Nothing to Say (Except Everything)

There isn't much to write about today.

I spent the day up at the hospital, where I had appointments with both the diabetes educator and the transplant team. Included in the madness was the normal litany of tests: blood work, chest x-ray, and PFTs. In other words, we were there from 10 am until 4:30, but wow, was it ever worth a little exhaustion. I got great advice from the very nice and very helpful diabetes educator, who had no qualms at all telling me that I need to be eating carbs and treating myself, well, like a CFer when it comes to planning my meals. She adjusted my insulin, gave me some great aides to help me get started on carb counting, and was generally very encouraging. She said an A1C of 5.1 (my number) was excellent and she explained how the prednisone can cause my sugars to peak in the early afternoon. She is going to review my log for the next few weeks and keep adjusting my scale until we find something that works to allow me to eat exactly what I need to eat to feel healthy and gain weight. Most of all, she was friendly and seemed intent on reassuring me that this whole diabetes thing is not going to be a huge obstacle to life after transplant. I knew that, of course, but it was great to hear it from a knowledgeable source.

There isn't much more to report -- other than it was exactly what it should have been.

I went from there on to the pulmonary part of the program. I got all the requisite testing done and then headed in to see one of the wonderful doctors on my team. She looked at my x-ray and declared it completely clear, listened to my chest and exclaimed over how good it sounded, pointed out the log that shows a steady improvement in my PFTs each week despite the rejection, and went over all my cultures and bronchs with me. She asked me if I was having any symptoms and I answered no to all of them, at which point she laughed and declared that "we can't argue with that." Long story short, she seemed thrilled with my exercise routine, happy with my lung progress, and optimistic about my continued success post-transplant. It seems like my lungs are doing exactly what they should do in their new home.

And she's right -- we can't argue with that.

On the way home I dropped my mom off in the West Village and decided to walk home to lower Manhattan/TriBeCa. It was hot enough that I had some serious salt on my skin by the time I reached my apartment, but the day was beautiful and the people watching in NYC is always worth a little extra time outside. So I wandered along for a couple of miles and ended up back with my Sammybear in our cozy little apartment, where I finished my book and promptly started a new one before settling into a nice nap and then joining my mom and sister for an amazing dinner. It was low-key and relaxing and I used my new carb counting scale to ensure that I could even have dessert.

Just a nice walk, some downtime, and dinner out to finish the day -- nothing more.

In other words, I really wasn't kidding when I said that I have very little to write about today. My health and my lungs are so "normal" and run of the mill that they hardly seem worthy of their own blog. My life, and my breath, are blissfully devoid of dramatic swings or crazy events that simply beg for public retelling. The scariest thing to happen to me today involved a cab driver and New York traffic. The most annoying healthcare-related issue I'm facing right now is a crowded waiting room or the fact that long days at the hospital make me cranky. And the only reason I'm not taking my dog on more walks is that his short little legs mean he can't keep up with my pace. Seriously.

There's nothing to say -- and that makes it quite possibly the best blog post I've ever written.