A glass of red wine. To celebrate.

It won’t cure me but it will help mark a small success of sorts. This afternoon saw another blood letting session followed by a rundown of the results with my Consultant. Work has occupied my mind over the past weeks but yesterday evening I was noticeably anxious. It’s not that there is anything to fear. There’s no pain; no discomfort. But in getting on with life sometimes I forget where I am.

Often normality begins to seep into my extraordinary world. I forget. A hospital day is a reminder of how things are and what my reality is.

Three weeks ago, at the last meeting, my red blood cells and haemoglobin had stayed steady but my whites were on the increase. Were the increase to continue its possible that my chemotherapy would have been brought forward as such I’ve been marking time this week wondering if the run up to Christmas was going to be very different this year.

After a while in the waiting room, catching up on last month’s issue of The Word, the results were in. The meeting was quick and to the point and pretty much standard procedure. I report on me, then I get a report on my blood.

For me I still feel fine, if I hadn’t been to the doctor a few months ago I still may not know. My temperature is level. No fever, rashes, infections. I haven’t had a night sweat since the week I had my transfusion. The only telling sign of my disorder is that my spleen aches if I eat to much, squeezed against my ribs by my stomach, but its like a dull stitch. In an ordinary world I would have put it down to a pulled muscle from sitting awkwardly all day rather than that second (possible third) helping of dinner I just couldn’t resist. My appetite has certainly NOT been affected.

And so to the bloods. My red cells are holding steady, not giving up space to those hairy bastards. The hairies themselves are also holding level. This is very good news. The only count that’s down is my haemoglobin, it’s job is to bind oxygen to the red cells and dish it out as they float around my body.

So I’m definitely not getting some pre-Christmas chemo. What I am going to get is another blood transfusion. Time to top up the iPod ahead of next week. By rights I should be flying to Latvia to close off a project I’ve been working on all year but instead of taking that flight I’ll spend the day sitting in a chair staring out over a Day Ward. It will be less stressful though and it’s an excuse to get out but sometimes I miss being part of the action. Being normal.

Maybe my morning dose of beetroot juice is doing something, or maybe its the meditation, maybe its none of these or both of them combined. Whatever the reason my hairy cells have ceased the expansion of their empire for now and thats the best I can hope for at the moment so I’m enjoying a glass of red wine to celebrate. No matter what you think you’ve read though it really isn’t a cure.