I woke up this morning pain free for the first time in about a month.  My ears were ringing from the ibuprofen and there was a dull ache behind my left eye from the scotch that washed the ibuprofen down.  But the back pain that had kept me awake the last two nights was gone.  And more than that, my swollen hands and wrists were close to normal size and able to open wide and close tight.

Maybe I’d turned the corner.

It was a far cry from just two days ago when the cry was of pain and misery and just plain sorrow.  Sitting in a recliner at the infusion center in the hospital, still wrapped in blankets though the uncontrollable chills had passed, an IV attached to the back of my hand, I was not a happy camper.   “He seems a bit depressed.”

Depressed?  Me?  Why would I be depressed?  I have incurable leukemia, am four years out from chemotherapy for a disease with a five year survival rate of seventy percent.  My bone marrow never really recovered from the chemo and my immune system hovers just slightly above bubble boy.  When my granddaughter came home with an innocent little childhood virus it appears to have picked me as its next victim and threw me on my ass.

My hands swelled up like the Michelin man.  I squeezed the rings off my fingers the first night just before my knuckles disappeared.  My watch that usually hung fashionably from my wrist now clung to it like it was painted on, until I could not wear it any more.  I didn’t sleep much because every time I moved in bed my hands got in the way of something and woke me up.  Throwing the covers back to get up was painful.  My ankles and knees started to ache.  I swore that if this ever cleared up I would go back to doing crunches and exercises so I could stand up without pushing myself off the chair with my hands; hands that aren’t capable of pushing anything anymore.

I went to see my primary care doctor who mostly puzzled over it and ordered some blood tests.  He’s careful about doing much of anything for much of anything without consulting my cancer doctor because I don’t react to normal treatments in normal ways.  (The last time I took an anti-viral pill for a little canker sore on my tongue I was in the hospital with pneumonia for a week.  Seems the pill reduced my white cell count even further and in walked the pneumonia.  Who knew?)

Anyway, the blood test didn’t say anything about the swollen hands but my cancer doctor saw the numbers and called to say he wanted to do a bone marrow biopsy.  Again.  This will help my swollen hands and pain exactly how?  It won’t, but my red cell count and platelets were way down and he wanted to know why.  The Internet says that’s one thing that happens when adults get this virus from kids so it made sense to me, but he was looking for other answers.  He’s all about blood cancer.  And when you’re a hammer the whole world’s a nail.

So we do the biopsy.  Actually the nurse practitioner did the biopsy.  My part is to lie on my side with my legs curled up toward my chest.  I’m used to it, but they always seem to forget they have a hell of a time getting this done on me.  Something about a strong pelvic bone.  The first time she tried to drive the spike into my hip, it bent.  I suggested that maybe she had hit a knot but she didn’t understand.  I guess she didn’t take wood shop.

The results come back and I’m told I have red cell aplasia.  Which means something is preventing my blood from making red cells.  The treatment is intravenous immunoglobulin.  They think.  They’ve hardly ever encountered this before in a leukemia patient.  From what I hear they’re all atwitter over it.  I just want to use my hands again one day.

That gets us back to the infusion center and the IV and the blankets.  See, I got a reaction to the immunoglobulin and it gave me a headache and the worst chills you can imagine. Tears ran down my cheeks.   So here’s a fucking news flash for you—I’m depressed.

I’d be suicidal but it’s redundant.

But then I got up Friday and the swelling was gone.  Today the backache is gone.  I’m going to mow the lawn, clean the pool and after my nap, because I’m still anemic as all get out, I might hit a bucket of balls.

It’s a beautiful day. Let’s go outside and play.