Day Zero Plus Twenty-one – Cruel Irony

Jeff’s ANC was 540 today.  Since it had dropped from 770, there was a lot of debate among the residents, intern and attending oncologist about recontamination.  Recontamination is when a patient’s immune system is re-introduced to germs.  Gloves and gowns are no longer necessary for visitors to the patient’s room and the patient can leave the room if he dons mask, gloves and gown.  Dr. Ahmedi likes to say recontamination should take place in this order: “First the dog, then your wife.”  Jeff would like that.  He is sure no one is taking as good care of Giblet as he does; he’s probably right.  Technically, Jeff met the criteria for engraftment: ANC of over 500 for two days with platelets rising on their own.  However, the docs were not completely happy with the slow recovery of his blood counts.  Dr. Ahmedi said recontamination could probably take place tomorrow and, sorry, but Jeff won’t be coming home until maybe Monday.  The doctors all filed out of the room but instead of moving on to their next patient, they hovered near Jeff’s door.

 A couple of minutes later, Dr. Ahmedi stuck his head back in the room and said that one of the residents had campaigned to allow recontamination today; Dr. Ahmedi was persuaded.  We thought he was kidding and asked him to confirm.  He said he wouldn’t kid about a thing like that.  I planted two big smackeroos right on Jeff’s lips!  The doctors laughed and Harry, who was visiting at the time, asked if he should leave the room and draw the curtains.

Oh, cruel irony!  Jeff did not feel well enough to leave the room.  He ate very little, was uncomfortable in any position, felt too weak to shower and had tremors.  I asked Nurse Ashley whether his Tacrolimus level was too high again.  She said she’d let us know if it was high but now I realize I should have asked her to let us know either way.  I was so disappointed for Jeff; I had a pretty substantial melt-down when I left the room to get lunch.

Harry had spent the morning with us and then went to St. Mary’s to see Pop.  Texts from my sisters hinted something was going on with Pop.  He will be transferred to rehab or a nursing home, I think.  Not being able to help my parents, my sisters being torn between the two patients, and Jeff’s discomfort all put me at the edge. 

Around 6 p.m., Jeff said he thought he could bike!  He rode just 5 minutes.  Then I pushed – a little too hard, maybe – to see if he was up to just stepping outside the door.  I got him a mask, gown and gloves, we put them on him and, with a groan, he took his “dance partner” out into the hallway.  I reminded him what he told someone when they asked, “Where will you go when you are allowed out of the room?”  He replied, “I might go left or I might go right.”  He stood there for a few minutes deciding, I think, whether to go back into the room.  Then he took off (to the right) and did a slow, wobbly lap of the floor.  Back in the room, he staggered to a chair and let out a big sigh.  I was relieved he made the effort and left for home shortly thereafter, with a much brighter outlook.

A note about the blog:  I can view statistics about my readers which I find very comforting.   Mine is a “private” blog, so-called because only I, or my readers, can invite other people to read it and it is limited to 100 readers.  Yesterday 55 people viewed the blog.  I don’t know who you are specifically, but I am very, very comforted knowing you are out there thinking of us and praying for Jeff.  I thank you all.  We also enjoy your posted comments and private email messages.