As I get closer to my one year post transplant check-up my anxiety level ratchets up day by day. With the first transplant, my one year check-up was stellar. I hit all the milestones dead on and my team was pleased. Exactly one month later, the leukemia was back, angrier than ever. Funny how the doctors classify my type of ALL as angry. I've heard the bus and lightening analogies and all I can say is, yes, you can have the same bizarre accident twice. It's highly unlikely, but not unheard of.
Every twinge and creak is suspect. An allergy attack signals armageddon in my head, but I do my best not to let it show, and I think I've managed to fool most. Please don't think I'm a quivering mess behind closed doors, I don't operate like that. My anxiety manifests in my mind, in the form of "what if" conversations, which I try to shut down as quickly as possible. The small fragment of logic that's ever present always says the same thing. If it comes back, we'll have it treated. Case closed. Everything else will fall into place.
This week has been a bit of a trial for both me and Chris. In addition to the specter of leukemia, he injured himself on Monday and it was still bothering him by Wednesday, so he went to see a podiatrist for a second opinion. The doctor's opinion diverged from that of the clinic and he advised a slightly different treatment. Long story short, he pulled the nail. Chris hasn't been able to put pressure on the foot, so I've been on driving duty the last week. 4:30 am is not a pretty sight.
Yesterday, I had the opportunity to meet up with 2 old friends from highschool that I'd lost touch with. I had an amazing time catching up with them both and hope to maintain regular contact since we all live relatively close to one another. Unfortunately, I'm terrible about phone calls, as is one of the other friends, so Lori, you're in charge. :)
Still feeling good about doing something so simply normal, I ran a few errands, then it was time to pick Chris up. While I was waiting at a red light, I was rear ended by the truck sitting behind me. I was in Chris's sedan, which sits pretty close to the ground. The other driver said he took his foot off of the brake, and voila, bumper sandwich. The car's bumper is a total loss and the truck hit the car with enough force to deform the trunk and hood. Chris's car is so well engineered that the front end of the truck looks like it's been rearranged by a psychotic child. The bumper is turned up at both ends in the semblance of a sickly chrome smile and the grille is fractured. Before anyone gets worried, I'm fine, just irritated.
I got an estimate on repairs first thing this morning and am waiting to hear back from the other driver. He wanted the chance to come out of pocket for the repairs rather than take a hit on his insurance. Judging by the lengthy silence that followed the actual estimate, I'm guessing that he didn't think it was going to be that much. I have his insurance information and am waiting for him to call me back with a decision. The body shop needs to order the parts, but they won't until they get clarity on who will be footing the bill. Once the parts are in, the car will be in the shop for about a week.
Although I'm irritated by the inconvenience, I'm grateful that no one was hurt, that Chris will recover from his injury and that life is just generally good. I'm surrounded by loving friends and family, have a great little house and amazing husband. Both cats have managed to be healthy this week and I get to enjoy another day of being.
After all the bad jou-jou of this week I can still smile, because as a very sage man from the leukemia & lymphoma society message boards once told me, "A horrible dress rehearsal makes for a stellar opening night." I just have to believe that all of this week's inconveniences will add up to a very vanilla check-up and smooth sailing from here on out.