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BMT Bondage

BMT Bondage

I’m feeling a much better today. I was in such a dark place. Feverish and saddled with abdominal pain and now nine days of diarrhea, To be wheeled from ICU up to the BMT unit was discouraging beyond words. But as so many of reminded me with love and certainty, “It will get better!”

Funny story. My sister, Joan, brought me a strawberry milk shake today. I was also jonesing for a bagel and cream cheese. Heck, forget the bagel; I like to eat the cream cheese straight out of those little plastic cups.

Later in the day I was running out of time to order lunch. I don’t know why, but now I was craving a cheeseburger. The person taking my order paused and said, “I’m sorry, we can’t serve you a cheeseburger. You’re on a lactose restricted diet.” Really? Might have been a good idea to tell me!

None of this means that I’m out of the woods. As long as I have diarrhea, I’m the BMT Unit’s reluctant guest.

They don’t need to tie me up to keep me here, but with IVs started in both wrists, and so many IV bags running all at once, I look and feel like I’m a man in bondage:


One profound question: Why do they always give you the biggest size of everything? My scrubs are big enough for two. My fun tread-on-the-bottom socks are XXLs. By now we all have humorous stories to tell about hospital gowns. I need to wear a sterile hospital gown whenever I leave the room. Staff is required to wear puffy yellow gowns anytime they enter the room–and none of them fit.

I’m anxious to review my ASH notes so I can pass along the information. There is some information there that’s vital for all of us to understand. I’m hoping to start that Monday.

Feel good and keep smiling! Pat