As some of you might have guessed, the gap in postings indicates that the past week or so has not been easy. It could have been easier. Most people don’t start off their transplant experience with a case of shingles.

Shingles is like chicken pox. It’s gooey kid-stuff that hangs around dormant in your system just lying in ambush for the opportunity to attack when resistance is low. The whole point of a stem cell transplant is to break down the immune system. So, four days before the transplant, I developed severe headaches. They were like a hard wire brush being held forcefully into the sensitive area in the back of my head. Within days, the left side of my face had broken out in sores. I was put on heavy narcotics.

I carry a pump around with me that shovels drugs into my blood every eight hours. But most of the time I carry nothing. I’ve spent the last week sleeping without being refreshed. Food’s begun to taste like crap. My symptoms read like the disclaimers on a Cialis commercial: “May cause nausea, constipation, fatigue, vision problems, digestive problems, exhaustion, tremors, etc.”

I have been slogging through. I nap mornings and afternoons. I go to bed early. I get up late. I trudge. I can’t muster my sense of humor. Bonnie feeds me meds at seven, eight, nine, noon, four, six, eight, nine and ten. She drives me to the hospital. Wheels me in and out. She interprets doctor-speak for me. Bucks me up. Shops while I am infusing. Makes me meals. She’s a regular Florence Nightingale.

They tell me it doesn’t have to happen this way. They say that it goes a lot easier if you don’t have shingles. There are fewer drugs to be administered – fewer side effects. I learned today that I can get shingles again. But they also say my counts look good. How would I know? I can’t count.

Today Ed Bradley died of CLL.