Of Catheters and Cats

A few weeks ago I started thinking in earnest about two things...one was getting my cats back, the other was getting rid of my catheter (for you novices, this is also knows as a central line...go watch some old ER reruns). I learned two things. One was that my cats could be tested for a nasty bug called toxplasmosis, which is especially verboten for people with weak immune systems, blah blah blah. My doc also said she'd need to give me a blood test related to my ability to clot and then they would look to scheduling the catheter removal, which is kind of a big thing where you get lots of drugs, etc.

Hurdle #1: cats test negative. All systems are go.

Hurdle #2: on the day I'm supposed to get that blood test, I go in to get my regular lab work done and am completely freaked out when I see that my white count, which had been three-point-something one week earlier, was now 29.5. This can only mean very bad things. My doc confirms my worst nightmares....they have seen leukemic "blasts" in my blood.

I said, "Fuck." My mom said "Fuck." What else is there to say?

I wish I could give you all some insight into what this means for the future (this is where an old-school disney-style demon of some kind says, "future? You have no future. Ha ha ha hahahahahahaha") but I don't know much. They are reducing my
anti-rejection meds in hopes that Mister Man will fight with the Leukemia, which is what he's supposed to do. I guess he's gotten comfortable eating frozen mac-and-cheese in front of the fake fireplace and can't be bothered. Whatev, Mister Man. They have also reduced the steroids to zero, and as a result of both of these things, I feel like shit. But as of today my WBC is going down and that's the first thing that needs to happen.

Basically, they tell me that they now have to try to manage this as a chronic disease (and the demon says, "chronic? What a joke! Sounds great unless you have an ACUTE, AGGRESSIVE DISEASE. But go ahead....") I have no idea what this will look like, or for how long. Yikes. But there are new trial drugs on the horizon, and who knows what they'll come up with. And if Mister Man will get off his ass, maybe we can beat it back.

Any way you slice it, though, it's shitty news, which is why this photo is apropos - yes, that is Fez and Johnny Cash, and Yes, that is my kitchen. Martha brought them Saturday. Thank you, Martha.

(and yes, that photo at the top depicts a tree growing, literally, out of an abandoned building, which also seems apropos. Especially since it's in Asbury Park, which is surely the most tortured beach town in the northeast. Mom, Martha and I went there on Easter. I'll post a few more photos soon.)

More soon - love - thanks -

Leah