Sunday, January 17, 2010

MDS Becomes AML - Chemotherapy Day 6

Yesterday was a tough one. It started at 4 a.m. with a nose bleed. Well, actually, more like a bleeding nose drip. The drip continually woke me over the course of the rest of the morning, and revived itself whenever I moved to an upright position.

The hours in which I was able to sleep were filled with vivid and strangely Buñeul-esque dreams. Very intense, with marked story lines that made no sense.

Then the stool softener kicked in.

As I've documented often, Zofran, the anti-nausea med, causes constipation. Even though the chemo and the other anti-nausea drug Reglan, should've counteracted that by causing diarrhea, I was stopped up like a clogged bathtub drain.

The stool softener cleared that clog. Way too clear.

So, there I was with a constant nose bleed drip exacerbated whenever I stood upright, commuting to the boy's room and having nightmarish cinema dreams between.

Dr. O arrived and immediately stopped the Reglan. I guess she'd read the movie-dream reviews and didn't like what she'd read. That eliminated the in-the-head movies.

She also stopped the stool softener, but like earthquake aftershocks, we're still getting some seismic reactions from that. Laina has banned me from eating Raisin Bran til the aftershocks stop. It's all about Rice Krispies for me now.

And, Nurse Kate appeared with some surgical gel and 10-inch swabs (one-use q-tip kinda things) for gelerizing my nose. Just how long she thinks my nose is I'm not sure. She commanded me to swab periodically and—whatever you do!—not to dare blow my nose.

The drip continued all day, helped along no doubt by a platelet count of 5,000.

Platelets were transfused.

The drip continued.

Football was watched.

The drip continued.

More football was watched.

The drip finally abated.

But, now, I couldn't breathe.

You know how hard it is to resist clearing a completely stuffed nose that you can rid of obstructions with one good blow?

This morning I finally gave in. The bleeding held off. What a relief.

I shall continue to swab.

So, today is Day 7. The last chemo bag is dripping into me as I write. Nurse Amy says it'll be done by 9 tonight. "It started a week ago at two," I protested, " I want it done by two this afternoon."

She laughed. Apparently this is just another aspect of my situation over which I have no say or choices. I'll try not to watch the bag deflate drip-by-drip.

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