Inklings of Spring!

Monday - April 8, 2013

While the daffodils have been out for some time, today truly felt like the first day of spring.  The frogs are peeping in the creek in the evenings.  Warm breezes and the scent of earth hold the promise that the trees will soon join the scrub brush in coming into leaf.  This positivity as annual rite, as cemented in the beauty and rhythm of seasonal progression, has served to kick away some of the blues and anxiety that seem to be lurking about in the downtime that arises in my spring break days.  Even the word "lurking" is now inexorably tainted, linked to my lymphoma diagnosis.  After all, it was almost exactly a year ago on April 10, 2012 when Dr. Michael Edmond of VCU's Division of Infectious Diseases took a prolonged and careful look at my blood results, considered my migraine and vision symptoms, and then suggested that "lymphoma might be lurking."  That phrase was the first time that cancer was raised as a possible explanation for my pounding disabilities. The subsequent rollercoaster of hospitalizations, treatments, and exhaustion generally served to stave off most instances of the blues.  However, spring break inactivity and an empty nest have grown my discomfort.  Outings with friends and continuing organization / preparations for our anticipated California move have been generally effective in warding off the blues but these quiet restful days are not necessarily the best thing for someone in a state of health flux.  I am eager to get back into a busier rhythm with work tomorrow and to refocus my mind outward. 

Anyway, the sensory evidence of spring is an absolute gift.  We may not have discussed it frequently but the weight of my diagnosis meant that I certainly had some moments when I wasn't really sure that I would actually see spring.  That's not melodrama or depression - it's just ... realism.  The stage 4 and Bone Marrow Transplant numbers pierce through even the most optimistic nature, giving pause at times, kicking you in the gut, breathless with shock at other times.  Thank God for Johns Hopkins' Dr. Ambinder and his "sit tight" advice.  He transformed my anticipated winter of holing up in a hospital room, praying for a successful bone marrow graft, and avoiding infection into a season of regained strength and precious time with my family.  We are rolling the dice and - so far - we have been successful.  Each clear scan signals a more optimistic outlook.  Slowly but surely .... Sitting tight, watchfully waiting ... and now, it's spring!  We've made it!  The ultimate reward?  Joe and I will both be present to join Jonathan in his college graduation celebration in five and a half weeks.