Still More Day 54

Sandy the hotel manager and her assistant, Jason, were able to isolate the section of the security tapes where the guys broke into our car, and they called me to down to the office to show me. You can see a dark gray Pathfinder pull up to a red sportscar parked three slots down from us, and a young guy in a white sportscoat and jeans, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, hops out of the back passenger side seat. He looks in the other two cars in the lot, then meanders over to ours and glances in the window. Then he opens the back door of the Pathfinder and leans in, as if he's talking to the other people in the car--and the tape glitched out right at that second, so unfortunately, you don't see them break the window. It comes back about two minutes later, and you can see a different guy, who had been sitting in the passenger seat in the front of the Pathfinder, standing at the rear of my car. He's got a green bag in his hand, and at first it looked like he was sliding backward out from under the rear of my car. It was very weird. But we think what we're seeing him is him shutting the trunk. There are papers scattered around my car at that point almost exactly where I found them this morning--many of them sheets from notepads we've gotten from Dan Richmond, our insurance agent. (We always keep a Dan Richmond pad in the glove compartment.) Then he hustles the green bag over to the Pathfinder and hops in, and they all drive away. We couldn't see their license plate, but we think the police might be able to. The other cameras around the building caught them pulling into the parking lot and driving out, but lucky us, they only stop at our car. It all happened about 9:30 last night. 9:30!! In addition to just being pissed off about the whole thing, I'm annoyed at what they took, besides the papers from the glove box...it was all stuff that had absolutely no pawn value and is just going to wind up in a dumpster somewhere, but it's stuff we loved. The green suede gloves I've had for 10 years, the fingerless mittens my sister knitted for me last winter, and from the trunk, they took the green velour blanket that Torger's mom gave us as a wedding gift 16 years ago. It was a worn out old blanket, but really soft and Torger's favorite...he took it with him when he went in for the transplant and had it with him all through his stay in the hospital. We'd only left it in the trunk because we didn't really need it in the hotel, and last night when I unloaded groceries from the car I saw it there and thought, "I really should bring that in and wash it." I never imagined anyone would steal an old blanket. We just picture him going home to Mrs. Thief and saying, "Here honey, here's the blanket you've always wanted." She'd be totally bummed. But we'll miss it, and I think that's why this whole thing is so hard for me to wrap my brain around. It all just seems so stupid, and it makes me sad.

More on 54

I am, once again, very grateful for Torger's ability to cheer me up and help me look on the positive side. He had the idea to go out and get a "club" for the steering wheel, which we hope will at least prevent our car from getting stolen tonight if we park under a bright light right outside the hotel entrance. We taped up the window and went over to a nearby Auto Zone for the club. Then, when we went back out to the car, our battery was dead. We'd been having trouble with the starter, but now apparently our battery is about gone, too. But really, what better place to have your battery conk out than in the parking lot of an auto parts store? The Auto Zone guys jumped it for us and advised us to drive around for a little while to make sure it was charged up. So we took a little drive east on Colfax to Watkins, Colorado, which is really just outside Aurora but seems farther. By the time we got back to the hotel, none of it seemed so bad anymore. I'm now busy rearranging tomorrow's appointments with the hospital (Torger) and the dentist (me) so that we can get in and get the car fixed first thing in the morning. Torger says to write that now he's whining for his dinner, but really he gets the non-whiner award for today.

Day 54--Heavy Sigh

So, our car got broken into last night in the hotel parking lot, leaving us with a smashed rear window on the driver's side and a backseat full of broken glass. We didn't have anything of huge value in the car (apparently, they didn't want our bags of recycling), but the thief stole all the contents of our glove compartment, including, ironically, my gloves. Unfortunately, in with all the papers for our car--which I'm sure had all the information someone needs to steal my identity--was a valet key we've never used and had totally forgotten about. So now we not only have to replace the window but we also get to have the whole car re-keyed. And no one can do any of it on Sunday, so we're not sure what we're going to do tonight. The Denver police actually came by to take the report in person because we think the break-in may have been caught on the hotel's security cameras, which probably won't help us but may help them find the people responsible and prevent future break-ins. I'm just feeling violated and overwhelmed and angry right now. What's wrong with people? I know, I know...it happens at hotels and it could have been much worse. But it's just one more thing we don't really need right now.

