Drips and the Electric Chair

I had the third and last of my chemo-drips yesterday, but from today we're on to an extended regime of multi-drips instead.  Two different drugs (Cyclosporine and Mycophenolate) which assist in preventing the body from rejecting the Transplant.  This of course is a Good Thing (don't want my body rejecting the transplant without considering the alternative options properly; and I am rather relying on it to come to the sensible conclusion), but it does mean that I'm hooked up to the Drip Machine for 6 hours a day.  That's 3 lots of 2 hours, the last one starting at half past midnight tonight.  So a new skill required, sleeping while being dripped.  The nurses assure me it's no problem, so who am I to disagree?

And thank heavens for the Hickman line (see Hickman & Marrow post of 3rd Feb), which makes these drips easy and painless, and without which I'd have more punctures than the Tour de France.

Only side-effects so far have been wooziness and tiredness from the chemo (glad that's over then) and a very slight headache from the Myco-whatsit last night.  Nothing that a couple of paracetamol couldn't deal with though.

Which reminds me:
Q: Why aren't there any painkillers in the jungle?
A: Cos the parrots eat 'em all...

And the Electric Chair?

Not the US Death Row version, happily, but a very comfy Recliner which changes position at the touch of a button and makes sitting about all day a veritable pleasure.  However, I have had to evict Julia from it most ungallantly because it's not big enough for two.  Nothing to do with the fact that I can't get a look-in on my new iPad cos Julia is addicted to playing Harbourmaster on it.  Not entirely inappropriate for a one-time shipping executive, I know, and it's keeping her quiet, but also increasing her stress levels, I fear.

Had time to get out for a walk in the countryside with Julia this afternoon in between drips.  Grey, drizzly February day, but great to get out of confinement for a while.  Until/unless my neutrophils drop below a count of 1 (official definition of neutropoenia), I'll still be allowed out from time to time, which is v nice to know.

D-Day tomorrow: TBI (Total Body Irradiation - a 20 minute burst of radiotherapy) followed by the Transplant.  But the timing is still uncertain and won't be fixed till tomorrow morning (Wed 16th), so I'll try and get time to post a comment to this posting tomorrow when I get the schedule.  So that you can target all those Luuuurv Lasers.  I'm not expecting any pain (thank goodness) but my poor old Bod is in for a Biiiiiiig Surprise.  It's coping well so far.  Long may it last.