[10:52am]
Here's my counts:
WBC: 0.1 (0.1 yesterday)
Hematocrit: 29.2 (29.5 yesterday)
Platelets: 18,000 (32,000 yesterday)
Hemoglobin: 10.5 (10.5 yesterday)
So, I haven't entered the "recovery phase" yet. Basically, I've been told that once the WBC starts to go up, then I will have begun recovery and all my symptoms will begin to improve.
Naturally, I'm paying a lot of attention to when that day occurs -- I look forward to a reduction in "mouth pain." (The only other major symptom is the myriad of skin problems.)
***
It was only a week ago that I had my stem-cell transplant -- for me, it seems like the time has flown by. I guess that's a darn good thing to feel -- that time flies in the BMT ward. Probably a bit unusual too...
Pre-transplant was a different story -- that was generally a pretty rough time (The ICU, the chemo, the nausea/vomiting). On the other hand, once I was moved into isolation (single room) things rapidly got much better. By then I was only concerned with skin problems and mouth pain. Once I began Fentanyl for mouth pain and religiously began applying skin care stuff, I found that I was no longer counting the days until departure... time was moving faster; I was enjoying myself.
I guess my point is that I have completely acclimated myself to my particular room in the BMT ward. I have an established routine For the time being, this is my new home. It is nice.
Showing posts with label labs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label labs. Show all posts
Monday, November 10, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
[10-28-08] BCNU (Day -6)
[10:57pm]
Last night I got two blood transfusions, so I have a bit more energy today. Apparently, my hematocrit dropped two points (to 25) in only one day! These drugs are impressive!
So, using my newfound energy, I set up my x-box, my computer, and various other things, and got situated in my room. They were supposed to move me into a single room, but instead they decided to keep me in here until my white blood cells start to plummet.
Anyhow, I think my stomach has transcended to a perpetual state of ickiness. Also, I'm starting to get pain in my mouth (right behind my tongue) whenever I talk. Soon I may not be able to talk, or take my pills. I mean, the purpose of the psychiatric consult was to determine which pills I will be able to take in liquid form, and substitutes for those I cannot.
Scary, huh?
And now I've been told that I should be starting BCNU at 1:00pm. The doctor said, "You will not like it -- patients in your situation usually think it's the worst." He then told me how the drug causes severe agitation because it can cross the blood-brain barrier, due to the fact that it is delivered in an alcohol solution. Patients have restless legs, twitches, and bad jaw pain (clenching?) -- hence the Haldol.
A little under two hours before I am subjected to that; I am spooked.
But still, in Austin fashion -- BRING IT!
[8:10pm]
Bah, the BCNU was baby food -- it was Gerber, my friends. Call it coincidence or not, but after the BCNU, my persistent nausea went away. Plus, I ate a good deal of my lunch! Who knows? Maybe it's waiting patiently for it to attack me unawares.
When they administered the Haldol and Benadryl for the BCNU, I quickly found myself quite sedated. The nurse was describing the effects of the drug, but I had a hard time grasping all the details. In addition, when I tried to speak, I think my voice came out somewhat strained or slurred; it was difficult to talk. Then, I fell asleep.
Occasionally, they would wake me up for vitals and whatnot, but I immediately fell asleep again. In fact, I pretty much slept through the whole thing. Not bad!
So I didn't get all irritated and agitated, and I didn't snap at anyone (including my mom) -- you couldn't really picture me snapping at people, could you?
Some time later, I felt like eating the rest of my dinner: a feast consisting of pears, 3 jellos, 2 applesauces, and a dinner roll. For the first time since Friday night, I ate most of it! Tomorrow, I will try a light meal and see how it goes.
The doctor was talking about putting me on a nutrition IV, but I think I'd like to avoid that if possible. Though I basically haven't eaten for a couple of days -- maybe they draw the line at 3 days. But, the way I'm feeling right now, I should be eating bacon by tomorrow -- perhaps even BACON!
So it seems that the BCNU is a cakewalk. Also, that the transfusions are very useful. My energy is somewhat back; my nausea is gone. So... sweet! This SCT may be easier than I think.
