Whose blood is it anyway?

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