Cinco de Mayo on 8E

Jimmy checked me into the hospital yesterday morning, and it's now almost midnight Thursday, and things have been going full-tilt ever since we got here. I've already had Rituxan, a 24-hour Methotrexate infusion, the dreaded intrathecal injection in my back, Methylprednisolone IV, and now we're waiting for the Cytarabine to get sent up from pharmacy. This place stays up all night, just like Las Vegas.

As I've mentioned before, our floor is 8E, where we spent about a year, fighting Jimmy's multiple myeloma, and despite the depressing circumstances, it's a wonderful place. The nurses and staff are so caring and upbeat, and try to do everything they can to make the atmosphere cheerful. It's great for the morale.

Since yesterday was Cinco de Mayo, the nurses station was all decorated for the occasion, and the nurses had on sombreros. (I missed getting pictures of the nurses in their headwear.)

You have to look closely, but balloons are on most of the doors for the patients who've just had transplants. I think I'm one of the few non-transplants on the floor, but my Hyper C-VAD status must qualify.

This is one of the banners over the nurses station; if you can't make out the writing on the left, it says no blood cancers.

The steroids gave me some energy today, and so I donned my favorite green print PJ's and my "Beth" wig and sashayed around the corridor with my IV pole in tow for 21 laps - one mile. I kept passing this sign on the wall that has been around a long time but I still like it.

It's 12:52 now, and the Cytarabine has arrived.