GVHD for you and me but mostly me

I'm back

Distant memories provoked Proust's creative juices  it appears my muse is the queen of pain

Pain focuses the brain,  creates barriers to  resist the  endless tide of  electrical fire racing through one;s mouth

Makes us whiny. Needy, unpleasant.
Welcome to my world. Again.

 I should not complain,  I have reached the season some of you have reached with me, the season of sick parents and friends of  failing organs and  children no longer children who insist on making  dangerous, destructive choices you had hoped they'd out grow by the time they could buy liquor or rent a car.

I planned long a illustrious decline.  I would  see patients, I would  cut back my hours, spend more time with Cyn and the  kids, slowly defusing across the  country, vital  life forces I am no longer able to control or regulate.

Let me tell you what's going on.

I was told to stop blogging.  I was warned it could hurt my practice.  Too bad. My old boss is gone.  I have things to say and life is just too short to cower.  We'll let the lawyers sort this out, that's what they are paid for.

Life was swell.  I had renounced  narcotics and steroids. My  skin stopped blossoming in a livid riverscape every time I bumped a gym locker.
The lack of stress was quickly replaced by the stresses all of us go through: An alarming birthday ( 55? No shit, I'll be dead soon) My parents' friends, whom, I remember as young sparking adults are now dropping like, well, like the  oldsters they are. My parents are holding up ( ptooo ptoo) but their lives and bodies are  sand castles along a stormy shore. What did Bob Dylan say?

It's an endless ocean,but it stops at the shore.


And so the distractions returns. Am I living ouy a useful decline?  Are my parents suffering?  Do I have to attend yet another Shiva   and speak fondly of a man I knew in 1972?

And then. The pain. Or rather, THE PAIN
  My mouth exploded in fire,  the sensation of sucking on  a  polishing  drill bit.  GVHD, GVHD GHVD

 I though I out grew this shit.  Cyn likes it, on some level, calls it my insurance . She likes the thought the German have re armed are are once again patrolling my mouth, searching for spies stragglers and invaders

And I have returned to, shall we say, medical management. The meds suppress the pain for 6 hours or so and then the red tide returns.
Its not all bad.  I have lost a lot of weight. I am re notching my belt. My facial skin is tightening up,  my million dollar face lift. Yay.
There must be a  market for Graft Versus host disease. I have patients who underwent surgical mutilation to lose weight.  They  had their  stomachs air lifted out  so their diabetes would abate, their clothing would fit. Their  misery strikes me as much worse than a little GVHD . Throw in a  face lift, we are golden. doesn't Jennifer Gardner  talk about her new  skin cream, the one that contains stem cells? Or am I confusing this with  Cameron Diaz wiping  Ben Stiller's DNA on her hair. Whatever.
Whatever.
Problem :Can't see patients with involuntary tears running down my face. Cant see patients  hopped up on a magical medical cocktail. Cant stay home and watch reruns of Modern Family
Cant Cant Cant. The daily Cant.
Cyn says it will get better. The prednisone will work, Ill feel better, I'll return to work.
Welcome back