Can I get a high five please?
After a bit of drama yesterday and apprehension this morning, I was seen by a Medically Trained Person who told me that my toothache was a toothache and I could have my treatment today. So, here I am, sitting on the second floor of the Macmillan Centre receiving a litre of liquid, which is a mix of cyclophosphamide (chemotherapy) and saline. To be clear, a litre of liquid administered intravenously is a lot of liquid. Like, a real lot. Two hours worth to be precise and before that, I had two bags of other medicine, which apparently, will help prevent me from vomiting up my dinner later.
This is it. It’s the start. It’s what I have been waiting for for six weeks. Longer. I was devastated yesterday when I thought I was going to have another delay. Right now, all being well, is the beginning of the end of this chapter of My Myeloma. I have waited six months to get to a point where I can see an end, and I can. I don’t want anything to take it away. The drugs are going in me, right now. As sick as I will get from this chemotherapy, I simply do not care. I don’t care how sick I am going to get during the transplant. I just want it to end. And today, is a massive, massive step. It is here.
I have never been so happy to have an IV. See?
Now, let the powers keep me safe and infection free so I can adhere to my word processed timetable.
I just want it to end.