Well, I started Iclusig (Ponatinib). The warnings and cautions seem to escalate with each new drug I take. This one is the scariest of all, by far. Not scarier than untreated leukemia, though. I read through the package insert provided with my meds. Lots of not good things, and dire warnings. Then I folded the info sheet back up, threw it in the trash, and swallowed my first two pills. I've been swallowing them for a little over five weeks now. So far a few oddities...dry peeling skin on my face (weird), middle toe numbness for several days, freezing bum (don't know if it's related, but it's persistent - may just be the season changing), some bone pain. None of the big scary's though, so I'm doing good.
Did you hear that? I said I'm doing good. I whispered it, actually. I'm afraid to shout it from the rooftops yet, but so far, according to the blood work that I've had done (just regular monitoring, no cancer testing yet) many of my blood counts seem to be improving. Hemoglobin - up. No recent transfusions for me. White blood cell count - up. Just finally breaking into the "normal" range. Platelets - sucky. But the same sucky that they have been for the past year and more. Two out of three? I'll take it.
No news yet on if Ponatinib is working to reduce the leukemia cells. Testing in a couple of weeks, so time will tell, I guess. I do guess, and hope and pray, and whisper. But I don't shout it out. Not yet. I'm not tempting fate.
Showing posts with label Blood Transfusion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blood Transfusion. Show all posts
Friday, September 16, 2016
Sunday, November 1, 2015
Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire
Being on 50 mg Sprycel was nice. Nice to not have to watch the bruises bloom on my arms with the slightest bump, and nice to be able to go more than a couple of weeks without a blood transfusion. Alas, it was not meant to be. While my blood counts initially recovered on a lowered dosage of Sprycel, they eventually began to fall again, and my PCR - the test that measures the percentage of leukemia cells present in my blood- tripled in a matter of six weeks.
So here I am again, back on a full 100 mg dosage of Sprycel, with blood counts falling faster than ever. I've had a total of five blood transfusions so far this year, and am fully expecting to be needing another in the immediate future. But, now, even that is complicated. I had an allergic reaction to the a transfusion I had in September - 5 days worth of fever, chills, and diarrhea - so I now need a mega dose of iv benadryl to make it through. The last transfusion (October) went off without a hitch, although I had to fight hard to stay awake. For those that have never had iv benadryl, as soon as they administered it I felt immediately drugged. My tongue felt too big for my mouth, my eyes wouldn't keep up with my brain, and I had to consciously try to figure out if I was breathing. (I was.)
I'm not sure what exactly went wrong, but, apparently the more transfusions that you have, the more chance there is that you can develop antibodies post transfusion that recognize the donor blood as foreign, resulting in the immune system attacking the donor red blood cells. I think that this is what happened, as two weeks post transfusion, my blood counts were at pre-transfusion levels (hemoglobin was low at 6.9) and I required yet another red blood cell transfusion. (I usually get four to six weeks between transfusions.) There has to be a better way, right? Apparently not.
My doctor has decided that I need to see a Specialist as I am not a "typical, easy case" and in his words, he'd much rather have "someone holding his hand" regarding my treatment. I'm all for it. Waiting for my records to be sent over for a specialist appointment at Loma Linda. Waiting, and waiting. I do an awful lot of waiting.
And so, I'm back in the same predicament - the same f'd up cycle - except it seems to have become a bit more accelerated, with blood counts at record low levels, and staying there, and PCR still well above 1% after over 18 months of treatment. In case I haven't mentioned it, having cancer sucks.
Friday, August 14, 2015
Partly Sunny Skies
This post is long over due. A lot has changed since my last entry. After months of low blood counts, I hit an all time low in July with my hemoglobin clocking in at 6.6. That's about half of normal. That's like,"she could have major organ failure at any time" levels. I felt tired, but not any more so than usual. Still schlepped it to work everyday, AND Keith and I rode our bikes about 4 miles to see the fireworks on 4th of July. What can I say? I'm a champion.
Due to dangerously low counts, another blood transfusion ensued. Thank you to the person in Arizona that helped to keep all my systems functioning for another couple of weeks. (Keith and I like to make a note of where - which state - the blood I get comes from, and wildly conjecture about, and do hilarious imitations of, the imagined person that donated it.)