Day 53 in the Land of the Free

Looking back years from now on our post-transplant life in the hotel, it will probably seem surreal that we were here, in our little bubble, during a time of such historic turmoil and transition. We chatted about the build-up to the election with friendly strangers in the hotel lobby or fellow patients on the 11th floor. We celebrated the election of our nation's first African American president with the kids who work the weekday nightshift at the front desk, Kelvin and Chris. We've watched the economy unravel on TV and online, only occasionally taking an anxious peek at our own retirement account (also online). This week, we've once again relied on the Internet as we've helplessly and angrily followed the announcement by Scripps that they intend to sell the oldest newspaper in Colorado, The Rocky Mountain News, and that if they can't find a buyer by sometime in January they're going to shut it down...sounding yet another death toll for the once-great tradition of the two-newspaper town. I know this hits me harder because I'm from a newspaper family and because I'm worried about my brother, Alex, who's among the many hard-working Rocky staffers who may soon be looking for work. For me, the Rocky--that good old tabloid format you can hold in one hand on the bus and the hurried smell of raw ink and cheap paper--is like family. It's the memory of great mornings sitting at Winchell's donuts with Dad when he'd let us have a donut and 7-Up for breakfast while he had his coffee and cigarette and we all read the funnies, which were really funny back then. It's the last gasp of the great newspaper battles that I took very seriously when I was little, truly believing that a Sun-Times family was in some small way just a little bit superior to a Tribune family. The demise of the Rocky isn't the war in Iraq. It's not even page 10 news in most parts of the world. It's just one more hurt in a long list of hurts created by an economy that for too long has benefitted greed and opportunism. And it's not like I'd feel any differently or be doing anything differently if Torger and I weren't living here in the hotel through it all. We wouldn't be taking to the streets in protest. But we would be talking about it with people we know, feeling somehow more engaged and connected with our own little community. Even with e-mail and letters and phone calls, there's a sense of separateness that characterizes our lives right now that sometimes is tough, even while at other times it can be almost comforting. We both felt it during the snow this week, when for the first time, we just really missed our house and being home. Even with friends keeping an eye on things, we worry about the snow getting shoveled and the gutters piling up with leaves and how our neighbors are doing and whether Mom and Rich are having trouble on the icy roads. I've had a cracked tooth that's been pretty painful, and even with a referral to a good Denver dentist, I found myself really, really..almost unreasonably...missing my own dentist in my own hometown. Living in a hotel is fun, in its way, and we're here because this is where we have to be now, at this time in our lives. And we like being together. But it's clear that by the end of our 100 days, we'll be more than ready to move out of this bubble and be back in the world.

Day 51--Huh?

Torger has been having very vivid dreams lately, although not as scary as they were when his Tacrolimus levels were too high. Last night, he dreamed that the Brady Bunch took him to Colonial Williamsburg, which had turned into a cult of people who read from right to left.

Day 50--The Halfway Point

We are now at the halfway point in our 100 days. Today, we had our weekly appointment with Dr. Tse, who officially declared Torger "boring" because of how well he's doing. He's got just the right amount of graft versus host disease, all his cell counts are heading in the right direction, and we've seen no negative complications. "Boring" is a great thing at this point in Torger's recovery.

Day 49--No Reason to Whine

Tomorrow will mark the official halfway point in Torger's first 100 days post-transplant. It's still hard to believe things have gone so smoothly this far...as yet, no infections, no bad GVHD, not even a need for any urgent transfusions. Really, at this point, we have absolutely no reason to whine. Next week, on Day 57, Dr. Tse will do another bone marrow biopsy to check for signs of leukemia and to see how well the cell engraftment is progressing. At that point, he's said he'll consider letting us reduce Torger's lab visits to twice a week, but only if he's comfortable with the results. We're really hoping this happens because right now the time we have to spend in the lab every other day feels like our greatest health risk...it's the time of year when everyone's coughing and everyone is fighting colds or the flu. Torger gets his blood drawn at the Bone Marrow Transplant Infusion Center (lovingly known as The BIC), which is a special, smaller infusion center specifically for BMT patients who are severely immune-compromised. That keeps Torger away from the larger Infusion Center, which serves a much wider range of patients with a wider range of maladies and more bountiful selection of germs. But even BMT patients, caregivers, and nurses still get colds, and yesterday it felt like we were surrounded by wheezing, rattling coughs, and juicy sneezes. We wouldn't be so paranoid except that we're usually there for a pretty long time...they draw the blood and then we sit and wait until the results come back from the lab before they'll release us (in case Torger's counts are off or he needs a transfusion). The BIC nurses are also the ones who change the dressing on his Hickman catheter, arrange for his magnesium delivery to the hotel, and tend to other regular routine business involved with his care. So it's never just a "pop in and get out" type of visit. Yesterday, Torger wore his mask for the entire time we were there, to try and keep the germs away. I didn't have a mask--although I'm going to bring one in the future--so I just kept wiping myself down with Purell. Neither one of us can afford to get sick right now. Even with all the antiviral medication Torger is taking, he's still at huge risk of infection, and pneumonia can be a very common--and lethal--complication after a transplant. Dr. Tse has said he wants to keep us out of the hospital as much as possible for this very reason, which is why I now give Torger his fluid and magnesium infusions at home. But for now, we still have to do our every-other-day visits to The BIC...so I guess I'm whining about that a little after all.