A New Numbers Game

I went to the Andreas Cancer Center yesterday to have a blood draw to monitor the effect of the first chemotherapy treatment, which had been one week prior.  I also wanted to have them take a look at my mouth since I have started to develop some mouth sores that are fairly common with chemotherapy. 

Dr. Singh came into the treatment room and was joking around a bit with all of the nurses when one of the staff walked quickly over to him with a piece of paper, and the only word I heard was “critical.”  The energy in the room shifted, and Dr. Singh walked over to my cubicle area, pulled the curtains then told me he was going to wash his hands and he would be right back.  In my typical in state of denial way, I was quite sure they were talking about another patient in the treatment room, until I heard someone say, “she’s local, she just lives in St. Peter.”  Still in the Dance

When Dr. Singh came back in he told me my counts had dropped to a critically low level.  Particularly the white blood cell counts, commenting that the lab technician could not find a single one.  He said this only happens in about 10% of the cases, and since this was my first treatment, they could not anticipate I would be in that 10%.   Future treatments would be managed differently to prevent this, and to address the current situation I would need to get some kind of shot each day for the next four days, and then they would check numbers again on Monday.  In the meantime, I was to take every precaution to avoid getting sick, which meant frequent hand washing, avoiding sick people and steering clear of crowds and groups.  I had been scheduled to go to physical therapy following the blood draw, but Dr. Singh said he would prefer I not go into that environment with my current counts – so that was cancelled.

Normally I ask for copies of all my lab work, etc.  I like to know all the specifics.  That said, I have operated on a “need to know” basis, and up to this time I had not felt the need to have a thorough understanding of my blood chemistry.  Now I do. 

I am not exactly sure what was in the shot that I received but I know it is meant to boost my white blood cell counts, and I know it is a nasty little bugger that burns when the serum is entering my body.  I go back to the clinic at three today (and Saturday and Sunday) for repeats of this shot. 

In the meantime, I am laying low, or lying low . . . grammar police, help me here. 

I don’t feel as much of sadness as I felt just a few days ago.  I think the word “critical” being bandied about me, kicked up my survival instincts.   As always I am having difficulty staying in the present moment.  I keep wondering what does this mean for the road ahead.  I have a couple of really important events coming down the pipeline – both involve crowds and I want to be at both of them.  A facemask may join my headscarf as necessary fashion accessories. 

It is supposed to get up to almost 70 degrees today, and that thrills me.   The next few days I plan to soak up some of that warmth and cheerlead for my bone marrow.