On October 10th I was put back on four cycles of
drug therapy. This was to consolidate my treatment and hopefully get rid of any
last remaining cancer cells. It would include four cycles of velcade which I
was still entitled to with a government subsidy, having only used five cycles
before my stem cell transplant. Along with the weekly shots of velcade I would
take antibiotics, a daily dose of thalidomide, and the steroid dexamethasone
once a week.
On October 29th I had
hopefully my last appointment with Dr Doom. I was dreading it the night before
and wouldn’t let Alex even discuss it. I was sure she wouldn’t be able to say
anything positive. I had just had my first post-transplant blood test to check
the protein level in my blood. This would indicate if there was any cancer
left. To my surprise the doctor was more jovial than I expected. She was
actually smiling. But she told me there was a trace of the cancer left. My
urine showed light chains (an identifiable protein and an indication of
multiple myeloma) was in the urine. She termed my result a “very good partial
remission”. I didn’t like the “very good” or “partial” parts of the sentence. I
always thought the words “very good” were a bit coddling. I was disappointed. I
wanted a 100% on my report card. I wanted the cancer to be undetectable.
Instead after nearly a year of taking drugs and going through the transplant,
the little buggers were still simmering. My face must have fallen because she
immediately said it didn’t mean much. She said people who had a complete
remission (translated to excellent full remission rather than very good partial
remission) after their transplant, didn’t fare better in the long run.
She
said she was glad I was getting four more cycles of velcade and thalidomide and
that the drugs would hopefully beat the rest of the cancer. I couldn’t
understand how four more months of therapy would change anything after all I
had been through. But this meeting became about options and that is what really
gave me some hope. She said she had a drug trial going and there were others.
She even said “by the time” I needed the new drugs they would probably already
be mainstreamed. I knew an allogeneic transplant was not off the cards either
as my sister had been proven to be a match. So even after four months there
would still be choices to make to continue my fight. Choices are everything. As
long as there are choices there is light. Then, because she couldn’t help
herself, she said something outrageous. It started with an apology for never
visiting me in hospital.
“I’m sorry I
never got to see you. You were out too quickly.”
“Yes, I was only
in two weeks.”
“I was dealing
with people who were (laughs) falling apart (laughs). You were doing fine.”
I immediately thought of those people “falling apart”. I
didn’t think it was funny. Those are people whose lives were being ruined.
Maybe I’m being melodramatic but I was pretty horrified by her manner. Then
again, I guess you have to be the type of person who can spend your day with
those “falling apart” and still sleep soundly at night. Of course it takes all
types. But I was glad to be out of there and hoped to never be back.
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