Whas Up? Not Much.

I've been waiting to "report" something, but fortunately nothing is happening, which is a very good thing. Every day I am asked by at least 4 nurses and 2 doctors whether there is any change in my condition/symptoms, etc. Nothing to report. Susan calls me every morning with a question, "how are you?" My daily response: "I'm fine." (under the circumstances) We're waiting for Mike's cells to wake up, although they aren't really expected to show any activity for at least another 4 to 7 days. I'm not bursting with energy but I do manage to get at least a mile's walk in every day, and usually more. In about a week or so we hope to see some activity in the white cell count and then a few weeks later they'll do a DNA test to see if it's Mike's or my cells that are growing. We want Mike's cells to show up and start to take over. Tom and I were talking about how we could provoke Mike into action. We concluded that he is so competitive that the best way to bait him is to tell his cells they aren't strong enough to do this job. I can already see his face getting red as he reads this. The challenge should work.

Two incidents come to mind. First, when we were in high school Mike set the school record for situps (something in the neighborhood of 1000 to 1500). His butt was so sore he could hardly sit for a week. Second, he got in a fight with the school bully and got punched in the nose and had his nose broken. Mike looked in the mirror, saw his nose off to one side, walked over to the well built bully and said, "you broke it, you fix it. Push it back in place." And by god, he did and then he sat down and cried and cried, with Mike standing there looking at him. For those who don't know him, his self annointed nickname in high school was "muscles Mike." Later he changed it to "big fella". Interesting, tough, and stubborn fella. There are an equal number of stories about brother Tom, but I'll save them for another day. And as for my sister, Kathy, well she chose to pursue a quieter life, or perhaps I just don't know about her secret life.

Susan pushed me into attending an exercise class here, with the promise that she would go with me. So there we are, all sitting in a hallway with our IV poles at our sides. The instructor starts out with a game to get to know each other and I think I've taken a ride in the way back machine and am back in first grade. Halfway through the "tell us 2 truths and a dream" Susan leans over and confesses that she can't take this and has to leave. "Say what" I say. "You made me come to this and now you're leaving?" She sits down. Five minutes later she's up (we're still playing the game) and she tells me she is definitely leaving. My response: "but you'll miss the shuffleboard game." She left. I stayed, but I don't think I'm a better man for it.

Now, back to this 10x10 room. I'm ready to get out. I'm tired of the menu, but thankfully don't have much of an appetite. I'm longing for a good night's sleep without interruptions to draw blood and check my vitals. I'm tired of being tethered to an IV pole (a ball and chain come to mind). Showering with these tubes coming out of my chest into my IV is quite an experience. and as my mother used to say: I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. But these complaints are minor and I know I can put up with this. Just venting. Susan is an angel. She takes such good care of me and daily I am grateful I have such a good partner who willingly gives up her life to travel to such beautiful vacation retreats as Little Rock and Houston (for the summer).

Thank you everyone for keeping us going. We love you.
Dan