No #8

We were at the lab this morning to see if my blood counts had come up enough for me to go into the hospital tomorrow for my last chemotherapy, the ever elusive Round #8. Then we went across the hall to hematology to see Dr. Lonial for the verdict.

"You're done," he said as strode into the examination room, brisk as usual.

Jimmy and I stared at each other with "Huh?" expressions on our faces.

"No more chemo; you're done," he said. " Your counts still aren't up high enough, and the dangers of more toxicity to your bone marrow outweigh the benefits. We've been hitting you pretty hard for six months now, and these last few rounds were precautionary anyway. We haven't seen any evidence of cancer in months."

So.

I have a PET scan scheduled for Friday, then an appointment with a doctor in radiation oncology. They think that peanut-sized thing that used to be a tumor is just scar tissue, but they may want to zap it with a pop of radiation. I hope not. I REALLY don't want any radiation, but I'll talk to them.

I guess we should be jubilant about this turn of events, but to tell you the truth, I think we're just numb. We're both pretty worn out, and have been dealing with nasty summer colds for the last week.

I'll let you know what we learn Friday.

One more week

Dr. Lonial doesn't want me to get any more chemo until my counts come up, and I have an appointment next Tuesday to get them checked... then MAYBE Round #8 can start next Wednesday, 4 weeks later than planned. But we think he's made the right call.

Another delay?

Round #8 has already been postponed for 3 weeks, so we felt certain I'd be admitted to the hospital tomorrow, but today the blood tests showed my platelets to be 66, still below what they want them to be for more chemotherapy. Dr. Lonial was out of town today, and Charise, one of the PA's, said he'd make the decision in the morning about whether to proceed or to delay again. On one hand, we are so anxious to get this over with, but on the other, it makes Jimmy and me nervous for me to take another hit when my bone marrow is obviously exhausted. I'll let you know.

One spoiled dog

Lupper

Jimmy and I get on the weirdest schedules, and lately we've had our days and nights turned around. We both have been sleeping a lot anyway, and when you combine that with the fact that we stay up into the wee hours reading, some days we sleep LATE.

Today Jimmy said, "I know you call a meal between breakfast and lunch 'brunch', so what do you call a meal between lunch and supper?"

I know the English call it "tea", but we've decided that, for us, "lupper" is more appropriate.

Another postponement

As you may recall, I was supposed to have treatment #8 last week, then it got postponed until today because of my low blood counts. Now it has been put off AGAIN because my counts are still too low. We hope that by next Wednesday I will have rallied enough for more chemo. All of this is cumulative, and I've been hit so much that it's getting harder and harder to recover.

My WBC and RBC are low, but as usual, my platelets are the main problem. They are still only 44 and they want them to be 75 at least.

I don't feel too badly, just lethargic, and ready to get this over with. Jimmy is fine - his usual sweet wonderful self.

And I apologise for not updating sooner. My chemo brain fog just gets worse and worse.

Andy guards my favorite Highlands perch

My 8th and last chemo session was supposed to start next Wednesday, but it has been postponed until the following week so my body can be a little more recovered before then. My counts are respectable, so they said we could go to Highlands.

We got here yesterday afternoon, and it is amazing how much better I already feel in this environment. It has been such a godsend, having the apartment in Atlanta; it's perfectly comfortable and so convenient to Emory, but you can't help feeling closed in, and the brutal heat deters going outside.

I've spent the day taking Andy for short walks, and resting in the swing, reading, and breathing the sweet cool mountain air.

Tuesday

We spent most of the day at the cancer center where I got a bag of platelets and two bags of blood - all of my levels are in the cellar again. I don't feel as badly as I did last round though. Maybe all the red meat helped, and the 40 mg of steroids I've been taking every day this week probably has me pretty wired, too. And I have bright pink chipmunk cheeks.

Don't peek: what do you call a group of foxes?

A few weeks ago, when I was having a good day, Jimmy and I went to a great restaurant, the Niko Bistro, for lunch. (As you have probably surmised, food has become our primary form of entertainment.)

On our way in, I was admiring a sculpture of a skulk of golden foxes, before I read the little sign that told about them. They were done by Michael Stipe, the weird-looking, bald, emaciated lead singer for R.E.M., that great rock band from Athens, Ga. Multi-talented guy.