Fresh blood to feel better

Tomorrow I get a blood transfusion. Yippee! I am nervous about the risks but my hemoglobin counts are just too low (8.9) My blood is lousy, need some new and improved blood from a healthy (we hope) person. I Had big trouble falling asleep last night and hope it's because the shot they gave me for hemoglobin is also working to build red blood cells. I also hoped this would mean I'd wake up feeling better. Alas, not to be. I am still quite tired and feel lousy. The nausea is better, which is a huge blessing. I am not in much pain. But there is still that thing called malaise, just feeling unwell. Lousy. Yesterday, they drew my blood and gave me chemo. Quite concerned about how pale I was and my reports of feeling awful, they gave me a shot and ordered the transfusion. The shot effects should be longer and the transfusion works right away, so the combination is best. My Dad and Margaret arrived here on Friday afternoon after driving cross-country. Hey had a wonderful trip, each praising the other for being a great traveling companion. They listened to books on tape, talked and were quiet together. Dad was especially impressed by Margaret's driving skills and her ability to be ready in exactly 20 minutes after he knocked each morning. It was the longest time they had spent alone together, and I know both of them thought it was terrific. Mom must have appreciated some help at the end of a pretty rough weak, as I was mainly bedridden and pretty miserable. She was a great help, taking care of everything and sympathizing with my frustration and despair when things kept getting worse. Over the weekend, I had a low-grade fever, pain and tons of nausea. Boy, is it hard not to get really bummed out. Adding Margaret and Dad to the mix might have made it harder, in some ways, with all of us in the same space. I think what really helped was Mom finally finding her way to the larger pool here and doing some great swimming. It's hard for the caregivers to take care of themselves. Margaret is very smart about that, swimming and working out almost every day. My parents left early Monday morning and my dear friend Kathrin arrived that evening from Germany. She and I met when she was an exchange student in my high school. We were in the chorus together and have kept in touch every since, even with long, long gaps during which we didn't see each other. When we moved to Brussels in 2001, we took many opportunities to renew our friendship, visiting her in Munich and having her with us. Since then, we've managed to get together almost yearly. Still, it was a surprise when she offered to fly here for a week. I'm afraid it's not much of a vacation for her, but she is cheerful and claims to be enjoying the total relaxation here. Joseph arrives this afternoon. I am excited, since I haven't seen him since Christmas. By all reports, he is doing very well, enjoying his internship at Abbott labs and plenty of time at the beach. He spends some nights every week with Devra and Sergey and some home with Steve, who is enjoying their dinners together. The other day, I was at a very low point, when the misery of how I was feeling and the fear that the treatment wasn't working. I knew the stress of despair and anger were not helping me, but could not find a way out of the blackness. And, suddenly, I had a thought. My life is not a book, or a movie, or a play. It's not the end that matters. When you die, how you die, is just one more event. A thing that happens. A thing that does not necessarily have more meaning than anything else. Of course, death is the big event that annihilates everything that would have come after, the killer of potential events. But it does not need to effect those that came before it. So that's my goal, to step out of the shadow that the fear or dying can cast backwards onto my days. Not easy, of course, but it helps to tell myself "it isn't the ending that matters." Its hard to live in the moment when the moments contain pain, nausea and feeling crappy. But there are times when none of the above is too bad, and I can breathe and enjoy being alive. Right now is one of them and I'm grateful. Grateful for Kathrin, Margaret and Butters nearby, for Joseph in the air heading towards us, for all of you reading this. It is good.