All I have to worry about it my mom tripping over my IV line again. Yes, the pole almost came crashing down, and a pump module with it's IV bag were ripped to the floor. Fortunately, nothing was "pulled" on my end.
To mom's credit, the nurse almost did it as well. But to the nurse's credit, I was somewhat fumbling with the line as well.
Right now, I've got the xbox 360 set up. So, back to the games! Wahoo!
Last night I got two blood transfusions, so I have a bit more energy today. Apparently, my hematocrit dropped two points (to 25) in only one day! These drugs are impressive!
So, using my newfound energy, I set up my x-box, my computer, and various other things, and got situated in my room. They were supposed to move me into a single room, but instead they decided to keep me in here until my white blood cells start to plummet.
Anyhow, I think my stomach has transcended to a perpetual state of ickiness. Also, I'm starting to get pain in my mouth (right behind my tongue) whenever I talk. Soon I may not be able to talk, or take my pills. I mean, the purpose of the psychiatric consult was to determine which pills I will be able to take in liquid form, and substitutes for those I cannot.
Scary, huh?
And now I've been told that I should be starting BCNU at 1:00pm. The doctor said, "You will not like it -- patients in your situation usually think it's the worst." He then told me how the drug causes severe agitation because it can cross the blood-brain barrier, due to the fact that it is delivered in an alcohol solution. Patients have restless legs, twitches, and bad jaw pain (clenching?) -- hence the Haldol.
A little under two hours before I am subjected to that; I am spooked.
But still, in Austin fashion -- BRING IT!
[8:10pm]
Bah, the BCNU was baby food -- it was Gerber, my friends. Call it coincidence or not, but after the BCNU, my persistent nausea went away. Plus, I ate a good deal of my lunch! Who knows? Maybe it's waiting patiently for it to attack me unawares.
When they administered the Haldol and Benadryl for the BCNU, I quickly found myself quite sedated. The nurse was describing the effects of the drug, but I had a hard time grasping all the details. In addition, when I tried to speak, I think my voice came out somewhat strained or slurred; it was difficult to talk. Then, I fell asleep.
Occasionally, they would wake me up for vitals and whatnot, but I immediately fell asleep again. In fact, I pretty much slept through the whole thing. Not bad!
So I didn't get all irritated and agitated, and I didn't snap at anyone (including my mom) -- you couldn't really picture me snapping at people, could you?
Some time later, I felt like eating the rest of my dinner: a feast consisting of pears, 3 jellos, 2 applesauces, and a dinner roll. For the first time since Friday night, I ate most of it! Tomorrow, I will try a light meal and see how it goes.
The doctor was talking about putting me on a nutrition IV, but I think I'd like to avoid that if possible. Though I basically haven't eaten for a couple of days -- maybe they draw the line at 3 days. But, the way I'm feeling right now, I should be eating bacon by tomorrow -- perhaps even BACON!
So it seems that the BCNU is a cakewalk. Also, that the transfusions are very useful. My energy is somewhat back; my nausea is gone. So... sweet! This SCT may be easier than I think.
All I have to worry about it my mom tripping over my IV line again. Yes, the pole almost came crashing down, and a pump module with it's IV bag were ripped to the floor. Fortunately, nothing was "pulled" on my end.
To mom's credit, the nurse almost did it as well. But to the nurse's credit, I was somewhat fumbling with the line as well.
Right now, I've got the xbox 360 set up. So, back to the games! Wahoo!
Thursday, October 2, 2008
[10-02-08] Catheter Placement #2
[10:21pm]
Things have been ridiculous...
First, I've been getting very little sleep lately. Catheter pain has been preventing me from sleeping on my side. Since I can only sleep on my side, this has been problematic for the past week or so. But last night was ridiculous.
If it wasn't catheter pain keeping me up, then it was my insane Neupogen-related back pain. If it wasn't that, it was a slight fever (100.3). And, of course, we were on tiptoes because a fever of 100.5 or above merits an ER visit. So I got next to no sleep last night.
Second, I am not supposed to eat 12 hours before the procedure. So no food for me after midnight (what am I, a gremlin?).
Accordingly, you have a starving neutropenic anemic patient that is just recovering from a fever and complete lack of sleep. That is my explanation for my decrepit state today. AFter the 2nd transfusion: feeling much better. After no sleep and no food: feeling not so good.
