Friday, January 24, 2020

CAR T - 7

I'm back in Portland again. On Monday, I'll receive the modified CAR T cells. At least it's a very short infusion.



This hotel is very nice. It's got a swimming pool, a small gym, a bar/restaurant and complimentary breakfast every morning, none of which I can partake in due to various aspects of my treatment. The gym and pool are off-limits due to my brand-new PICC line, and a lowered immune system rules out restaurants, especially buffets, and doubly especially alcohol. No Fireball for me, sadly. Besides my PICC and lowered immunity, I can't be left alone; this therapy has a risk of stroke, seizures and neurotoxicity. Anywhere I go besides the clinic, Mom has to be with me.



I am so deadly tired. It’s hard to put into words how weary I feel. It’s fatigue that takes over your brain and leaves your body free to act like a zombie. I see and I do, but I barely comprehend anything. It’s a mode of existence where your thoughts tangle around each other in a web, your brain turning over like a car with a dead battery while the world outside moves in slow motion. I live moment to moment, and the moments peel away from me like pages blown in a soft breeze.



It’s just the nighttime after a long day. Tomorrow morning I’ll feel fine, and tomorrow night I’ll be cagey, defensive and depressed again.



My wife is home, waiting for me. That’s the only thing that is keeping me centered and grounded. There is one person above anybody else in the world that I live for, and she’s waiting patiently for me. There’s a light at the end of this tunnel, a dawn after the longest night in my life. We’ll laugh, we’ll hug, we’ll watch TV, we’ll go to restaurants and movies and long walks again. I just have to make it a bit farther.

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