Finally, my Dr decided that enough was enough, that something had to give, and has cut my Sprycel dosage in half. Whereas I was taking 100mg daily, I am now swallowing pills half that size. And...drum roll please...on one front, at least, it seems to be working. I've had two follow up appointments since changing dosage, and both my platelets and my hemoglobin have inched their way up. Incrementally. Side effects so far seem to have been regaining a little bit of color in my face and lips, and Keith not checking my breathing every morning when he wakes up to make sure that I'm still alive. It's not a big "ta-da" moment yet, but most definitely, it feels like the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds and shining on me, if only a little bit.
My BCR-ABL (cancer levels) are still higher than I would like seeing as how I'm 16 months post diagnosis. Most Dr's would like to see your levels at .01 by 18 months, which is a milestone of treatment referred to as "major molecular response". Considering that mine was 9.8% when last measured on 7/2/2015, I most likely won't hit that deadline. As long as I continue to go down, and do not have a spike on the lowered dosage, I'll be happy.
All in all, thank goodness my blood counts are beginning to stabilize, I'm feeling a bit more energetic (Keith and I went kayaking last weekend), and life is becoming a bit more normal. Don't get me wrong, I'm still on the two week blood draw schedule. (I'm there so much that the receptionist knows my name on sight.) And my blood counts are still nowhere near "normal" - if a Dr that didn't know my history read my labs, he'd probably poop his pants and wonder why I haven't been hospitalized - but I'm making forward/upward/positive progress, and that's more than I've been able to say for a long time.
Forecast - Mostly Sunny.
Hurray.
Due to dangerously low counts, another blood transfusion ensued. Thank you to the person in Arizona that helped to keep all my systems functioning for another couple of weeks. (Keith and I like to make a note of where - which state - the blood I get comes from, and wildly conjecture about, and do hilarious imitations of, the imagined person that donated it.)
Finally, my Dr decided that enough was enough, that something had to give, and has cut my Sprycel dosage in half. Whereas I was taking 100mg daily, I am now swallowing pills half that size. And...drum roll please...on one front, at least, it seems to be working. I've had two follow up appointments since changing dosage, and both my platelets and my hemoglobin have inched their way up. Incrementally. Side effects so far seem to have been regaining a little bit of color in my face and lips, and Keith not checking my breathing every morning when he wakes up to make sure that I'm still alive. It's not a big "ta-da" moment yet, but most definitely, it feels like the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds and shining on me, if only a little bit.
My BCR-ABL (cancer levels) are still higher than I would like seeing as how I'm 16 months post diagnosis. Most Dr's would like to see your levels at .01 by 18 months, which is a milestone of treatment referred to as "major molecular response". Considering that mine was 9.8% when last measured on 7/2/2015, I most likely won't hit that deadline. As long as I continue to go down, and do not have a spike on the lowered dosage, I'll be happy.
All in all, thank goodness my blood counts are beginning to stabilize, I'm feeling a bit more energetic (Keith and I went kayaking last weekend), and life is becoming a bit more normal. Don't get me wrong, I'm still on the two week blood draw schedule. (I'm there so much that the receptionist knows my name on sight.) And my blood counts are still nowhere near "normal" - if a Dr that didn't know my history read my labs, he'd probably poop his pants and wonder why I haven't been hospitalized - but I'm making forward/upward/positive progress, and that's more than I've been able to say for a long time.
Forecast - Mostly Sunny.
Hurray.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Vampires and Pincushions
I've been doing my best impression of a pincushion this week. I've been poked by needles six times in five days. Just after I'd commented on how it doesn't phase me anymore I was put to the test.
My Tuesday appointment was an absolute waste of time. When I got there, I found that the lab had "lost" my blood work. (Needle poke one.) The nurse told me that they had sent her the wrong info, for someone with a name very similar to mine. (If they transposed them, poor Rachel Ball is going to get the shock of her life.) The doctor had nothing to tell me, except that he was going on vacation the next week, and so had me go back to the lab and give blood again (needle poke two), and scheduled a Friday blood draw (needle poke three). Hemoglobin came in at 7.9 on Tuesday, with platelets actually coming up a little from the previous week at 32 instead of the dismal 22 of the week before. White blood cell count stayed the same. On Friday, my hemoglobin and platelets actually held, which made me think that they had gotten things mixed up again, and were reading the wrong results, except for the fact that my white blood cells came up a little. Maybe this is the beginning of an upwards trend. Fingers and toes crossed.