To articulate, I recall lying on the hospital bed. My back was killing me, so I repositioned myself so that I was sitting upright. That act alone raised my pulse to 120, gave me an insta-headache (due to lack of oxygen to brain), broke a sweat, and caused me to wheeze rapidly for 5 minutes or so.
Yes, it was ridiculous! I had to take 3 breaks on the way to my procedure and I was pushing myself so hard that I got lost. Barbara commented that I wasn't thinking straight due to lack of oxygen. From that point on, I was so tired I was docile. You could have said that Palin was smarter than Einstein and I probably would've nodded noncommittally.
The procedure itself was much better than last time. They couldn't figure out why I had catheter pain and defective blood return -- the x-rays all looked perfect. Regardless, the best course of action was decided: remove the "defective" catheter and place a new one on the other side of the chest.
So that's what they did.
Also, I made sure to articulate that lots of pain was not acceptable. They want to distinguish between sharp pain and pulling/pushing. For some reason, they believe that "dull" pain associated with pushing/pulling did not exist -- that the mind somehow interpreted this weird pushing feeling as pain or something. This was told to me by several nurses and the doctor, so I took it seriously. I remember sitting there on the table saying, "Yup that's pain. It's a dull pain, and I know you're pushing/pulling, but it's still pain. Yup, that hurts. And I'm trying to be especially objective here." Or some such.
Still, everything went wonderfully. In fact, the catheter was placed on the right side of my chest with little pain at all. Removing the previous catheter... that's where extra time was spent. Something was wrong about that side; maybe it's because the big tumor is there... or my veins are sensitive on that side or something. Who knows.
And the nurses were crazy. They were all female jokesters -- casually engaging in banter while singing along to their Mo'town CD. I recall on several occasions them saying something like: "Glad you probably wont remember this; I'd hate to see the look on your mom's face when you tell her that you were cut up by a bunch of crazy dancin' nurses." I assured them that I would remember everything; they didn't believe me.
At one point, the doctor asked the nurse "how is he doing?" (The doctor can't see my head because a big blue sheet is draped over it). She replied, "Wow, he's actually crying!" I heard the doctor, startled, say "what?!?" And I said, "Hey, I'm not crying!" The nurse smiled.
At another point, they tried to get me to sing along with a Mo'town song. I told them: "You haven't given me nearly enough drugs to get me to do that!" They laughed and said, "Is that a challenge?" Flatly, I replied, "Yes." Then I pointed out the ethics of making a drugged patient entertain the nurses.
After the procedure, I got a call from the apheresis nurse: "You've been having lots of bone pain, right?"
"How did you know?"
"Your white blood count went from 1 to 12 in a single day; your marrow has been working overtime."
So, yay! I get apheresis tomorrow! Naturally, they want us there at 7:30am. So I'll have to get up at 5 or so. I better get some sleep.
Things have been ridiculous...
First, I've been getting very little sleep lately. Catheter pain has been preventing me from sleeping on my side. Since I can only sleep on my side, this has been problematic for the past week or so. But last night was ridiculous.
If it wasn't catheter pain keeping me up, then it was my insane Neupogen-related back pain. If it wasn't that, it was a slight fever (100.3). And, of course, we were on tiptoes because a fever of 100.5 or above merits an ER visit. So I got next to no sleep last night.
Second, I am not supposed to eat 12 hours before the procedure. So no food for me after midnight (what am I, a gremlin?).
Accordingly, you have a starving neutropenic anemic patient that is just recovering from a fever and complete lack of sleep. That is my explanation for my decrepit state today. AFter the 2nd transfusion: feeling much better. After no sleep and no food: feeling not so good.
To articulate, I recall lying on the hospital bed. My back was killing me, so I repositioned myself so that I was sitting upright. That act alone raised my pulse to 120, gave me an insta-headache (due to lack of oxygen to brain), broke a sweat, and caused me to wheeze rapidly for 5 minutes or so.
Yes, it was ridiculous! I had to take 3 breaks on the way to my procedure and I was pushing myself so hard that I got lost. Barbara commented that I wasn't thinking straight due to lack of oxygen. From that point on, I was so tired I was docile. You could have said that Palin was smarter than Einstein and I probably would've nodded noncommittally.
