With mom's assistance, I'm posting.
The cup full of water that drowned my phone the evening before my admission killed it.
I had no means of connecting with the outside world.
No worries.
I'm pretty sure it spared some of you those "I love you" phone calls I used to send out during my first transplant.
Not that I could dial.
First things first, happy birthday Mom Ford.
Happy Birthday Doc.

My brain was mush.
Drugs are bad, kids, very, very bad.
They're great when used properly.
I think the vacation to DC then the vinblastine and then me refusing to take more than a day of rest did me in.
I started with mucositis.
When Dr. G asked me what the worst part of my first transplant was, since I'd had every side effect imaginable, I could easily say mucositis.
This isn't a couple ulcers in your mouth.
It's not an ache and pain.
It's ulcerations and burning that extends your entire GI tract. I wouldn't wish it on the devil.
Most of this suffering I wouldn't wish on anyone.
Mon. I thought I'd tough out and go to my brain storming session for the Electronic Medical Records.
I was ain the car with my grandparents, we dropped X off at mom-in-laws. Suddenly I knew I wasn't going.
I called my NP for fluids.
I couldn't eat. The next day I called for more. Weds. it was clear I couldn't control the pain. I couldn't eat. I couldn't drink. I finally broke the 150lbs mark, clocking out at 146 this am.
How's that for a crash diet. Now I'm home, recovering slowly.
Thanks for the blessings.