Rona Updates: Is somebody cooking beets?

July 8, 2023

Another week, another rollercoaster. We still don't have any cell counts, which is to be expected, so we are in a bit of a holding pattern. On Sunday, we learned Rona has a new viral infection. This one is annoying and can be painful, but is not life threatening, so it's just something we need to deal with. On Monday Rona's viral counts for both viruses were down 25% and we got excited. This morning we found out they had quadrupled again. It's normal for them to do this zigzag thing on the way down and the earliest we would expect to see a meaningful decrease in viral load would be in about a week or two, so it's all annoyingly to be expected.

Speaking of T Cells, a lot of discussions we've had over the last week has been with hospital staff about what, exactly, stem cells smell like. I am willing to guess 99.9% of you have never once asked that question. I am also willing to guess many of you are like me and your interest is now piqued. The most solid answers we've landed on are "cooked beets" (courtesy of Samtubia) and "that bag of spinach you forgot about in the back of your fridge" (courtesy of a nurse practitioner). Either way, that's what the room has smelled like this week thanks to the multiple cell infusions. 

Needless to say, Samtubia and I have been finding opportunities to leave the room more frequently. I went home for a night of 10 glorious hours of sleep last weekend and he's going home this weekend. Rona, unfortunately, can't escape the room much. Her doctor let her venture outside for a bit on Monday as a birthday gift to me after he made the resident and interns sing me happy birthday during rounds and I reminded him about that time he told me I was "outside of the desirable age range to donate stem cells" (my overproducing old lady marrow doth protest). That was likely Rona's last time outside for a bit because of all of the things she has going on. I counted last night and she's on 19 different medications right now, most of which are dosed 2-3 times a day, plus blood products. It's a lot for a little body and for a person who values her independence. 

Other than the medical stuff, we are just trying to figure out how to live, work, and get slices of normalcy. Our quest was aided this week by a fireworks display that we were able to see from our window on Tuesday night. Though, truthfully, every taste of "home" we get is a bit like COVID -- flavorless with a side of quarantine. We'll get out eventually. Until then, we are still taking things one hour at a time.