The first night in the Transplant unit was a real eye opener. Literally. Besides trying to mentally prepare myself for the next day, the ability to sleep was almost non existent. The nurses and 15th floor personnel were constantly on the move. In and out of rooms, changing IV bags, tending to patients needs and wants and implementing doctors orders. All night long. Then there were the patients. The moaning and groaning of cancer patients in pain and discomfort is something you never want to hear. Calling out for help in the middle of the night. I didnt think that I would ever get used to something like that. Would I become a part of it? I guess time would tell.
It was my turn about every three to four hours. The nurses really did try to slip in and out quietly. It didn’t help. Plus, I was a side or stomach sleeper. I would have to learn to sleep on my back until I got used to the catheter. I had two poles and a double tree of chrome arms hanging over my bed with a plethora of tubes and fluids bags hanging and connecting to my catheter. I would become well versed in the continuous flow of the various times, schedules and types of drugs being delivered to my room and my system. The constant visits to my room also included the drawing of blood to accurately account for my various CBC markers. Unfortunately, this was not able to be done through my chest catheter too often. The phlebotomists would have to poke me a lot. It really, really, sucked.
So, I made it through to the next morning. I probably slept about three to four hours. I would learn to nap during the day. That helped, somewhat. “It was going to be a long two months”, I thought to myself. I couldn’t wait for the morning call from Nick and Lori. I wanted to hear my little buddy’s voice, Lor too. She would be coming down to the hospital a lot for the first week or two. So would my parents and family. My sister Lisa would be coordinating a blood and platelet drive for those essential fluids. Donations by friends would be so important. I would then not have to draw those greatly needed life saving elements from outside blood banks and sources. Her job and the response were overwhelming.
It was still pretty early in the morning. I just had to peer through the window blinds. The ever present Inquirer clock tower wasn’t going anywhere. Six Thirty AM and I knew a couple of things. One…Dr. Topolsky would be coming in with his big ass needles to give me another bone marrow aspiration. Two…I was going to begin my first day of chemotherapy. And Three…Things were never going to be the same again.
Next Up: Chemo…Chemo…Chemo