Summer, Blood and Boobs. It's all Good

This summer was dreamy. It was a summer where you say to yourself, "If I survive this transplant, I want to have a summer just like this one..." We travelled like crazy. Some short trips, some long. To Rome, Paris, Greece, Scotland, NY and CA.  It was a post-transplant travel extravaganza. Everyday I wake up and life is like this giant cup cake I just want to gobble. 

So, it's officially post Labor Day in the US.  And I guess that means summers' wind-down. There were things about London today that reminded me so much of NY autumns. Golden light. Long shadows. It made me think of corduroys and looseleaf.  And of grabbing whatever remainders of summer you can.  Today I played tennis and walked everywhere, as much as I could. I went in for my Azacytadine shot and they were so pleased to see me in my tennis outfit. I secrectly knew they would be. It's got to feel great for a healthcare provider to see a patient doing really well. What a great field to be in...medicine. If you're in on the right side of it, boy, you can really contribute to the world.

I had a recent biopsy in NY with Dr. Giralt, on August 22nd.  He was kind enough to email me two days later with initial results that there was NO evidence of AML.  AT ALL!!! None! Complete remission. And although I kinda sorta knew that, having a biopsy is nerve wracking and always throws me back into the throes of worry and fears. I can't help but brace myself for the worst.  I think it's because I never felt sick from the stupid disease. It was never something I could gage within myself. I couldn't judge whether something made me feel better or worse. The stupid disease would just creep back on me.  But now, I've got kick-ass donor cells that ain't gonna put up with that monkey business.  I am thrilled. Just thrilled. And I'm completely in awe of my donor, my doctors, my family, my friends, for staying so strong during this nighmare and holding me so tight as I had to go through this. 

I had a complete check-up and check-down while I was in NY. And I had the great big boob smash. Mammagrams are tough!  The woman conducting my tests was cleverly very chatty. She keep me distracted. She was also a massage therapist and herbalist. Then the eek eek ow! That was when she stopped the masher and went off and took a picture. They squeeze your poor booby between two glass plates until you can't stand it anymore. That's when they stop to scan you. Women just by nature of what our bodies do, have to have a high high tolerance for pain. Otherwise we'd have underpopulation and a lot of beaten up mammographers...