Despite the fact that my hemoglobin held, my doctor scheduled me for a blood transfusion, anyway. Because he was going on vacation, and would not be in the office for ten days, he didn't want to take any chances that my red blood cells would tank again. So, after driving down the hill on Friday, coming back up, and working a full work day, I had to go back down again to the hospital to get crossed and typed (needle poke four) for a blood transfusion on Saturday.
I was late to my appointment Saturday. This was my first time receiving a transfusion at the "transfusion center". The nurse monitoring the transfusions was irritated with me for being late, and wiggled the needle around in my forearm (needle poke five) for a couple of minutes, unable to get the vein, before giving up, and placing in the inside bend of my elbow (needle poke six). Yes, I have gotten used to needles and blood draws, but if you've never had one, IV needles are the pits. I can't look at them when they put them in. They're about the size of a sewing machine needle - stiff long and painful.
They pushed two units of blood, and this time, it went much quicker - about three and a half hours total. Downside to the quick transfusion was that I was freezing cold by the time I finished. They keep the blood refrigerated, and you can apparently get hypothermia, if you're transfused too quickly. I had to go out and sit in the sun for ten minutes to warm up at all, and looked like a crazy person wearing a fleece lined sweatshirt in 75 degree weather.
So this week, I look like a junkie with bruises all up and down my arms, but I can breathe and I don't have any tightness in my chest, so I suppose it's worth it. That, paired with the fact that I don't have to see the doctor again until the 15th makes me feel like I'm on vacation myself.
My Tuesday appointment was an absolute waste of time. When I got there, I found that the lab had "lost" my blood work. (Needle poke one.) The nurse told me that they had sent her the wrong info, for someone with a name very similar to mine. (If they transposed them, poor Rachel Ball is going to get the shock of her life.) The doctor had nothing to tell me, except that he was going on vacation the next week, and so had me go back to the lab and give blood again (needle poke two), and scheduled a Friday blood draw (needle poke three). Hemoglobin came in at 7.9 on Tuesday, with platelets actually coming up a little from the previous week at 32 instead of the dismal 22 of the week before. White blood cell count stayed the same. On Friday, my hemoglobin and platelets actually held, which made me think that they had gotten things mixed up again, and were reading the wrong results, except for the fact that my white blood cells came up a little. Maybe this is the beginning of an upwards trend. Fingers and toes crossed.
Despite the fact that my hemoglobin held, my doctor scheduled me for a blood transfusion, anyway. Because he was going on vacation, and would not be in the office for ten days, he didn't want to take any chances that my red blood cells would tank again. So, after driving down the hill on Friday, coming back up, and working a full work day, I had to go back down again to the hospital to get crossed and typed (needle poke four) for a blood transfusion on Saturday.
I was late to my appointment Saturday. This was my first time receiving a transfusion at the "transfusion center". The nurse monitoring the transfusions was irritated with me for being late, and wiggled the needle around in my forearm (needle poke five) for a couple of minutes, unable to get the vein, before giving up, and placing in the inside bend of my elbow (needle poke six). Yes, I have gotten used to needles and blood draws, but if you've never had one, IV needles are the pits. I can't look at them when they put them in. They're about the size of a sewing machine needle - stiff long and painful.
They pushed two units of blood, and this time, it went much quicker - about three and a half hours total. Downside to the quick transfusion was that I was freezing cold by the time I finished. They keep the blood refrigerated, and you can apparently get hypothermia, if you're transfused too quickly. I had to go out and sit in the sun for ten minutes to warm up at all, and looked like a crazy person wearing a fleece lined sweatshirt in 75 degree weather.
So this week, I look like a junkie with bruises all up and down my arms, but I can breathe and I don't have any tightness in my chest, so I suppose it's worth it. That, paired with the fact that I don't have to see the doctor again until the 15th makes me feel like I'm on vacation myself.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
More Good News...
I've only ever donated blood once in my life. (And all things considered, knowing what I know now, I hope they poured that bag of it down the drain.) It was back during my college years, and the blood-mobile would make regular appearances on campus. One day, I thought "What the heck? Lets spend an hour doing something nice for someone else." It did not go smoothly. Don't get me wrong, it came out all right, but then, as I was sitting in the back sipping some juice, everything went sweaty and black. I woke on the floor, half jammed under a seat of the bus, clutching my "I gave blood!" pin, in a puddle of orange juice. Not the ideal experience.
