The stem cells come in in five more days. I've been here for four days already, and it's just starting to sink in today how very long I'm going to stuck here.
Now I lay here and receive my treatment, which today includes one kind of chemo and some fancy Rabbit Serum that's supposed to lower my immune system. Yes, it's safe to say that I officially feel at the height of my Cancer-Patient status. Knowing I'll be in this room for about a month, knowing I have to wear the HEPA mask every time I step outside, missing life as I've known it forever. I know it does no good to dwell on the past—how much I miss my old life in Northampton, my friends, my job, my dog, my family there—but neither does it do me any good to dwell in the future - i.e. "when will I get out of here? Will my cancer come back? What if it does? etc etc."
I can only be in this moment, in this bed, in this place, with this view, one day at a time.