Health Matters Not

It's been awhile since I last blogged about my health condition so I should probably be a good girl and get it down in writing before I forget everything.  I tend to forget a lot of things.  Like everything pre-February 15th, 2012 is a blur.  Which means I take neither credit nor blame for anything that happened in the blur period.  Period. 

I am still taking my at-home chemotherapy pills to help kick-start my puny blood platelets.  Those lovely little devil-pills with all their nefarious side-kicks who try to strangle me every time I consume them.  Twelve pills a day, twice a day for the last three and half months has gotten so old it's using a walker now.  (Haha! I crack myself up.)  About a month ago my doctor, Dr. Yunus, decided to increase my cyclosporine (chemo) dosage which, in turn, increases the levels of the drug in my blood.  Which is all well and good except for those nasty cyclo-headaches that sneak in on me every once in awhile.  (Lortab, you are aMAZing!)  For the first two and a half months my cyclo blood level was kept around 150, but with the dosage increase I'm around 375, which is very near the safe limit of 400.  Dr. Yunus was hoping the increase of cyclo would increase platelet production.  So far, no good. 

I went in yesterday morning to the nearest clinic (although it was an hour away) to get a simple blood draw to check my cyclo and blood count levels.  All my counts were down and my platelets were nine.  Nine.  Sheeze Louise.  (When your platelet count is below ten it's necessary to get an infusion of platelets; too dangerous to have them run so low.)  I was sent across town to the main hematology clinic to see Christie, the mighty provider of all things blood related.  She hooked me up with a bag of platelets and also offered me blood since I was near the too-low threshold with my other counts, but I declined.  It felt very odd to turn down blood.  It's not like she offered me a stick of gum or a soda.  Things that make you go, hmmm.  Lesson learned: the next time someone offers you life-giving blood, you should take it.

My visit to the hema clinic took over five hours.  It is the nature of the medical system, I suppose.  On the bright side, I had a private room with a nice recliner, the Food Network channel, and a free lunch.  Besides getting stabbed twice to get an IV started, it was actually a very relaxing day.  Completely unexpected, but relaxing.

Dr. Yunus is doing his best to get the drugs I'm taking to work.  He does believe that the medicine is helping with my red blood counts, but not my platelets. When I asked how long I would have to take this medicine, his reply was, "until it stops helping at all."  He is unsure of how long that will be.  He told me there were other drugs I could take but he did not think they would be affective.  The only other option is a bone marrow transplant and Dr. Y told me last Friday (Feb. 10) that he went ahead and initiated a search for a BMT donor.  Yuck.  I really don't want to do one of those.  I really, really don't. 

This past Sunday Dr. Jackson preached a message from 2 Timothy 2:3, "Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus." (ESV)  Suffering cannot be avoided; we must all share in it.  I have decided that if the future holds "suffering" for me, then I shall be a good soldier.  Many others have suffered and will suffer much worse than I ever will.  I will not complain; I will just be thankful to be His.