Given that little episode, I was pretty surprised when I received a card in the mail a couple of weeks later, thanking me for my donation, and giving my specimen an A+. I swelled with pride. Good job, me. Until I realized that the A+ was my blood type, and not a grade.
Since that day, I've probably had to have blood drawn for testing over 100 times. If ever I was squeamish at all, I got over it long ago. Most of you probably don't know this, but every time they draw blood they ask you if you have any history of problems with blood draws...I lie every time.
So while I've only ever given blood one time, I've been the recipient of it on numerous occasions. First, in the hospital when I was diagnosed with CML and undergoing leukapherisis (I think that the process pulled out too much of the "good cells" along with the bad.) Now, once again, over Memorial Weekend they topped off my blood supply.
Pretty sure that my doctor hates me. Why else would he send me to the emergency room over the Memorial Day weekend? Oh, yeah, hemoglobin 7.1, and the feeling that my chest was caving in - that's probably why. My appointment on the Friday before the holiday weekend left much to be desired, as my red blood cell count fell again. Platelets and white blood cells held at pretty much the same marginally crappy levels from the week before, but the hemoglobin keeps going down down. Hemoglobin at 7.1 is pretty darn low. Most people get a blood transfusion at 8.0, but I seem to feel well enough at 8. Below 8.0 is considered severely anemic, and below 6.5 is considered life threatening. So at 7.1 I was flirting with disaster. To be fair, my doctor did try to send me to the hospital to get "typed and crossed" that afternoon, but considering that it was 3pm on the Friday preceding the holiday weekend, everyone at the transfusion center had left for the day. As my hemoglobin level seemed to be falling .2-.5 weekly, my oncologist did not want for me to have to wait until the following Tuesday to get a transfusion, so he told me to go to the Emergency Room over the weekend.
I tried to get out of it. Told Keith that I was feeling fine. But when you're panting for breath after folding a load of laundry, that "I'm fine" line is a tough one to sell.
I completely expected that the Emergency Room would be expecting me. Thought that my doctor would have made some kind of arrangement to get me in and out fast. Thought wrong.
When we got there on Saturday, they were mercifully not busy. There were only a couple of people waiting, and by the time I had signed in and used the restroom, they were calling me back. I waited in a triage room for about half an hour, when a Doctor finally came over to interview me. I gave him the spiel. "I have leukemia. My hemoglobin was at 7.1 as of the 20th, and instead of waiting until Tuesday to come in for a transfusion, my oncologist told me to come to the emergency room." Yeah, I don't think that he was listening. Or else he didn't believe me. I look pale, but otherwise remarkably healthy for a cancer patient with severe anemia, so he ordered a chest x-ray, an ekg, and a blood test. I submitted, with a little irritation, fully aware that this little trip was most likely going to take all day.
And it did. After jumping through most of his hoops - I refused to pee in his cup, but I submitted to everything else -finally my blood test comes back, and the doctor comes up to me, honestly looking a little alarmed, and says that they are going to give me a unit of blood. My hemoglobin level is at 6.8. Super. Make that two and I'll be out of your hair.
He refuses two. Really? Depending on height and weight, one unit of blood will generally raise your hemoglobin about 1 full point. So at 6.8, one unit is only going to get me to 7.8. Considering that I've been trending down as much as .5 weekly, that will mean that I'll be right back around where I started in a little over a week. And I definitely did not give up my Saturday to be right back in the hospital again in a week.
So they give me a bed, and they give me a gown (if you're in a bed you've got to wear a gown) and a nice nurse named Jordan puts in an IV, and I wait for my blood. Did you know that it takes anywhere from 2-4 hours for each unit of blood transfused? Me neither. The last time I went through this, getting blood was the least traumatic of everything that was happening to me, so I wasn't really watching the clock. They hook me up, and everything goes well. No reactions. And the pressure on my chest begins to lighten, and my color begins to return. (I've been looking a little ghostly.)
As the last bits of the bag are pumped into me the doctor comes over and asks how I'm feeling. "Better," I say. "It would be nice, if you could give me another unit, though. I understand if you guys are busy, and you need the bed, but I feel like if I don't get two, I'll be right back in this position next week. My doctor did want me to have two." He gives in. So that'll be another couple hours I don't want to spend there, but I'm considering it the lesser of two evils. Better another two hours in the emergency room,than another whole day.