The procedure itself was much better than last time. They couldn't figure out why I had catheter pain and defective blood return -- the x-rays all looked perfect. Regardless, the best course of action was decided: remove the "defective" catheter and place a new one on the other side of the chest.
So that's what they did.
Also, I made sure to articulate that lots of pain was not acceptable. They want to distinguish between sharp pain and pulling/pushing. For some reason, they believe that "dull" pain associated with pushing/pulling did not exist -- that the mind somehow interpreted this weird pushing feeling as pain or something. This was told to me by several nurses and the doctor, so I took it seriously. I remember sitting there on the table saying, "Yup that's pain. It's a dull pain, and I know you're pushing/pulling, but it's still pain. Yup, that hurts. And I'm trying to be especially objective here." Or some such.
Still, everything went wonderfully. In fact, the catheter was placed on the right side of my chest with little pain at all. Removing the previous catheter... that's where extra time was spent. Something was wrong about that side; maybe it's because the big tumor is there... or my veins are sensitive on that side or something. Who knows.
And the nurses were crazy. They were all female jokesters -- casually engaging in banter while singing along to their Mo'town CD. I recall on several occasions them saying something like: "Glad you probably wont remember this; I'd hate to see the look on your mom's face when you tell her that you were cut up by a bunch of crazy dancin' nurses." I assured them that I would remember everything; they didn't believe me.
At one point, the doctor asked the nurse "how is he doing?" (The doctor can't see my head because a big blue sheet is draped over it). She replied, "Wow, he's actually crying!" I heard the doctor, startled, say "what?!?" And I said, "Hey, I'm not crying!" The nurse smiled.
At another point, they tried to get me to sing along with a Mo'town song. I told them: "You haven't given me nearly enough drugs to get me to do that!" They laughed and said, "Is that a challenge?" Flatly, I replied, "Yes." Then I pointed out the ethics of making a drugged patient entertain the nurses.
After the procedure, I got a call from the apheresis nurse: "You've been having lots of bone pain, right?"
"How did you know?"
"Your white blood count went from 1 to 12 in a single day; your marrow has been working overtime."
So, yay! I get apheresis tomorrow! Naturally, they want us there at 7:30am. So I'll have to get up at 5 or so. I better get some sleep.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
[10-01-08] Blood and Fire
[2:49pm]
Bloooooooood... need more bloooooooood.
I've had my first taste of it; I feel like a vampire. I want more. The effect 250ml of blood has on someone who needs it is profound. I didn't realize it until I got the 2nd transfusion, but I really needed it.
Yes, the 2nd one... I'll back up.
Yesterday, I started with a 2 hour (1 unit) transfusion followed my my normal blood work at another lab. When I got home, I was exhausted, and fell right to sleep. I awoke to a phone call from one of my nurses. "You need another transfusion," she said. Apparently my tiredness correlated quite well with my blood results. Here they are:
Hematocrit 24.3 -> 23.9 (after transfusion)
Hemoglobin 8.5 -> 8.6
WBC 0.3 -> 0.2
Weird, huh? Instead of going up, my hematocrit actually went down! I suppose I'm right at the Cytoxan nadir; imagine what my levels would be if I had no transfusion!
So, today I got another unit of blood. And, unlike yesterday, I actually feel a little more energetic. It's actually mostly mental; I still get just about as winded in my walk to the fridge or bathroom. But what I really notice is my improved concentration and newfound clarity of thought -- I must've been a dunce these past days! And I didn't even realize it!
Next topic: catheter. I hate this catheter. I spend all this time maintaining it and it doesn't even work properly. I mean, the Cytoxan had to be administered via IV because the darn thing wouldn't give blood return. Yesterday, another attempt was made to achieve blood return: it failed. So, I called my Stanford nurse and tried to get this darn thing fixed.
Oh, and blood return isn't the main reason. The truth is that it hurts if I try to lay on either my left or right side. I guess it's because my arms are "squishing" my chest or something? Regardless, I've had many nights of bad/little sleep because the darn thing hurts. And I can't sleep on my stomach or back -- that hurts my stomach! So yet again I am faced a similar dilemma: sleep with pain or no sleep. I've been having to stay up late balancing that equation... no fun.
