One of the complications of myeloma is a compromised immune system, and the increased risk of picking up an infection. A slight fever, cold or chest infection, for example, could become quite serious for someone in my position and as a result I am advised to call the Clinical Haematology alert number if I’m feeling unwell and/or my temperature goes above 37.5 degrees C. I try to stay out of harm’s way by limiting my exposure to potential harbours of germs. My employers at Pulsant have been great in allowing me the flexibility to work from home, and as per the advice of the team at the NCCC, small children are pretty much banned from our house. Coughs ‘n sneezes spread diseases, so said the old 1940s public information film.
But, despite all my best efforts to stay clean, on Friday I started feeling rather unwell; sore throat, chesty, coldy, and then on Saturday morning my temperature spiked to 38 degrees. We phoned the number and they told us to come in and, long story short, I was admitted overnight for observation, and to take a short course of intravenous antibiotics. The hospital staff as usual were all fantastic; helpful, professional, and they made my stay as enjoyable as it could be in the circumstances. I took whatever medication came my way and so anyway, my temperature came down and I began to feel a bit better. After a restless night’s sleep and with my temperature in check I was set to go home the following morning to convalesce. I began to count down the hours and minutes until the consultant sent me on my way with some antibiotics. Having time to spare in a hospital ward afforded me plenty of time to gather my thoughts. Primarily overwhelming sadness that I was unable to be at home with my wonderful family - “it’s not for long”, my mantra of self-reassurance. But I also started feeling guilty; for occupying a bed when I don’t think I feel all that poorly, like a cuckoo in a nest of genuinely sick people. I mean, I know it wasn’t my decision to stay overnight but still. And then as I sit and stare into space I remember the pickle I’m in and why I’m really here. Oh, yeah ok.
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Today begins the second cycle of chemotherapy treatment. As mentioned, I’m on a two week on, two week off cycle so essentially it’s one cycle of treatment per month. The day began with a consultation in the Myeloma clinic which proved to be very useful indeed. We discussed my current state, how I’m coping with side effects and previous blood test results. Interestingly my previous bloods have shown a very positive reaction to the first cycle of treatment; protein levels have dropped right down and our consultant seemed confident this may reduce the number of chemotherapy cycles I need to endure. Nothing is certain of course and we’ll see how we go, but it mean the looming stem cell transplant could be scheduled a month or two earlier - well away from Christmas, which would be nice. We moved on to maintenance therapy and discussed our fundraising efforts, and we took our consultant’s view on some of the options we might have for obtaining the Revlimid drug when we get to that stage. A very interesting and productive morning.
Then we we moved on to the drugs stage; up to ward 36 for more bloods, and my Zometa infusion before a brief hiatus, returning later in the afternoon for my Velcade injection. Once again, I didn’t leave empty handed - a plastic bag this time (tsk) but full of more of the good stuff I need to take over the next 28 days. Aside from the fatigue, soreness and light-headedness, I feel like I’m already kicking this myeloma’s ass, and if these blood tests continue to show a downward trend, the data just might start to back that up. |
About meI'm David Jameson, I live in Whitley Bay with my beautiful wife Janine, our two children and our two dogs. I love music, and Newcastle United. And I have multiple myeloma. Archives
June 2020
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