They start the next bag at about 7pm. We've been there since around noon. Since I didn't have any complications, they were able to transfuse me quickly, and it only took about 2 hours for each unit. When I'm done, they unhook me, flush my line, and pull my IV. Dismissed. Literally. No escort to the door, no spotter to make sure that I can walk. That is literally that.
As we walk to the car, I notice that all of my chest pressure is gone. I check myself in the side mirror, and my lips are actually pink. While the thought of getting someone else's blood pumped into you is pretty gross, the reality of it is a blessing.
So the past week I've been amazed at how much better I feel. I can actually breathe deep breaths and my heart doesn't race when I walk out and get in my car in the mornings. I even took a hike. A very slow, out of shape, heart pumping hike - but it feels good to be able to exercise a little bit again.
Given how much better I've been feeling, I was a little shocked that my numbers this week were so bad. Or "sucky" as my doctor called them. After an entire 12 hours at the emergency room, and two units of blood, my hemoglobin this week is at 8.3. We were both hoping for something better. Even worse, my platelets have plummeted to 22, and my ANC has hit an all time low at 699. If it's not one damn thing, it's another damn thing.
The choices are pretty limited at this point. Choice one are stimulating drugs like procrit for the low red blood cells and neupogen or neulasta if my whites get too low. There are some pretty scary risks associated with accepting these drugs, so understandably, I'd like to keep my use of them to an absolute minimum, if at all possible. Choice two are transfusions. There are also risks associated with red blood cell and platelet transfusions, like allergic reaction, or contracting something from the blood product that you've been transfused with, ranging all the way from the big scary HIV or hepatitis, to a less scary virus. And choice three, stopping Sprycel for a period of time to allow my counts to regulate/come back up. The biggest issue with this one, is that while my healthy cells will hopefully rebound, so will the leukemic cells, and the cancerous cells may once again multiply unchecked. Like my blood counts, my choices are pretty sucky.
Doctors plan of action for this upcoming week has been to change my appointment to Tuesday, instead of Friday in case I need another transfusion. That way, one can be arranged before the weekend. Personal plan of action for this week - soldier on.
Oh joy.
"Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end!" - Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
Given that little episode, I was pretty surprised when I received a card in the mail a couple of weeks later, thanking me for my donation, and giving my specimen an A+. I swelled with pride. Good job, me. Until I realized that the A+ was my blood type, and not a grade.
Since that day, I've probably had to have blood drawn for testing over 100 times. If ever I was squeamish at all, I got over it long ago. Most of you probably don't know this, but every time they draw blood they ask you if you have any history of problems with blood draws...I lie every time.
So while I've only ever given blood one time, I've been the recipient of it on numerous occasions. First, in the hospital when I was diagnosed with CML and undergoing leukapherisis (I think that the process pulled out too much of the "good cells" along with the bad.) Now, once again, over Memorial Weekend they topped off my blood supply.
Pretty sure that my doctor hates me. Why else would he send me to the emergency room over the Memorial Day weekend? Oh, yeah, hemoglobin 7.1, and the feeling that my chest was caving in - that's probably why. My appointment on the Friday before the holiday weekend left much to be desired, as my red blood cell count fell again. Platelets and white blood cells held at pretty much the same marginally crappy levels from the week before, but the hemoglobin keeps going down down. Hemoglobin at 7.1 is pretty darn low. Most people get a blood transfusion at 8.0, but I seem to feel well enough at 8. Below 8.0 is considered severely anemic, and below 6.5 is considered life threatening. So at 7.1 I was flirting with disaster. To be fair, my doctor did try to send me to the hospital to get "typed and crossed" that afternoon, but considering that it was 3pm on the Friday preceding the holiday weekend, everyone at the transfusion center had left for the day. As my hemoglobin level seemed to be falling .2-.5 weekly, my oncologist did not want for me to have to wait until the following Tuesday to get a transfusion, so he told me to go to the Emergency Room over the weekend.
I tried to get out of it. Told Keith that I was feeling fine. But when you're panting for breath after folding a load of laundry, that "I'm fine" line is a tough one to sell.
I completely expected that the Emergency Room would be expecting me. Thought that my doctor would have made some kind of arrangement to get me in and out fast. Thought wrong.
