transfusion

On March 6th 2013, 4 years ago today, I had a drip infusion of “high dose” melphalan; the first part , and really the main event, of my stem cell transplant. (The actual transplant, a day later, was merely a salvage therapy to stop the melphalan from killing me.) Its consequences were physically gruelling, and it was the beginning of a month’s forced separation from my family (we weren’t finally reunited for 6 long, desolate weeks, during which time I missed Lyndon’s first birthday). But it was also the beginning of my recovery from the illness which had consumed me over the previous year.

And much to my amazement, my recovery seems, for now, to continue. I am feeling well. I haven’t succumbed to immune-compromised infection at all this winter. The pains in my bones seem all mechanical, rather than myelomal, and not getting noticeably any worse.

For the first time ever, I bunked a hospital appointment, last month. I was overseas, working, and I didn’t remember to cancel/reschedule in time. So I’m currently on just about the longest break I think I’ve ever taken from the haematology waiting room. I’m going back in next week, so I will get an update on the numbers then. But to be honest, up down or level I really do not care, as long as I feel well.

The only drip infusion I’ve had recently was this gin one, in a dubiously themed bar in Herne Hill. Gin tastes A LOT nicer than melphalan. And gin takes less time to recover from, too, no matter how high the dose.