X’s life had become a living suspension after his rescue mission. It had been a scary time for him. He was in an immune deficient and weakened state. He had to be very cautious of where he would go or who he saw. He often wore a paper surgical mask over his mouth and nose to protect himself from any bacteria or virus. X’s immune system had been in the process of regeneration. It had been only the beginning of his body’s defense mechanism. His skin was still chalky white, his eyes still black and sunken in his collapsed face. He was freezing cold and shaking constantly. He’d lost so much weight during the transplant procedure that he was just a bag of bones.
The doctors hadn’t given him any special procedures to follow anymore. After the transplant, the patient has completed their mission. There is no more chemotherapy or radiation treatments, only profound recovery. X’s new mission was to rest and gain weight. The doctors had encouraged him to eat anything he’d wanted. The only problem was that X couldn’t eat anything. Nothing appealed to him at all. If he did eat, it had been just a few bites and he’d been finished. It was a strange mix between nausea and disgust if he’d tried to eat. Sometimes just the thought of food or smelling it would make him feel ill. X’s dad had always tried to prepare great meals and they’d often sit at the kitchen table together watching the news.
X’s weight loss became so bad that the doctors had to intervene. They prescribed what X called “liquid food in a sack”. X still had his catheter in his chest and each day his dad would insert and attach this bag of liquid food. The sack came with a handy backpack so X could carry it around with him while still hobbling on his crutches.
They’d joke around about the food sack saying, “oh, this is so good tonight!” or “I think this steak is a little overdone, don’t you?”.
In the end, X had started gaining weight again and color came back into his face. The food gave him slightly more energy and it also provoked his desire to eat more. Still, his biggest obstacle had been fatigue.
What X remembered most about this time was the fatigue. It had been an indescribable feeling of tiredness. If X walked from the kitchen to the living room, he’d be exhausted. For months after the transplant, X slept entire days away. From time to time, he’d get up and take some post transplant pills, then return to bed and sleep again. It hadn’t been just lying in bed either. It had been a profound sleep. X had literally slept weeks away.
He had not been taking a lot of pills after transplant. Once a day, he’d have to give himself a shot to boost his immune system productivity. It was one small quick shot directly into the belly. He also continued to take other prescribed supplements to aid his immune system. Another one of his pills was morphine.
It had been his pill and his addiction. He can’t remember how long it took him to get off morphine. Once a week he’d had a clinic visit. Each week the nurse would ask him how his effort to reduce the morphine was going. He’d said he was trying to reduce it, but really he’d just been popping the small powder blue pills. Because he had trouble eating and drinking, he’d take just a tiny sip of water with his pill. He’d sip just enough to get it into his system. Sometimes, he’d stopped taking the other supplements because he couldn’t get them down his throat. But he never missed his morphine after transplant, except once.
X’s dad had left for a weekend Up North. It was winter and X was not ready to make the long trip. His dad had not wanted to leave him alone, but X encouraged him to leave and that he’d be all right on his own. X had been feeling a little sick before he left, but he’d wanted his dad to get away for awhile.
X had done his normal “sleep all day” routine, but he didn’t get up to take his morphine. Later in the evening, he’d tried to take his pill with a little sip of water, but he’d vomited immediately. He’d tried again and again with the same result. He’d been exhausted with his efforts so he went back to sleep. After several hours, he awoke again feeling like hell. He was shaking and extremely cold. His body ached. He knew he was probably going through withdrawal, so he tried taking his pill again. Again, he’d had vomited. Again, all he could do is close his eyes and sleep.
His dad returned late on Sunday night to find X really sick. He took X immediately to the clinic. The nurses quickly gave him a morphine shot and prepped him for a blood transfusion. After this, X was feeling better within minutes. It had taken months to get off morphine. Each week, X had tried to reduce the intake of the pills under the supervision of his doctors. Finally, the addiction was kicked.
As the weeks passed by, X started having more and more energy. He began sleeping only half the day instead of all of it. The other moments of the day were spent in front of the TV. He’d surfed through the fifty-two channels with his feet up in the recliner, covered in blankets. Periodically, he’d dose off, then wake up and channel surf some more.
In his next stage of recovery, he was awake during the day. He could move around the house more easily without being completely exhausted. It was at this time where he’d started picking up his guitar more and more. He’d sit at the end of the recliner and pluck away at the six strings. His fingers had been so cold and fragile at this time, still he strummed the day away.
No comments:
Post a Comment