Today has been an eventful one, to say the least. I've learnt a great deal about my treatment and pleasingly there was a lot of good news. For starters the preliminary results of my chromosome test came back and it looks like there's no Philadelphia chromosome to be seen. To explain, with many cases of leukemia this chromosome is present and is an abnormality, leading to complications in treatment which may further lead to a bone marrow transplant (numerous if an exact donor is unable to be found), stem cell treatment and difficulties in fully eradicating the source of the leukemia. So as you can imagine, hearing that I'm lucky enough to not have it has left me in superb spirits. Onwards and upwards from here!
That's not to say everything's going to be plain sailing. Tomorrow morning is a busy one indeed, and at about 9.30am I'll be having my Hickman line put in. Hickman lines are wonderful little creations. Acting as a tap of sorts to your bloodstream, it enables transfusions and blood tests to happen without the psychological trauma of needles and syringes. I've become quite tired of having more holes in me than a Tetleys teabag, and in a ward such as the Haematology ward, it truly is the ultimate fashion accessory. Once 'installed' in the upper right corner of the chest, it can stay as part of the body for up to a year, meaning that a difficult treatment period can be made much more simple. Quite the gadget, you would agree.
There are difficulties though. Namely the procedure involved. Any time the nurses have said the words 'local anesthesia' in the same sentence I can't help but bust out the cynicism card. Last use of local anesthetic? Bone marrow biopsy. Feelings of anguish and despair? Through the bloody roof. So naturally undergoing a procedure that literally involves crafting a bit of plastic to your skin and tissue, no matter how undeniably cool that bit of plastic is, is a bit terrifying. Call me a wimp if you will, but even Robocop would think twice about this one.
Moving on, I'm also undergoing a lumbar puncture tomorrow, a perhaps equally painful and disturbing procedure which involves injecting needles into my spine. This is significant though as it officially marks the beginning of the first phase of my chemotherapy. This is it, the real deal. Considering how much waiting the last few days have consisted of, everything feels a bit surreal. On the one hand I feel like a small child at Christmas, eager to bomb it down the stairs in the morning to unwrap his presents and eat all the Quality Streets. But then the fear of it all is hard to shake off, no matter how determined you are to get on with things. Some sleep will clarify my thoughts I hope, but tomorrow will certainly be another momentous day of my life.
It's time for bed now. I've got 300ml of blood being pumped into me as we speak and the sensation is just as bizarre as it always is, but I seem to get tired from blood transfusions and drift off quite easily. If you're looking for a hair update, it's still sitting comfortably atop my crown, which is nice because having hair is generally a great thing and it feels soft. Unfortunately though I'll be needing to get a move on with liberating it should I want to avoid the distress of seeing clumps of my own hair on the floor of the shower room. I'll keep you all posted.
Love you all.
Ryan
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