Bloody Nose and a Sisterly Visit

So the good news is that everything gets better from here. Yeah, there are some dips and lows that sucked, but that has been my lowest low. I hope that I never reach a place like that again.

So I was locked in my isolation room still. Unfortunately, the chemo messes with your senses a bit. I had a really keen sense of smell and no sense of taste. I would have my family bring me the spiciest food they could find just so I could taste something. And if you know me, then you know that I do NOT do spicy. Like at all. But I also had the nose of a dog. I could probably have sniffed out drugs if you wanted me to. But having a great sense of smell wasn't always a great thing. The littlest stench could get me retching. And unfortunately, one time my vomiting had a bit of an issue: Mercedes had come to visit me like she did every day and I would have her sit next to me on my hospital bed. I think she must have just eaten and my super smell picked up just the slightest hint of her breath. Not normally a big deal and she doesn't really ever have bad breath! I was just overly sensitive. So I yelled "Bucket!" and someone handed me my vomit bucket. I threw up- but that wasn't all. Apparently, I must have busted blood vessels in my face and to my whole face swelled and was black and blue! It looked SO crazy.

We called the doctors immediately and were like "WHAT JUST HAPPENED???". We were scared. I didn't have platelets to clot the blood. I was emerging from my depression haze. I was a huge puffball with a puffball face. Also, I had started coughing up these big mucus blood clots and having nose bleeds multiple times a day. It was so disgusting!! The doctors hadn't really seen this happen before. Apparently, I must have thrown up so violently that my blood vessels broke and needed some time to heal.

But I was on the upswing and this was a very minute hiccup. Also, I wasn't too deterred because my other two sister, Brandan and Carina, were coming in town. I was too excited.

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So here's Brandan's perspective:

Reading Gen's blog is an enlightening experience for me.  I was not there for the transplant or much of her time spent in the hospital afterward.  In fact, I was very far away both geographically and in my life circumstances. Gen received chemo treatment a few weeks before my second year of law school.  So, the bulk of the blog takes place during my 2L year, when I was taking a full load of classes while working at the county attorneys' office. At the same time, I was flying around the country to interview at law firms for my big second year internship. It was busy to say the least.  Gen has already explained how we chatted by webcam and on the phone to try to support her as much as we could remotely. I would also call and try to get the 'inside scoop' from my parents and Mercedes to really understand what was going on. As much as we talked during that time and afterward, I don't think I ever did. I am not sure that there was a way I could have considering how foreign the whole experience is. Since I am the closest in age to Gen, I did experience many of her pre-transplant hospital stays. But those were all different: it was a few days, maybe a week while we rotated watch over Gen and the docs solved the issue. Mom, Gen and often Dad lived in the hospital for months during the transplant. For someone who was not there to witness the whole thing, I do not think it is comprehensible. I know this is a somewhat long intro about myself on a blog that is really about Gena, but I am not sure my comments on her transplant make much sense without the context of how isolating the whole experience was, not only of Gen from the world, but also of the world from Gen.

I did get to visit Gen in the hospital and see her life there a few times. The visit that sticks out most was right after Gen got those black eyes she was talking about.  Carina and I came up at the same time for a sisters weekend to try and cheer her up. The plan was to play board games and cards and do whatever else we could think of to make it a fun weekend within the confines of her hospital room. We had heard about the black eyes incident, so to try and bring some humor, Carina, Mercedes and I put black paint under our eyes like football players and called it our 'war paint' for the game day. We showed up in the isolation area and then scrubbed down one more time to go into Gen's room.  I had "seen" Gen over the webcam, but the initial impact of seeing her in person was overwhelming.  The transplant looked like it had literally beaten her up, leaving her bruised both physically and mentally.  I guess the black eyes didn't help.  I tried not to let it show how different she looked and acted, but I don't know how successful I was. My next impression was how the room seemed like an impersonal hospital room and a lived in home at the same time. The imposing IV poles and beeping machines stood next to Gen's pink stuffed animals and my mom's pajamas. As a person used to thinking of hospital rooms as a temporary stop, it was a very discordant image. 

We spent the rest of the time there playing games, solely, but constantly, interrupted by the rhythmic routine of nurses taking vitals and doctors buzzing in and out of the room.  Monopoly was the main event, but the game I remember most was Life.  As we moved those little cars around the board I remember thinking "how strange, we are playing this lighthearted game called Life while Gen actually battles for hers." I considered throwing the game as some sort of small gesture I could make to help, and then realized that this kind of special treatment would have pissed Gen off.  To be honest, I don't recall many more details of the weekend beyond a few snapshots. What I do remember was the poignant mix of feelings of how tough and inspiring it was to be with Gen as she put on a brave face and played games with us while she was so tired and in pain.    

And then I was back home. Back to classes and writing briefs and hopping on flights for interviews.  Perhaps I don't remember the details of the visit well because I couldn't dwell on them as I entered back into my 'real world.' I was flying thousands of miles while Gen couldn't even move a thousand inches.  My dad somehow managed to handle the transition from the solitary room to his demanding life outside those walls with grace. I was not so good at it. Despite my inability to fluently span the two worlds, I'd like to think that our visits and calls helped Gen break through the isolation to the outside every once in a while. To this day, I have no idea how she managed to do it in the end.

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So this is Gen again. Reading these posts from my family really give me a different perspective. What I remember from our game day was joy and happiness (and competitiveness). It was amazing how much better I felt just because all of my sisters were with me. I have to say that laughter is truly the best medicine. And even though they may have been shocked to see me in my somewhat decrepit state, they never let on and acted as though I was normal. And I think that was the best thing they did for me during their visit.