Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Three months

I have passed my three-month anniversary of receiving the gift of life. It feels wonderful to no longer be dragging around oxygen and an IV pump. No tubes. No tanks. To actually hop in the shower and not be exhausted and out of breath from simply washing my hair, is a joy. It's freeing to drive again. To get dressed. To bake. To shop.

To breathe. To live.

Quotes about breathing and life are everywhere. I see them on cards, bags, mugs and kitschy decor. "Keep Calm and Breathe." "Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but moments that take your breath away." Somewhere along the way... when the busy me was forced to slow down, when I experienced being unable to breathe and brushed too close to death's door, these quotes made me angry. Darn it, if I could breathe, I could stay calm. And really? The moments that took my breath away were often harrowing! Yes, somewhere along the way, I became protective over such a precious word: breathe.

My appointments at the clinic last week included labs and several tests, one of which was not completed due to complications. So, I must go back soon and have a different procedure. I am not thrilled but all of it--the tests, the bloodwork, the medications, the side effects--is intertwined with transplant. As I mentioned before, I'll never be out of the woods. I was reminded of that the week before my clinic visit.

In preparation for the tests I took myself off of one of the stomach medications, as suggested by the doctor. By mid day I had a slight headache but I did not think much about it because I get headaches on and off relatively frequently. That night, a little after 1:00 a.m., I woke up with a horrible migraine, violent tremors, nausea, and vomiting. I called Cleveland Clinic, talked with the pulmonary fellow on call, and I was told to call my coordinator at 8 a.m. I took my morning pill dose at the suggestion of my coordinator and promptly vomited. It was distressing to see the expensive pills I take to stay alive floating in the toilet bowl water.

Later in the day I was finally able to keep down a bit of food. And, my coordinator suggested skipping my pills for the rest of the days and just restarting everything, including the stomach medication, on schedule the next morning. Thankfully we didn't have to take more drastic measures and the following day I found myself well enough, but tired, sore, weak and emotional.

My coordinator seemed to think the medication levels were off--that I absorbed too much of the anti-rejection medication. My doctor says we won't know since we didn't do bloodwork. And, he's the type of guy to not make assumptions. I like that about him. An overdose of medication? A really bad migraine? A stomach bug? We just don't know. I'm still alive. And breathing. I got through it. So, that's what matters.

The bronchoscopy showed no rejection. When I got the news I was so relieved, as you can probably imagine. I still get pretty anxious waiting for results. Bloodwork revealed a continued strain on the kidneys from the medications. The prednisone was lowered and the diuretics are to be used only when needed in hopes it will take some of the stress off of the kidneys. So, at this point, I'm just trying to stay calm and breathe... since I can.