’t even know it. Who feels bad? You! Not them! It’s like, the joke’s on you…

Am I mad at these leukemic cells that decided not to go away with the last round of chemotherapy? Well yeah, but that’s why I’m writing all this, so I can take some of my own advice!  But apparently, THIS round of chemo is working off the old adage: “Don’t Get Mad. Get Even”, or “Revenge Sweet Revenge”.  

To have a transplant I have to have 5% leukemic cells or less.  After this last round, I had between 5-10%. How close is that?!  Jeez! But it is what it is.  Those are the numbers.  So, I’m sure that this round of Revenge Chemo will do the trick. And I say it’s Revenge Chemo rather than just Getting Even Chemo because this stuff PACKS A WHOLLOP!!!  

First, they load me up with anti-sickness medication and then start a drip with literally ¼ cup of the most intense chemo I think I’ve had (although I have no memory left, so I could be wrong).  The minute it goes in, my head starts to spin in that really bad “oh no, I’m in High School and I had one beer too many” kind of a way.  And then my body heats up like I must have accidentally spilled the Tabasco all over my burrito and then ate it anyway. And then I get shaky.  Remember the boys in high school who couldn’t sit still and would shake their leg back and forth under their desks? It’s like that, but out of control. And then the whole thing calms down. 

I have to do that 5 times. And today was day two. So Monday will be the last day of chemo. We’ll wait for my blood counts to go down down down and then back up and then another biopsy, all will be good and then to transplant.  (Keep Calm and Carry On. Do I hear the Queen? )

I bought this beautiful blanket in Marrakech. I’m calling it my Transplant Blanket because it is a super happy blanket; brightly colored and handmade but also modern and soft.  The pattern reminds me of happy blood cells.  It’s bright pink, and orange, and yellow and blue and not anything I’d normally buy. But it was shrieking out to me (in a good way) to take it home.  And if, by the way, you’re ever in Marrakech, and you like beautiful stuff (who doesn’t) go to this shop. It’s called 33 Rue Majorelle. It’s across from the Jardin Marjorelle.  It’s not to be missed. (Bring your wallet).

Here is the lovely Ari modeling my new blanket. Cheerful. No?

xox