So I'm not sure what the game plan is at this point. The steroids make me hungry, occasionally sleepless, and give me a dull headache (not to mention long term steroid use has major negative impacts on bone health and can cause bone degeneration and osteoporosis.) I've tried Ibuprofen, as well as a very expensive ibuprofen gel, at the urging of one of my doctors to help with the joint pain. Neither have helped. All I know is that my joints ache like they never have before in my life - and it's not the weather (or my age...I would hope, at 38).
In recent testing, my vitamin D level also came back very low. They are having me take 50000 IU of vitamin D weekly for 12 weeks to try to bring it up to an acceptable level. The doctor said that low vitamin D could play a role in my fatigue, and that it may get better as my level increases. I've taken 3 doses so far, and I'm not running any marathons, so we'll see if it gets any better. I had an appointment scheduled with an endocrinologist to check that my adrenal glands are functioning correctly, but had to cancel when I went back on prednisone, as the testing cannot be done accurately while on steroids.
Good news is that my BCR-ABL test came back (this is the test that I've been having ever since i was diagnosed that tests the "cancer level" for CML). Before I went to transplant, my number had inched back up over 5%. My recent BCR-ABL was negative. Meaning no cancer. No leukemia. For the first time in almost 5 years, I can say that I don't have cancer. At all. Most CML patients in this day and age never get to say that, so in that respect I feel very fortunate.
As much as I hate to say it, I have to admit that I feel like a horrible and ungrateful person most of the time, because to be honest, I felt physically better before my transplant. I felt physically better with low levels of cancer, than I do now almost 5 months post transplant. There it is. No caveat to add to that, no "well at least..." I'm happy that I don't have cancer any more, but I'm sad about the things that treatment has cost me.
I've been trying to lose some of the weight that I seem to have acquired. (No one ever tells you that's going to happen. They tell you about the chemo nausea and weight loss, but they never tell you about the medication weight gain.) It's coming off twice as slowly as it went on. I purposely gained 15 lbs before I went into the hospital, thinking that it would help me once chemo killed my appetite. That never really happened for me, and with three months on high dose steroids, I gained another 15 lbs. In the past 6 weeks, I've managed to ditch 7.5 lbs, but it's been a struggle, especially since I'm on steroids again, and they make my stomach think my throat's been cut (aka I'm always hungry), and exercising a lot has been difficult since my ankles and toes start killing me after about half an hour on my feet. Struggling, but trying hard.
Hair is also coming in a bit more. Every week I can see a little less scalp, so that is a good thing. Very soft, and kind of dappled in color. I've heard that it often comes in curly - like Richard Simmons curly - after chemo treatment. So far, laying pretty flat in most spots, so I hope to dodge that bullet.
Almost real hair |
Still traveling to UCLA every two weeks. Sometimes (especially when the weather or traffic is horrible) it feels like a waste of time, since my doctors don't really know what to do about my recent joint issues, and according to them, compared to other transplant patients, I am doing "so, so well". I don't want to be compared to other patients, though. I want to be better than *I* was before. Maybe I have unrealistic expectations.
I write to you as a CML patient of almost 10 years. Congratulations on the undetectable PCR! I'm close, but not there yet - maybe never will be, as you know all about that whole drill.
ReplyDeleteFirst, don't feel guilty about your feelings - they're all understandable and legit. You've basically been cut loose from any plan or work, this after having had a very clear intense plan for every step and for so long. Plus, you're in pain. When you feel bad, everything's bad. Period. Both of these, coupled with the hair thing, are enough to take the edge off the elation over "zero cancer."
Think about this: Things changed so much for you - change after change - and you adapted and held fast. Don't you think it's possible more change is in store? The good kind this time? It may take awhile, but isn't it possible that your life will soon/eventually change for the better?