The good news is that my nurse has scheduled me for a procedure tomorrow! Yay! They're actually going to replace the whole catheter with another one, and use a wire or something to help facilitate it. So it should be a quicker procedure than the last one. I believe it will require conscious sedation or something, because they're telling me not to eat after midnight and whatnot.
Also, Barbara says she's on point with getting my doctors to be liberal with the pain meds. I don't want another couple hours of me complaining (to annoyed staff, I'm sure) that I'm in pain.
The doctor usually tells me that I wont feel any pain before the procedure. When he does this, I'm doing to ask him to tell me his full name, date of birth, and social security number during the procedure. If he's given me enough meds (like he says he will), then I will forget all of it. Otherwise, I will try to comfort my post-trauma with a little identity theft spending spree :P
Last time, they told me that I wouldn't feel a thing and would most likely forget the procedure. P-shaw! I could recite most of the music tracks on that mix CD they were playing (mostly, Beach Boys, btw).
Now that I think about it, the Beach Boys are pretty good. I never realized that until I was forced to listen, in detail, to their music. They have some really melodic slow songs.
I digress.
Last subject: Back Pain.
I think I figured out why I had that ridiculous back pain ER visit a while ago. It was because I was given Neulasta (an extended version of Neupogen). I just started feeling the similar pain yesterday night. Fortunately, it wasn't nearly as bad as last time, but still bad enough so that two Vicodin won't get rid of it (helps, though).
The pain went away this morning, then came back in the middle of my transfusion. Fortunately, my doctor approved some Vicodin for me and I got a prescription called in. Hopefully it will help; if the pain gets any worse I may be screwed.
Believe it or not, my Stanford nurse explains that the pain may be a good thing. It seems that a shot of Neupogen is more effective when more white blood cells are present. In addition, when Neupogen causes your marrow to "work" to make more white blood cells there can be pain. The more your marrow works, the more pain (in some people).
For example, if I had a WBC of 0.1 and took Neupogen, then I would be lucky to get a WBC of 0.3 on the next day. Plus, I probably wouldn't feel any bone pain because my marrow isn't working that hard.
On the other hard, if I took Neupogen with a WBC of 10. Then I could get a WBC of 20 on the next day; my marrow would be smokin'! And there would be a lot of pain. This is what happened after ICE #1 and I had to go to the ER: I was given Neulasta preemptively so that I could get more ICE within two weeks. My WBC at the time was 9, I believe.
Oh, and guess where the most WBC producing marrow is? The region around the lower back...so says my nurse, but I'm still skeptical. Regardless, the lower back is up there, I'm sure.
So, even though I had a WBC of 0.3 yesterday. My nurse is willing to bet that this number jumped dramatically, as indicated by the pain.
Bloooooooood... need more bloooooooood.
I've had my first taste of it; I feel like a vampire. I want more. The effect 250ml of blood has on someone who needs it is profound. I didn't realize it until I got the 2nd transfusion, but I really needed it.
Yes, the 2nd one... I'll back up.
Yesterday, I started with a 2 hour (1 unit) transfusion followed my my normal blood work at another lab. When I got home, I was exhausted, and fell right to sleep. I awoke to a phone call from one of my nurses. "You need another transfusion," she said. Apparently my tiredness correlated quite well with my blood results. Here they are:
Hematocrit 24.3 -> 23.9 (after transfusion)
Hemoglobin 8.5 -> 8.6
WBC 0.3 -> 0.2
Weird, huh? Instead of going up, my hematocrit actually went down! I suppose I'm right at the Cytoxan nadir; imagine what my levels would be if I had no transfusion!
So, today I got another unit of blood. And, unlike yesterday, I actually feel a little more energetic. It's actually mostly mental; I still get just about as winded in my walk to the fridge or bathroom. But what I really notice is my improved concentration and newfound clarity of thought -- I must've been a dunce these past days! And I didn't even realize it!
Next topic: catheter. I hate this catheter. I spend all this time maintaining it and it doesn't even work properly. I mean, the Cytoxan had to be administered via IV because the darn thing wouldn't give blood return. Yesterday, another attempt was made to achieve blood return: it failed. So, I called my Stanford nurse and tried to get this darn thing fixed.
