The One Where There is a Wall

There is a wall in cancer treatment, I think in any treatment actually. It is kind of two fold: One you are as low as you can get ... you do not feel like you can get any lower; and two you actually feel like you have run full force at a wall. Mom hit the wall this week. The good news is that she is engrafted. The transplant took, now whether it put her into remission is another thing, we have to wait 100 days for that test. But her transplanted cell seem to be working in her body to build her immune system back up. Her counts look great. She feels like shaz.

They explained like this to us: Mom's body is acting like a computer right now, it has crashed and needs to reboot. Her heart is firing wrong, her lungs are breathing wrong, her gi track is working wrong, her hair is falling out, her brain is working wrong, her speech is working wrong, her lips and mouth are dryer than anyone should have to experience, her temp is working overtime, her energy is being used to repair the organ function and she feels like crap. She even admitted yesterday she feels like crap. Her words exactly "I admit I feel like crap." Where she used to be able to walk all the way around the block of the East Wing. She can make it down the hall right now. This is not bad news, they expected this to happen, but frankly it does not make it easier on her. Mom is tired, she sleeps a lot. She is understandably a little frustration with being in the hospital for the last 2 weeks.

But hitting the wall means she is at the bottom of her treatment, and now she will start to climb. As her counts go up, her energy will go up. As her body fights, she will feel better. She is on the up swing. I was proud of her for eating solid food yesterday for the first time in days.

So Mom hit the wall, or the wall hit her, hard. But she is climbing out of it. Fingers crossed and prayers she can go home soon. I know once she is home, in her own bed, with her own shower,with her own tv, and her own food, she will be feeling better.