It's days away from being two years since I was diagnosed and flown away by helicopter. When I was wisked away I though I'd be home and back in commission in 3 months. Talk about not getting the severity of what they were going to do to me. When I initially asked they wouldn't talk about it. It would have been nice if someone had said, hey! You're almost dead but not quite so we are going to poison you almost to the point of no return and then change your DNA, Have a nice day:)
I guess not everyone is into brutal eye gouging honesty.
Anyway, two years later I'm finally starting to feel better! Omyfuckinggawd! Everything looks different the last couple of weeks. The sky is bluer, the sun is shining brighter, the grass is greener. I think I could be a freak'n fabric softener commercial.
Soon I'll be dancing and singing on the mountain tops with Julie Andrews. You Rock it baby!
The major source of my trouble at this point is the graft vs host which is my brothers feisty immune system attacking my liver and other things. The "other things" is a whole other post. I react quite badly to the steroids I have to take. They make my life miserable.
They are the wee little pills at the top of the photo, labeled; Prednisone. Such a big wallop for such small pills.
The good news is that my tapering is going well, my liver is stable and I may be off them soon. I get unreasonably excited every time I'm about to taper them down again.
Currently I'm on 1/2 a pill which is 2.5mg, every other day. I haven't had to visit my oncologist in 3 months! I'm pretty sure she is lonely and misses me since I'm not in her office all the time now. I'll be seeing her in a couple of weeks. Maybe then she'll let me off of them permanently! Oh, to dream.
I'm finally having renewed strength in the belief that I will get better again.