I was told late yesterday that I need to have a blood
transfusion today. Apparently, the
blood oxygen level in the tests they took earlier today were low and to make sure
I'll be ready for my stem cell harvest next Monday, I need to get oxygenated
up. This was communicated to me (through
no fault of the individual) as a perfectly normal, day to day activity. Whaaattt?!!??! Not in my world.
I proceeded to have a minor meltdown (i.e. tears) as, call
me a bit sensitive, but the concept of having someone else’s blood flowing
around my veins when I haven’t had a major road traffic accident or amputation of some sort, seemed
a bit odd. That’s not to say I’m
not incredibly grateful to those who donate blood and make this possible,
because I am. It’s just that I feel like
I’ve circled my wagons and it’s me against the cancer, except now it’s not just
me – it’s someone else as well. In a weird
way it’s made me feel more vulnerable while at the same time giving me strength. I’m sure I’ll adjust
to it, but it’ll definitely take some time.
The reason for this low blood oxygen is that I’ve managed to
contract an infection this week. Despite
avoiding pretty much everyone I know, some sneaky little infection managed to
weasel its way into my system. So that I
can despise it properly, I like to picture it looking like the vile little
fecker on the right/above/below (depending whether you’re reading this on your phone,
tablet or pc).
It’s amazing how much one little shitbag like that can wipe
you out when your immune system is chemo-compromised. Instead of battling through, as us females
usually do - no man-flu here in normal circumstances! – I caved in like a big girl’s
blouse. Back came the star act ‘Lacerated
Peeling Tongue’, but this time he/she had a couple of supporting acts, namely ‘Full-on
Exhaustion’ and ‘Boil on the Bum’. Yes folks, the bum boil, that ultimate sign that you're run down or poorly, has made its debut into this particular cancer drama. For fucks sake – like I didn’t have enough to
cope with, I now need to undergo the indignity of sitting in a hot bath trying
to ‘draw it out’. YUCK!
Thankfully, due to the wonder of modern medicine and
penicillin (thank you Alexander Fleming) I’m now back on track to being my
usual argumentative, stubborn and feisty self, so ‘Lacerated Peeling Tongue’ and
‘Full-on Exhaustion’ have moved on to their next venue, while ‘Boil on the bum’ although
hanging round, is not being made to feel welcome, so is soon to move on
too.
When I came out of hospital after RICE2, my second chemo
infusion, Mr. J was out of the country (for work not pleasure, as he had to explain/justify to the medics :-)), so I had a team of superstars looking
after me. Thank you one and all for your
amazing support – I absolutely couldn’t have made it through this week without
you. Please note, if you weren’t on
that superstar team because you were poorly and therefore couldn’t do the shift I had allocated you, or just because it wasn’t your turn this time, that does not mean you’ve
dodged a bullet; your number will come up over the course of the next few months, it’s
inevitable – a bit like death and taxes.
Good things since I last blogged:
- Amazing family
- Amazing friends
- Woofer cuddles
- Homemade chicken soup
- Readymade frozen smoothies
- Mince pies
- Raspberry ripple icecream
- Online shopping (yes, yes, I know I said I wouldn’t, but there’s got to some upsides to this crap..)
Apologies that this isn't the usual 'I'm breezing through this' style update, but this week, I've been forced to feel the pain of the chemo train, so in the interests of honesty & editorial integrity, I felt obliged to tell it like it is.
Also, sharing the pain makes me feel better. ;-)
A.xxx
