An MDS Patient by Any Other Name

Don't call me Ishmael.

Call me Schizo.

One day I'm up. Next day I'm down. Just like my blood count.

After I posted the blog yesterday, I went back to sleep for an hour. When I awoke, my exhaustion had disappeared. So did my glum mood. Go figure. Then I went to see Dr. Onco and her needles.

Yesterday's count: platelets, 109,000; hemoglobin, 12.3 and holding steady.

This is good, Dr. O declared.

Then, I inquired, why have I been so tired? Exhausted, actually.

She offered no answer. Apparently I'm supposed to be tired during the injection cycle, not after it.

With no further explanation she jabbed me twice and sent me and my revitalized blood count on our way. The count should now go down, and I should grow weary over the next few days.

Ha.

Last time, I was fine for two days, tired for two, and about normal for the remainder of the process. Figure that out.

Still, my daughter tells me that this count indicates more than improvement. It shows—through a significant but not radical platelet increase—that the drug is likely to be working.

True enough. But, this up-and-down is different from golf. There, a successful up-and-down means good recovery and probably par. Here it drives a sane man crazy.

So—call me Schizo.

"Now that you're count's over 100,000," the knowing daughter advised (ordered?), "get on your bike and ride it. While you can."

Maybe I will. Who am I to ignore the sage I've raised?