5,000 meters

My counts looked so good yesterday that they gave me a few days off from the clinic. I don't have to go back until Thursday morning. Once the counts start trending up and I don't need a transfusion of blood or platelets, they start spacing out the clinic appts. I always wonder what the cell count numbers are doing exactly while I'm staying home. Prior to this I never thought about my cell counts. I guess you could say that I took them for granted like so many other things in my life (good health, a terrific job, being able to travel whenever I want, that I'd have all the time in the future to do whatever I want...). But like all things we take for granted, a small change in circumstance erases all of that. Now I care whether my white cell count is above or below normal because it determines whether I can fight off infection. I care whether my red blood cell hemoglobin mumber is 8 or 11 because it determines how much energy I'll have; how easily I can do something strenuous like jogging or rowing without getting short of breath. I have to say that it's made me more appreciative of all the ways our bodies keep us going by regenerating all those important cells, by making us rest so that we rejuvenate ourselves, by making us feel good when we move or exercise so that we work different parts of our body and spread the blood around.

On that note, I went for a little jog yesterday morning around the neighborhood. Just 3 miles with my fuzzy bald head wrapped in a bandanna to catch the sweat. I had to walk at one point to catch my breath, but it felt good. My legs are a little sore from not jogging enough lately. This morning I did a row and felt so good that I did 5,000 meters instead of 4,000 m. Ah, progress. I'll try to build up as much as possible before I have to go back into the hospital next week for the next round of chemo. It does seem that I lose less fitness if I really try to make progress in between the chemo rounds. So that is what I am doing.

My pal Leo from the Drew clinic is leaving soon to go back to Texas to take a faculty job with his old residency. We have been pals at my clinic in Burlington and did lots of lunchtime walks together before I went out with my leukemia. I think that tomorrow is his last day in the clinic. I am really going to miss him and all of his interesting stories from Columbia (the country), becoming an ER physician there, and his long journey to get through learning english, extra tests & a second residency so that he could practice medicine here in the US. Our clinic will really miss his humor and positive energy. But I know that he and his family will enjoy this next phase as he and his wife teach at the residency and medical school way out there in El Paso. Good luck, Leo!