Woudda coudda shoudda

In all my concern over my lowered counts, I didn’t dwell much on the fact that Oct. 15 would have marked one year out of transplant if my graft hadn’t mysteriously failed at six months.

I did, of course, think about it.
It would have been my second new birthday (following my first new birthday, my auto transplant, now my non-birthday, on Sept. 18, 2003).

If I hadn’t backpedaled, I would have learned who my donor is. I would feel the relief of having the experience be one whole year behind me.

Plenty of people are saying woudda coudda shoudda over their stock market purchases. "I would have," "I should have," "I could have" are words that people often apply to troubling events in their lives. Everyone knows it’s a waste of energy. It’s something we as cancer survivors must try especially hard to avoid. Other words are just as problematic, for example, “if only….” And “what if….”

“If only I hadn’t gotten cancer….what if it comes back…” They’re all part of the same non-productive way of thinking.

Emily did have a good “woulda” about my one-year-annversary that wasn’t.

“You would have been getting ready to go back to work,” she pointed out.
So true. I like my job writing for a newspaper, but there are countless benefits to staying home. I’ve spent more time with my kids than I ever would have. I can read the newspaper all morning. I can read books at my leisure, walk with friends, watch the dog swim, enjoy the mid-day sun that I missed in the office, and take a nap without feeling guilty. And now that I’ve discovered blogging, I can send my updates into the blogosphere and get support and feedback from people I know and friends I’ve never met. And I can send out support and reassurance in return.

Quick update: Today was the day to call Melissa for the results of the CMV test and the bone marrow biopsy. I didn’t want to get out of bed. Mary called and I told her I was lying there with the quilt over my head, imagining bad things…that Melissa would say the results were bad, or that she might even say they weren’t in, when in fact they might be in but were so bad that she wanted to tell me in person. Woa.

“Stop making scenarios,” Mary said. “Get up and make some pancakes and some strong coffee.” I told her that my mother used to come wiggle my toes and say, “Get up, get up.”
“Mary,” I said. “Tell me to get up.”

“OK,” she said. “Get up, get up, get up.”

So I did. I added half an Ativan to my morning pills, and when my heart stopped beating fast, I called Melissa.

The CMV was still negative. Only half the bone marrow results were in, and they looked fine. The chimerism and the rest would not be back until Monday. She said to stay on the Valcyte, because if I go off too quickly the CMV might come back.

I think I can deal with that for now. The sun is shining. My friend Barry is coming for a walk. The dog is lying in a patch of sunlight on the dining room rug. Soon she’ll be racing around in the lake. I’m going to see if I can get through the weekend by being a good Scarlett O’Hara.

I’ll think about it tomorrow. (Or the next day or the next day or the next.)