Jinx

Yesterday, friends, was a good day. Platelet count went up to 44 and I was feeling really good, really healthy. Things were going to turn around.

This morning I woke up with the feeling that my brain was trying to crack through my skull. I took a Percocet, but it didn't work. Neither did my legs. I couldn't stand. I couldn't walk. I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life. I called the cancer center and spoke with the doctor on call who recommended I take ibuprofen (similar to the advice given to me by the radiologist after the biopsy) and yet again I had to explain about the ITP and hear how "I don't have much experience with that, but..." Then he told me to "ride it out."

14 hours later I'm still trying to keep down Gatorade, but my arms and legs have at least decided to work again. But is it the flu? Is it a reaction to the infusion of Aredia? I don't know. Maybe it's both, but I'm not going to jinx myself in the future by being too happy about the small victories. Everything in moderation.

Yesterday's understatement of the day from the doctor: "You spend way too much time here in the office."

I go back again next week.