I don’t mean to brag, but I’m developing a reputation on this floor as a cat lady with an impressive urine output.
Does this not earn me bragging rights? Keep in mind I haven’t been interacting with people much lately.
The doctor this morning asked me what was new in the cat world and seemed impressed or disturbed by the Easter card displayed with a cat dressed as a rabbit. Someone just now dropped by a cat calendar for the doctors to see tomorrow on their rounds, and a cat puzzle and book arrived in the mail.
Once again, I was complimented on how much I’m peeing, so I don’t need any diuretics to flush out the Cytoxan, which can damage the bladder and the kidneys if it sits too long in your system. Apparently, I may have set some sort of pee record. Something else to put on my resume and those job applications, when they ask you an interesting fact about yourself in 140 characters or less: Current record holder of urine output on the bone marrow transplant floor.
Despite my increasingly feral nature brought on my isolation, visitors and the digital picture frame my boyfriend filled up for me reminded me of the outside world and all the things I plan to do.
The thing is: I’m afraid to make plans. I don’t want to jinx myself. My PET scan after the transplant will probably be in August, and so I’m not making specific plans quite yet. One of my friends recently declared she’s determined to have a blast this summer, so we just have to figure out what that entails. But here are some things I have to look forward to.
A new couch arrived in my apartment last week. So far, it’s met the cats’ approval.
My boyfriend’s parents are visiting next week, though they’ll have to see me here, in my hospital room. But I’m talking beyond hospital drop-bys. The new couch is a sleeper couch, so once I’m allowed to be around people on a more regular basis, I expect to have some visitors. One of my friends might come out in August for a concert and a beach trip.
From what I remember—and I could be wrong—I’m not allowed to travel for three months, no air travel for six months, no international travel for a year, and no third-world countries for two years. I’m not going to make any definite travel plans, but there’s talk of Montreal by train in the fall, and Ohio in October. When I’m cleared for international travel again, I want to see my friends in Dublin, Copenhagen and Prague, with some side trips, but I’m getting way ahead of myself.
This is something else I have to check on, but I think I’ll be allowed to garden, so long as I’m not working with manure. If I can’t spend as much time working in the community garden, maybe I’ll actually read and relax. It’s something I always say I’ll do, but the sight of an errant weed or plants growing in between the brick pathways makes me deviate from my intended downtime.
Since I’m supposed to avoid crowds for the first three months of my recovery period, I’m probably going to miss some shows I’d planned on going to this summer—including Devo, Morrissey and Nick Cave. But this fall, I have tickets to see Front 242 and Echo and the Bunnymen.