D+17 -- Excellent Report Card

In the morning, I receive a visit from a local home care nurse. There is some paperwork, and then the plan is for the nurse to show me how to flush my lines. However, the supplies have not been delivered to my house, so she can't do it. It's not a medical problem, because I'm headed back to Chicago for my first outpatient appointment after release from the hospital today, and they can do the flushing there.

The nurse also notes that the supplies ordered for my flushes are missing a typical component, the syringes of saline. I add that to my list of questions for the doctor this afternoon.

At noon, my father and I drive back to Chicago, this time the outpatient clinic. While I head over for my blood draw, my dad heads back to the unit I just left, to see if he can retrieve the two items I left behind: the new foam pillow that Jan brought me, which was disguised as a regular pillow and so avoided the packing frenzy; and the marionberry preserves from Jeff, which were hiding in the refrigerator by the nurse's station. No pillow, but the preserves are still there, thank goodness.

I get my vitals taken, lines flushed, blood drawn, and dressing changed. The nurse notices that the whites of my eyes are slightly yellow -- a topic to raise with my doctor.

I head over to the waiting area to see my doctor. It's a short wait. First, a nurse reviews how things are going and reviews my two lists of medicines, making notes for the doctor.

Shortly, my doctor comes in, with most blood test results already in hand. I'm doing about as well as one can do at this point. While the white blood cells have dived — expected after discontinuing the Neupogen — the leading indicator of successful engraftment, the platelets, are increasing a good pace. My appetite and energy level are very good for D+17. She attributes at least part of this condition to my positive and cooperative attitude. (It had never occurred to me to be uncooperative with the doctors, due to my confidence that they knew what they were doing, but apparently I would be surprised at how often that happens.) She resolves the differences between my two medication lists, answers my long list of questions, and concludes with, "See you next Monday."

The last time we talked, by phone, she had said she expected to see me weekly. Subsequent interactions with other doctors and nurses had prepared me for the possibility of a return visit on Thursday, so "next Monday" was the cherry on the sundae for a very good Monday.

After she left, the fellow and the transplant nurse came in. The fellow had a serious face. "So, you've heard... you're being re-admitted tonight." Since this was the same fellow who previously promised to increase the frequency of my nightly interruptions and told me on discharge day that discharge time was not midday but 7:00 p.m., I wasn't fooled. I just hope he reserves his kidding for patients he knows are on to him, because it could distress less prepared patients.

The nurse and I discussed a few things, and she got the information she needed to update my line flushing supplies.

Then my dad and I drove home, in a very good mood.