Oh, and blood return isn't the main reason. The truth is that it hurts if I try to lay on either my left or right side. I guess it's because my arms are "squishing" my chest or something? Regardless, I've had many nights of bad/little sleep because the darn thing hurts. And I can't sleep on my stomach or back -- that hurts my stomach! So yet again I am faced a similar dilemma: sleep with pain or no sleep. I've been having to stay up late balancing that equation... no fun.
The good news is that my nurse has scheduled me for a procedure tomorrow! Yay! They're actually going to replace the whole catheter with another one, and use a wire or something to help facilitate it. So it should be a quicker procedure than the last one. I believe it will require conscious sedation or something, because they're telling me not to eat after midnight and whatnot.
Also, Barbara says she's on point with getting my doctors to be liberal with the pain meds. I don't want another couple hours of me complaining (to annoyed staff, I'm sure) that I'm in pain.
The doctor usually tells me that I wont feel any pain before the procedure. When he does this, I'm doing to ask him to tell me his full name, date of birth, and social security number during the procedure. If he's given me enough meds (like he says he will), then I will forget all of it. Otherwise, I will try to comfort my post-trauma with a little identity theft spending spree :P
Last time, they told me that I wouldn't feel a thing and would most likely forget the procedure. P-shaw! I could recite most of the music tracks on that mix CD they were playing (mostly, Beach Boys, btw).
Now that I think about it, the Beach Boys are pretty good. I never realized that until I was forced to listen, in detail, to their music. They have some really melodic slow songs.
I digress.
Last subject: Back Pain.
I think I figured out why I had that ridiculous back pain ER visit a while ago. It was because I was given Neulasta (an extended version of Neupogen). I just started feeling the similar pain yesterday night. Fortunately, it wasn't nearly as bad as last time, but still bad enough so that two Vicodin won't get rid of it (helps, though).
The pain went away this morning, then came back in the middle of my transfusion. Fortunately, my doctor approved some Vicodin for me and I got a prescription called in. Hopefully it will help; if the pain gets any worse I may be screwed.
Believe it or not, my Stanford nurse explains that the pain may be a good thing. It seems that a shot of Neupogen is more effective when more white blood cells are present. In addition, when Neupogen causes your marrow to "work" to make more white blood cells there can be pain. The more your marrow works, the more pain (in some people).
For example, if I had a WBC of 0.1 and took Neupogen, then I would be lucky to get a WBC of 0.3 on the next day. Plus, I probably wouldn't feel any bone pain because my marrow isn't working that hard.
On the other hard, if I took Neupogen with a WBC of 10. Then I could get a WBC of 20 on the next day; my marrow would be smokin'! And there would be a lot of pain. This is what happened after ICE #1 and I had to go to the ER: I was given Neulasta preemptively so that I could get more ICE within two weeks. My WBC at the time was 9, I believe.
Oh, and guess where the most WBC producing marrow is? The region around the lower back...so says my nurse, but I'm still skeptical. Regardless, the lower back is up there, I'm sure.
So, even though I had a WBC of 0.3 yesterday. My nurse is willing to bet that this number jumped dramatically, as indicated by the pain.
Monday, September 29, 2008
[9-29-08] Transfusion
[9:27pm]
Tomorrow I get my first transfusion -- how exciting is that?? The concept is appalling! I mean, someone else's blood is going to be put into my heart. That's pretty, uh, intimate, or something...
Well, whoever it was, I appreciate it... even if they only donated blood for a few bucks. Plus, consider the blood type: O negative rocks!! Universal donors: that's some valuable blood there. Of course, it's worst to be on the receiving end of that equation, but it is cool nonetheless.
The strange part is how comfortable, in comparison, I am with chemotherapy. Chemo is a chemical, that means it's "clean" by definition, right? Plus, it's usually clear. On the other hand, blood just seems so dirty. Whoe knows where that's been! Plus, it looks like it's clogging up the IV line... all dark and whatnot, blood stains are hard to get out!
...of course, I'd rather a blood stain than spilling chemo on myself. That stuff can be vicious.
