Hundred Days

Well, actually one-hundred and one, but I had totally forgotten about writing yesterday when the big day hit. While the first hundred days may have some significance for new presidents or NFL coach tenures, I don't believe that there is much significance for someone recovering from high-dose chemotherapy. It's just another day for me.

I'm pretty much good to go, and capable of getting back to regular routine, as long as it isn't too strenuous. I think the big test for me is getting back to work, which I hope will happen sometime this month. Once I am thrown back into the 9-to-5 grind, my body will need to adjust to all of the extra activity, hopefully leading to more stamina. It's only been a little over three months, but physically I am where I was in February or March, or about the six-month mark after my first transplant. That's a big difference.

Good news about the hair -- my follicles have decided to finally wake up and show for the party. Although the sides are still a little barren, I have to use hair shampoo. The patch on the top of my head is starting to grow out of control, so I truly fear for my future.

The progress on my edema has finally come to a halt, and while I've been able to manage it much better, I am sad that there hasn't been any significant improvement over the last month. As long as I watch the sodium, the edema in my legs are only about a pound or two, but if I have a salty meal I will still swell up like the Pillsbury Doughboy. Sigh. It seems that my plan to ween myself off of the water pills completely will have to wait a little longer.