I am sick. There, I said it. I managed to go almost 14 months post transplant without catching a single pedestrian virus or bacterial infection. Almost.
Wednesday I woke up with a sore throat. I didn't think anything of it and chalked it up to mouth breathing while sleeping. It happens. When it didn't resolve within the hour, I called my local oncologist to see if he could fit me in. His schedule was packed, so the scheduler forwarded me to the nurse's voicemail. I left her a list of my symptoms; sore throat, head congestion, no fever.
Sheryl called me back to get a more complete picture of what was going on, then told me to sit tight while she consulted with Dr. B. They would either squeeze me in or call in a prescription.
Chris checked in with me while I waited and I let him in on what was going on. We're both a little gun shy of mysterious sore throats. The first mystery sore throat led to a diagnosis of PTLD after the first transplant. Pre-Lymphoma is a very scary thing. The second mystery sore throat was the leading indicator of relapse.
This sore throat feels nothing like those two. For the first time in forever, this feels like a legitimate cootie. I tried to explain the difference to Chris, but I could see that he wasn't sold on it. He took the rest of the day off of work to come home to monitor me. I felt bad that he did because there wasn't really anything to monitor.
My local team decided to call in a prescription for Z-pak. Sweet, sweet Z-pak. The pharmacy didn't have it ready until almost 5pm and I didn't get out of the house until around 6 to get it.
I've got the first dose under my belt and will take the second later this afternoon. My throat is still sore and phlegmy. My nose is running and my head is still congested. No fevers as of yet and I'm doing my best to stay hydrated.
I've pinpointed the exact person who passed this on to me. It was an old acquaintance that I ran into at the grocery store on Sunday. I hadn't seen her in at least 5 years and she had no idea of what's been going on. She'd already hugged me twice before I realized that she might have a little something. It was when she was walking away that I heard her cough and clear her throat. Grrrr.
I know she had no idea. It's just one of those things that happens innocently enough. I was bound to catch something sooner or later.
The house is a wreck and will continue to be so until I feel a little better. I'm thankful that there are frozen left-overs, so I don't have to actively cook. Unless you count making rice, which I don't.
I did manage to run for the first time in years on Tuesday. It felt like coming home after such a long hiatus. Of course, all of the old complaints made themselves known within minutes. The weak ankles and shoddy left knee that likes to pop every few steps were in full effect. I got in half a mile before I decided to powerwalk the last mile.
I am and will always be a slow runner. At my peak, the best I could do was a seven and a half minute mile. That was in my late teens and early twenties. Those days are long gone. The thirty something me plans on babying her joints and running recreationally. There may be a 5k in my very distant future, but that is it. No marathons here, thank you very much.
This week is a complete wash. I plan on sitting on the couch and knitting until I feel better. Maybe Chris and I will get around to a little furniture shopping this weekend. We still don't have a dining table and the fold up card table in the dining room is starting to look silly. We'll get something in there eventually.
Wednesday I woke up with a sore throat. I didn't think anything of it and chalked it up to mouth breathing while sleeping. It happens. When it didn't resolve within the hour, I called my local oncologist to see if he could fit me in. His schedule was packed, so the scheduler forwarded me to the nurse's voicemail. I left her a list of my symptoms; sore throat, head congestion, no fever.
Sheryl called me back to get a more complete picture of what was going on, then told me to sit tight while she consulted with Dr. B. They would either squeeze me in or call in a prescription.
Chris checked in with me while I waited and I let him in on what was going on. We're both a little gun shy of mysterious sore throats. The first mystery sore throat led to a diagnosis of PTLD after the first transplant. Pre-Lymphoma is a very scary thing. The second mystery sore throat was the leading indicator of relapse.
This sore throat feels nothing like those two. For the first time in forever, this feels like a legitimate cootie. I tried to explain the difference to Chris, but I could see that he wasn't sold on it. He took the rest of the day off of work to come home to monitor me. I felt bad that he did because there wasn't really anything to monitor.
My local team decided to call in a prescription for Z-pak. Sweet, sweet Z-pak. The pharmacy didn't have it ready until almost 5pm and I didn't get out of the house until around 6 to get it.
I've got the first dose under my belt and will take the second later this afternoon. My throat is still sore and phlegmy. My nose is running and my head is still congested. No fevers as of yet and I'm doing my best to stay hydrated.
I've pinpointed the exact person who passed this on to me. It was an old acquaintance that I ran into at the grocery store on Sunday. I hadn't seen her in at least 5 years and she had no idea of what's been going on. She'd already hugged me twice before I realized that she might have a little something. It was when she was walking away that I heard her cough and clear her throat. Grrrr.
I know she had no idea. It's just one of those things that happens innocently enough. I was bound to catch something sooner or later.
The house is a wreck and will continue to be so until I feel a little better. I'm thankful that there are frozen left-overs, so I don't have to actively cook. Unless you count making rice, which I don't.
I did manage to run for the first time in years on Tuesday. It felt like coming home after such a long hiatus. Of course, all of the old complaints made themselves known within minutes. The weak ankles and shoddy left knee that likes to pop every few steps were in full effect. I got in half a mile before I decided to powerwalk the last mile.
I am and will always be a slow runner. At my peak, the best I could do was a seven and a half minute mile. That was in my late teens and early twenties. Those days are long gone. The thirty something me plans on babying her joints and running recreationally. There may be a 5k in my very distant future, but that is it. No marathons here, thank you very much.
This week is a complete wash. I plan on sitting on the couch and knitting until I feel better. Maybe Chris and I will get around to a little furniture shopping this weekend. We still don't have a dining table and the fold up card table in the dining room is starting to look silly. We'll get something in there eventually.