Epic – Faith No More
I was right to be worried, unfortunately. My light chains are rising. My consultant warns me that I should expect that my next appointment will formally mark “progression”. As recently as July I was predicting that
“my myeloma will probably be back somewhere between 1 and 3 years from now”.
It appears that it will be very much at the early end of that estimate.
Progression will not immediately mean treatment. For that, I get the joy of waiting for symptoms (bone pain, most likely, or anaemia). But I’m now assuming that I will be back in treatment during 2016. This will likely take the form of either ongoing (indefinite) chemo, or another stem cell transplant. I absorb all this information feeling very glum, and walk home feeling incredibly alone.
Then I have the task of passing on the news – first to my Dad, who is looking after Lyndon for the day, and then to Marisa. As always, sharing the news is my least favourite job of all. The lowest and worst part of the whole experience, when I face up to the fact that my illness impacts many people. Writing it down for you is comparatively easy – though it has taken me 10 days to pluck up the courage.