Yesterday was quite good fun - over to the in-laws for sunday lunch, my brother-in-law is a magician when it comes to cooking beef - he abandons it over an open fire and it comes out gorgeous every time - I wish I knew how he did it, but then I would have no excuse for sitting watching him cook...
I don't know who's idea it was to play tennis, but I rather wish I hadn't. It reminded me of how fit I am not, and also running around in the sun when you're a) full of sunday dinner b) full of pinot grigio and c) bald, is not really the best idea. Was slightly worse for wear when we got home, and this lead to many in-depth intellectual discussions of whether it is actually possible to have either too much sunshine, too much roast beef or too much pinot grigio. I know that the answer to all of those is technically "yes" but it does seem wrong for a great afternoon to be "too much". Hey ho... The comedy surfaced about 1am when I really couldn't sleep... not the ill-effects of any of the fine food & wine, more that about half of my hair has fallen out but the other half is still hanging in there and growing well - so I have ever-extending stubble across my head. This means that not only do I suffer the velcro effect when trying to slide across the pillow, but at certain angles it feels as though I am trying to sleep with my head in a bramble patch. I dare say the macho men who regularly shave there heads (and I do seem to count quite a few amongst my friends!) reading this will laugh at my wimpishness but I really couldn't bear it. So my poor dear husband was up at 1am shaving my head for me so I could get some sleep - he really is a hero to put up with such madness!
I went off to the hospital for my blood test this afternoon. They took the blood ok, the line is still clear and working well, which is good news. I asked about the anti-clotting injections - these have been making me quite nervous, with the injection site bruising like mad and sometimes bleeding for 12 hours afterwards. The nurse looking after me bleeped a doctor to come and talk to me and also took extra blood - this was sent straight up to the lab for a platelet count, and the messenger was told to wait for the results. Fifteen minutes later I had the results of the blood test and a doctor to talk to - what more could I want? It seems that the dose I am on is appropriate, and this sort of bleeding is not unusual. My platelet count is very good, so the likelihood of uncontrollable bleeding seems low, and she recommended that I stick with it for another cycle and see how it goes. So I will do that and keep an eye on things. I am already a mass of bruises, going sailing at the weekend will probably generate more... but life is like that. My poor old tum (the injections go into the fat around my waist)(good thing there is so much of it) will be even more battered over the next few days - stuffing the anti-clotting stuff in as well as the stuff to build my white cell count, two injections a day - very dull indeed. Nearly as dreadful as what my ex (who has insulin-dependent diabetes) has to do every day of his life... It's amazing how every time I start to feel sorry for myself I manage to think of or see something that reminds me that life really isn't so tough for me. It's a bummer when I get really worked up for a bout of self-pity and it's snatched away like that...
No comments:
Post a Comment