Did I say a week?
Well, I spent a week on the Cladribine, at any rate. I had a lively time, holding court from my hospital bed, with friends passing through constantly with conversation and snacks. I started feeling a little sick during the last couple days (Dr: Weissmann: "That's not water going into you, you know"), but it was all very manageable.
However, as those who've been in any contact with Lotte know, an hour before I was to be released (a list on the whiteboard on my wall had counted the hours to go from 168 down to the last day's fractional increments), I came down with a fever. Having just assasinated my immune system, any fever was a cause for concern, and I had to stay on at the hospital. I think it only took about a day for the fever to reach 105 degrees, where it held, with occasional breaks, for several days. My sense of sequence and duration in that time is pretty murky. I was miserable, of course. My dreames will filled with great, fast-moving shapes and insoluble conundrums. My sheets were constantly soaked with sweat, my breath so short I went on an oxygen tube(helpful tip: with an oxygen tube, you can huddle completely under the covers without suffocating. You're welcome).
After the fever broke for good, recuperation started out frustratingly slow. There was nothing overtly wrong wth me, but I still felt like deathg warmed over. Now, finally in the last couple days, I'm starting to feel like myself again. I'm eating solid food, I went for a walk outside with Lotte for a few minutes today...and of course, I'm spending late nights crouched over Thomas' Powerbook.
Now, in the middle of week three, we're just watching my blood counts. Once my neutrophils (white blood cells specialized for fighting bacteria) reach a certain level, I'm a free (weak, shaky, immunnosuppressed) man.