When we got there on Saturday, they were mercifully not busy. There were only a couple of people waiting, and by the time I had signed in and used the restroom, they were calling me back. I waited in a triage room for about half an hour, when a Doctor finally came over to interview me. I gave him the spiel. "I have leukemia. My hemoglobin was at 7.1 as of the 20th, and instead of waiting until Tuesday to come in for a transfusion, my oncologist told me to come to the emergency room." Yeah, I don't think that he was listening. Or else he didn't believe me. I look pale, but otherwise remarkably healthy for a cancer patient with severe anemia, so he ordered a chest x-ray, an ekg, and a blood test. I submitted, with a little irritation, fully aware that this little trip was most likely going to take all day.
And it did. After jumping through most of his hoops - I refused to pee in his cup, but I submitted to everything else -finally my blood test comes back, and the doctor comes up to me, honestly looking a little alarmed, and says that they are going to give me a unit of blood. My hemoglobin level is at 6.8. Super. Make that two and I'll be out of your hair.
He refuses two. Really? Depending on height and weight, one unit of blood will generally raise your hemoglobin about 1 full point. So at 6.8, one unit is only going to get me to 7.8. Considering that I've been trending down as much as .5 weekly, that will mean that I'll be right back around where I started in a little over a week. And I definitely did not give up my Saturday to be right back in the hospital again in a week.
So they give me a bed, and they give me a gown (if you're in a bed you've got to wear a gown) and a nice nurse named Jordan puts in an IV, and I wait for my blood. Did you know that it takes anywhere from 2-4 hours for each unit of blood transfused? Me neither. The last time I went through this, getting blood was the least traumatic of everything that was happening to me, so I wasn't really watching the clock. They hook me up, and everything goes well. No reactions. And the pressure on my chest begins to lighten, and my color begins to return. (I've been looking a little ghostly.)
As the last bits of the bag are pumped into me the doctor comes over and asks how I'm feeling. "Better," I say. "It would be nice, if you could give me another unit, though. I understand if you guys are busy, and you need the bed, but I feel like if I don't get two, I'll be right back in this position next week. My doctor did want me to have two." He gives in. So that'll be another couple hours I don't want to spend there, but I'm considering it the lesser of two evils. Better another two hours in the emergency room,than another whole day.
They start the next bag at about 7pm. We've been there since around noon. Since I didn't have any complications, they were able to transfuse me quickly, and it only took about 2 hours for each unit. When I'm done, they unhook me, flush my line, and pull my IV. Dismissed. Literally. No escort to the door, no spotter to make sure that I can walk. That is literally that.
As we walk to the car, I notice that all of my chest pressure is gone. I check myself in the side mirror, and my lips are actually pink. While the thought of getting someone else's blood pumped into you is pretty gross, the reality of it is a blessing.
So the past week I've been amazed at how much better I feel. I can actually breathe deep breaths and my heart doesn't race when I walk out and get in my car in the mornings. I even took a hike. A very slow, out of shape, heart pumping hike - but it feels good to be able to exercise a little bit again.
Given how much better I've been feeling, I was a little shocked that my numbers this week were so bad. Or "sucky" as my doctor called them. After an entire 12 hours at the emergency room, and two units of blood, my hemoglobin this week is at 8.3. We were both hoping for something better. Even worse, my platelets have plummeted to 22, and my ANC has hit an all time low at 699. If it's not one damn thing, it's another damn thing.
The choices are pretty limited at this point. Choice one are stimulating drugs like procrit for the low red blood cells and neupogen or neulasta if my whites get too low. There are some pretty scary risks associated with accepting these drugs, so understandably, I'd like to keep my use of them to an absolute minimum, if at all possible. Choice two are transfusions. There are also risks associated with red blood cell and platelet transfusions, like allergic reaction, or contracting something from the blood product that you've been transfused with, ranging all the way from the big scary HIV or hepatitis, to a less scary virus. And choice three, stopping Sprycel for a period of time to allow my counts to regulate/come back up. The biggest issue with this one, is that while my healthy cells will hopefully rebound, so will the leukemic cells, and the cancerous cells may once again multiply unchecked. Like my blood counts, my choices are pretty sucky.
Doctors plan of action for this upcoming week has been to change my appointment to Tuesday, instead of Friday in case I need another transfusion. That way, one can be arranged before the weekend. Personal plan of action for this week - soldier on.
Oh joy.
"Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end!" - Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
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