Tomorrow I get my first transfusion -- how exciting is that?? The concept is appalling! I mean, someone else's blood is going to be put into my heart. That's pretty, uh, intimate, or something...
Well, whoever it was, I appreciate it... even if they only donated blood for a few bucks. Plus, consider the blood type: O negative rocks!! Universal donors: that's some valuable blood there. Of course, it's worst to be on the receiving end of that equation, but it is cool nonetheless.
The strange part is how comfortable, in comparison, I am with chemotherapy. Chemo is a chemical, that means it's "clean" by definition, right? Plus, it's usually clear. On the other hand, blood just seems so dirty. Whoe knows where that's been! Plus, it looks like it's clogging up the IV line... all dark and whatnot, blood stains are hard to get out!
...of course, I'd rather a blood stain than spilling chemo on myself. That stuff can be vicious.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
['9-28-08] Looks can be Deceiving
[4:55pm]
Today was somewhat embarrassing. Liz, Barbara, Gloria, and I were planning on attending a symphony. One of the pieces was Rachmaninoff's "Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini," which is a total selling point for me. So I *had* to go. The downside: I had to wear my HEPA/Vader mask.
Naturally, I was the only one wearing such a thing. So I was really standing out. At first, I panicked about what they thought about me: that I was infected with avian flu or something. But then, I got used to it. It wasn't all that bad, plus Liz was quite comforting.
There was only one comment about it. The guy next to me asked rather bluntly, "So, why the mask? Are you contagious or something?" I told him I wasn't, then he went into a lecture about how masks are necessary for the people in Taiwan or something. Apparently, smog is the least of their concerns.
Of course, during the symphony, my phone was off. During this time, I was getting calls from my local oncologist and Stanford. When I got home, I checked my messages: They got my labs and my blood counts were quite low:
White Blood Count: 0.2 (Basically, I have no immune system)
Hematocrit: 24.3 (For comparison, a hematocrit of under 28 merits a transfusion)
Hemoglobin: 8.5 (I'm even more anemic, but we all knew that)
So, my local oncologist is concerned that I might get a fever. Stanford expects the WBC to be so low, but does not want the RBC to be this low. Accordingly, I have a transfusion scheduled for Monday -- how exciting! Let's hope they can use the damn catheter this time!
Speaking of catheter: it sucks. They must have botched the placement or something, because it is absolutely impossible for me to sleep on my side. It gets to be quite painful. So, naturally, I get no sleep. I try to sleep on my back, but then at some part of the night I turn to me side, and later wake up in pain.
This has to be fixed.
Today was somewhat embarrassing. Liz, Barbara, Gloria, and I were planning on attending a symphony. One of the pieces was Rachmaninoff's "Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini," which is a total selling point for me. So I *had* to go. The downside: I had to wear my HEPA/Vader mask.
Naturally, I was the only one wearing such a thing. So I was really standing out. At first, I panicked about what they thought about me: that I was infected with avian flu or something. But then, I got used to it. It wasn't all that bad, plus Liz was quite comforting.
There was only one comment about it. The guy next to me asked rather bluntly, "So, why the mask? Are you contagious or something?" I told him I wasn't, then he went into a lecture about how masks are necessary for the people in Taiwan or something. Apparently, smog is the least of their concerns.
Of course, during the symphony, my phone was off. During this time, I was getting calls from my local oncologist and Stanford. When I got home, I checked my messages: They got my labs and my blood counts were quite low:
White Blood Count: 0.2 (Basically, I have no immune system)
Hematocrit: 24.3 (For comparison, a hematocrit of under 28 merits a transfusion)
Hemoglobin: 8.5 (I'm even more anemic, but we all knew that)
So, my local oncologist is concerned that I might get a fever. Stanford expects the WBC to be so low, but does not want the RBC to be this low. Accordingly, I have a transfusion scheduled for Monday -- how exciting! Let's hope they can use the damn catheter this time!
Speaking of catheter: it sucks. They must have botched the placement or something, because it is absolutely impossible for me to sleep on my side. It gets to be quite painful. So, naturally, I get no sleep. I try to sleep on my back, but then at some part of the night I turn to me side, and later wake up in pain.
This has to be fixed.
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