Today was sort of high and low. It was one of my "trigger" days. January 13. The day that Bob got the stem cell transplant that was supposed to save his life. Before we knew that things were going to go wrong.
The hospital makes a big deal of transplant day. After the transplant itself (which consisted of hanging the bag of bone marrow and infusing it, much like a standard transfusion) the entire staff on duty comes into the room, singing "Happy Birthday" (because this is considered to be a new birthday). There was cake. There was a bag of presents - a warm lap blanket, a donated crocheted hat (although he still had his hair, it was going to be gone soon). A stone amulet with the work "Hope" engraved on it. Beads. Other trinkets.
And a medi alert bracelet. This is when I saw his face change a little. He was told he would have to wear that, so that in case there was an accident, or any reason that he would ever need a transfusion, the hospital would know to use irradiated blood. I think that's when it hit home that although at the time we both thought he would survive, he knew his life would be changed. He had been told that he would have to avoid being out in the sun overmuch (because it could trigger a graft vs. host syndrome, where his new immune system could attack him). He would still have to follow the special diet because he would be immune compromised. Be careful of physical contact (this was a couple of months before Covid, when *everybody* had to start being careful of contact). He had listened to all these warnings, and nodded, and somehow thought that in some way he would still make a full recovery, but there was something about knowing that he would have to wear the that made him realize that his life was forever changed. I could see it in his face and eyes.
God, but I miss those eyes. I miss being in the hospital with him. At least there, I was with him. I was important. I could to be the strong one, the optimistic one. I could help him, encourage him. We were together.
So yeah - I knew today would be rough. And it was. Went to bed about 2 am last night. Got up, took care of cats and chickens, made breakfast, and sort of just sat and stared at the computer for awhile. Finally, about noon, got off the couch.
But then I got better. Did the normal morning routine of cleaning litter boxes, running the vacuum, doing some dishes. Washed my sheets and blanket (Tula had been drooling on them). Went outside and got a good fire going and picked up yard trash. When I figured I had enough going for awhile, I weed whacked until the battery ran out, then fixed some lunch (bananas and strawberries and cottage cheese) and read by the fire for awhile. Got up and cleaned the chicken coop. Walked a mile (three laps around the property). I had let Hamish out - he has been so very frustrated by being cooped up indoors, and he loved it. And I loved having a happy companion. When I finally decided to put out the fire and come back inside, I decided to let him stay out a little bit longer.
I came in and did something I've been meaning to do for awhile. The old goat shed, which had become yet another repository for stuff that should have been thrown away but "might be useful someday" had finally collapsed a few weeks ago. Tearing it down and hauling everything off is a bit too much of a job for me. So I finally sent a note (to the guy who tore down my old deck and built a new one) to see if he could recommend someone to hire).
That's when it went downhill. After writing the note, ennui set in again. I read FB. Played a couple of rounds of sudoku. Dozed a bit. Then it hit me - it was now dark, and Hamish was still outside. I ran out and called him - nothing.
I tried not to panic. I did a circuit of the property, calling. Thinking that this is how I had lost Wilhelm - he had slipped out after dark and I never saw him again. But it was only 6:00. I gathered the eggs and put the chickens up. It's better to call cats intermittently (because they tune you out if you call constantly). So I went inside for a few minutes to feed the cats and put the sheets back on the bed. But by now I was in a panic, and berating myself. How the hell could I be so irresponsible? To sit and play computer games, leaving him outside. When that was how I had lost Wilhelm. And it's bad enough that I'm going to lose Tula. How could I do this?
I went back out, called some more. I checked the barn. Nothing. I came out of the barn and he was standing there. I picked him up. I cried a little. We came in, and I fixed some dinner, my hands shaking. And hit the wine. I had been so scared.
I was going to write this, and then watch another episode of a show Ebaida recommended - Discovery of Witches. But Robert and Amanda called - and they usually talk for at least an hour. During which the wine high faded and I was just trying to focus and stay awake. I still wanted to get this written, because doing the brain dump is helping.
In general, a good day. I got some yard work done and burned off. I did some reading. I got quality time with Hamish (indoors he's grumpy and frustrated and sometimes even attacks me. Outdoors, he's happy). Chicken coop was cleaned and I made a step, at least, about getting the shed removed. I still can't believe I was irresponsible enough to leave Hamish out after dark - from now on, when I come in, he comes in. But he's curled up sleeping and looks happy. At the moment Tula is all right - the lump is obvious but she's still eating well and enjoying the special treatments (as well as the usual canned food twice a day, she's getting a Sheeba as a treat in the afternoon, and I'm grinding up her pill and mixing into Gerber baby chicken and she likes that too). Now I'm going to read a little more, and get some sleep. Tomorrow I'm doing a video call with Ebaida - we'll probably watch an episode of Endeavor.
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