(no subject)
Two and a half weeks until my next (and hopefully last) hospital incarceration. I told everyone the first time that I didn't plan on being in the hospital again until I was giving birth (somewhere like 8 years from now) but they don't let you do things like get organ transplants outpatient. Understandable.
BUT! This means I get to do exciting things like go to Tim and Anna's wedding (while wearing a fancy mask, of course), use my Billy Elliot tickets, go bridesmaid dress shopping with Claire, celebrate Dad's birthday, prove to Laura that I didn't kick the bucket during the 6 weeks that she was gone and as such I'll still be fine in 4 more weeks when she moves back to the US for good, and other sorts of exciting things.
I fear I may be getting too blase about cancer as I have not had too many problems. Aside from the semi-permanent tube in my arm and the fact that my hair is much thinner, I don't look any different or really feel any different than before. I suppose I probably couldn't go running - I might notice that and get tired sooner - but as it's off of my permitted activities, I haven't had the chance to test it out. I keep going at everything like I've got all the time in the world - and if everything goes to plan, I should - but maybe I shouldn't be taking this so lightly?
The transplant has a 15% mortality rate for adults under 65, which is better than just doing chemo for the rest of my life, surely, but there is still the risk that something could go wrong. Also the fact that there just aren't any people who've had this and then gone on and lived another 89 years, as I plan to (if I make it to 112 and a half then I can say I've lived in 3 centuries, which would be pretty sweet, I think). There aren't people who had this done when they were in their twenties and who are now grandparents in their sixties because forty years ago this procedure didn't exist. Sigh. Being an anomaly (young, healthy, and female) means that there are like no studies done or statistics for people in my position. Even the study my doctor quoted with the 15% mortality rate had a median age of participants at 48... and their "survival" rate just meant that they were alive 5 years after the procedure. While living for the next 5 years would be fantastic, it'd be much better if I could get at least 50 more.
BUT! This means I get to do exciting things like go to Tim and Anna's wedding (while wearing a fancy mask, of course), use my Billy Elliot tickets, go bridesmaid dress shopping with Claire, celebrate Dad's birthday, prove to Laura that I didn't kick the bucket during the 6 weeks that she was gone and as such I'll still be fine in 4 more weeks when she moves back to the US for good, and other sorts of exciting things.
I fear I may be getting too blase about cancer as I have not had too many problems. Aside from the semi-permanent tube in my arm and the fact that my hair is much thinner, I don't look any different or really feel any different than before. I suppose I probably couldn't go running - I might notice that and get tired sooner - but as it's off of my permitted activities, I haven't had the chance to test it out. I keep going at everything like I've got all the time in the world - and if everything goes to plan, I should - but maybe I shouldn't be taking this so lightly?
The transplant has a 15% mortality rate for adults under 65, which is better than just doing chemo for the rest of my life, surely, but there is still the risk that something could go wrong. Also the fact that there just aren't any people who've had this and then gone on and lived another 89 years, as I plan to (if I make it to 112 and a half then I can say I've lived in 3 centuries, which would be pretty sweet, I think). There aren't people who had this done when they were in their twenties and who are now grandparents in their sixties because forty years ago this procedure didn't exist. Sigh. Being an anomaly (young, healthy, and female) means that there are like no studies done or statistics for people in my position. Even the study my doctor quoted with the 15% mortality rate had a median age of participants at 48... and their "survival" rate just meant that they were alive 5 years after the procedure. While living for the next 5 years would be fantastic, it'd be much better if I could get at least 50 more.