Greetings from pothole city

I drove to Boston today loaded with reading material, expecting that I would wait for hours at the Mass. Eye and Ear Infirmary to see Dr. Reza Dana, but the hardest part was actually driving through the potholes and puddles created by all that snow.

This was a rescheduled appointment with the cornea specialist who was so backed up last time that I bolted after waiting more than two hours.  I actually had to only wait an hour today, which was not so bad. I was late myself because as I drove up to valet parking, where there was a long line, someone waved his arms and shouted to get a move on. It took me half an hour to get around the block.

Dr. Dana said my eyes look good, and the mild graft vs. host of the eye is holding steady. He wants me to increase my use of eyedrops, however.

Tomorrow I have three appointments. One is my regular checkup followed by two dermatology appointments with doctors who will luckily be on the same floor. I might end up with two biopsies:
 one of the determined "little guy" that is camping out on my forehead (blocking my third eye!) and another of the hardened and thickened skin – sclerosis – resulting from late-stage Graft vs. Host Disease.

This has to be followed because  it can spread to other areas and limit motion, as described by a frightening comment from a patient who said this on the National Bone Marrow Transplant Link site: "I can no longer stretch out my arms because of all the skin GVHD, and certain areas of my skin feel slightly numb."

I have been applying a steroid ointment which has not really helped, but still, I am jumping ahead of myself.

Makes a hurt foot seem pretty trivial.

Speaking of which, I have been good about refraining from any activity that includes pounding, but that has not been so good for my mental health.

The other day after I did my laps and started water jogging, I met a woman who was doing the same thing due to an injury to her leg. We "ran" together and talked, making the time go by much more quickly. We told each other we would remember each other's names because we both have a boy name. Hers is Lenny.

Lenny said she had hurt her leg while training for a marathon, adding that every time she got close to her goal, she got hurt. I told her that I had wanted to run the Saint Patrick's Road Race and was disappointed that I probably couldn't do it.

"It could be worse," I said, without elaborating.