First plasmaphoresis done, yesterday afternoon: probably 4 to go. Gonna be a while before the symptoms plateau, though, let alone reverse. Scared the crap out of everyone with what seemed like a TIA right after plasmaphoresis finished: half my face went slack and non-responsive, but then recovered, mostly, after 1.5 hours. Earned me a trip back to the MRI tube (“not the tube! I’ll behave this time, I swear!") where they found no particular evidence of a stroke. So that’s unnerving, and might mean they hold off on the next pp session until they can figure out what happened.
Tried walking with a walker yesterday pm, which I could barely manage. Knees kept threatening to go out, even with firm support from behind and the walker ahead. The pt guy said he guessed I’d be looking at 10-12 days of in-patient rehab once I started recovering noticably. The date of my release keeps slipping farther out, day by day.
Sleep continues to be a cruel joke. The vented man to my right has his tv on all night, alarms going off all the time, and even with earplugs (which take me minutes to get into my ears, given my limited strength) and my sleep mask, the sound and light seeps through. Woke up twice to pee, three times to get my bloodpressure/temp taken.
On the bright side: my amazing friends and family. Bill, who’s loaned me his very-beloved Kindle. The string of visitors I’ve had and will have over the week. The understanding of said visitors when I’m tired. The astounding love that keeps streaming in via calls and email. The knowledge, remote though it is at times, that there will be an end to this, someday. My new roommate across the room, who also seems to have Guillain-Barré and with whom i’ve been comparing symptoms. John and Mike, who carried me to the bathroom, yesterday.
And Kate, without whom none of this would count for anything.
They may keep moving the goalposts, but at least there are still goalposts to move. Thank god.