I awoke the other day to sun and blue skies. It was a beautiful day, with only good things planned. But I was in a funk. I had no idea why. I was almost 90 days post-transplant, and in many ways functioning at a nearly normal level despite a low hematocrit that continued giving me trouble with my energy.
I tried to shake it off. I had breakfast, congratulated the dog for not peeing on the floor, chatted with Katie and then put on my tennis clothes and went to meet my friends for a doubles game.
I played really well. One friend even asked if I had taken another lesson. I was enjoying myself. But I almost started to cry.
I took a minute for a quick “therapy” talk with my partner, Deb.
It’s great to have friends who will stop the game to give you emotional support. Deb listened while I said, “I’m doing all these normal things and feeling almost normal, but I forget that I’m still in the recovery process.”
I said it was kind of jarring sometimes. Part of me was having trouble keeping up with the other part of me. Plus it takes a lot of extra energy to do so-called normal things.
I’m not sure that makes sense, but it helped to try to express it. We finished two sets and then I went to Deb’s house and sat in her backyard for about an hour.
We talked some more, and I felt better. She gave me a purple popsicle, which helped wash away the funky feeling.
Eating a popsicle kind of makes me feel like the kid I was before anything bad ever happened to me.
On the way home from Deb’s, I had a raspberry popsicle.
That one tasted great too.
Later I thought about the times my late mother sat with me while I cried. My mother was with me during my first round against leukemia but “missed” the relapse and the graft failure.
“You’re entitled. It’s perfectly normal to cry,” she would say.
I can hear her saying it now.