25 - 30 ...

No, I’m about not talking about a life sentence – to be honest, that might be a more palatable concept.  These are the survival after 5 years odds that the stem-cell transplant consultant shared with Mr. J and me on Tuesday morning.  Only 25-30% of people who go through this treatment programme survive for five years or more.  Shit.

Now, although I am one of the most positive, determined, focused and bloody-minded individuals you could ever meet, those numbers gave even me pause for thought (actually, let’s tell the truth here, they frightened the bejaysus out of me).  There was some shock, some tears and then thankfully, normality resumed with me arguing/challenging the worldwide held statistics developed by people who know far more than me about this stuff.  ;-)  

I argued that I am twenty years younger than the ‘average’ DLBCL sufferer, so gave myself another 10% on account of that; then I argued that the consultant had said the longer after initial remission, the better, so I gave myself another 10% on that basis.  So I’ve moved my likely numbers to 45-50% and I’m totally focused on being in that 45-50 (alright, alright 25-30%). This really is a battle and I’m currently being flanked on both sides, but I have a strategy … ish.  I have however, started my bucket list in earnest – well, one has to have a back-up plan.

In other news, since I last blogged, I’ve flipped between feeling like I’d been hit by a juggernaut and feeling surprisingly well.  I’ve had nasty blisters in my mouth and a peeling tongue (yes, there is such a thing and its bloody disgusting), I’ve had nausea, but haven’t actually thrown up (which I think is probably w'orse than actually chundering). But once those post-chemo three days were over, I’ve felt fantastic, have achieved loads, have caught up with people and with work and generally felt more like normal.  

Then, yesterday, the hospital rang me after I’d had my bloods done (twice a week, every week at the moment) to tell me that my potassium is low and that I need to eat bananas and drink OJ which was a reminder of how not normal things are and how deep into my day to day life the medics are at the moment…

 I’ve also had a radical restyle, which I love love love!  I feel like one of those models who roar into the camera with dramatic make-up and a curled upper lip….  Shame I don’t actually look like that, but heyho, perception is reality and all that. J

It should last about 2 weeks before it disappears down the plughole, but I’m going to enjoy it and wander round with a curled lip, giving it lots of ‘uh-huh-huh’.

Thank you very much (see what I did there?!?).

A.   xxx