Yesterday the effects of Monday's vast consumption of x-ray dye finally faded away. On the day of the scan, once I had returned home to carry on working, parts of my body would go cold on the inside. The feeling would come and go in a matter of seconds but served as a reminder that some weird chemical was sloshing around my bloodstream. First my forearm went cold, then later the back of my head. A hand. At one point an eyeball. As the day passed the time between these anomolies would lengthen and they would become more subtle, like echos slowly dying away into the distance.
The only other noticable side effect has taken a few more days to subside. I won't go into details suffice to say that anything I consumed went through me at speed and I am thankful that the desk where I now work is staggeringly close to my bathroom.
My colleagues will have been glad that I am working from home.
On Friday then as my body returned to relative normality I readied myself for a trip to the hospital and prepared myself for the results of the scan. First on the agenda, as always, was a blood test. The ordinarily packed waiting room was practically deserted, the usual crowd of pregnant women and deathly ill no where to be seen. I'm wondering if the daily mixing of these groups has finally had its inevitable effect or if swine flu is on the up and all are obeying the messages and staying well away. Three vials were drawn and, bidding the nurse a good weekend, I walked across the corridor to await the results.
My red blood cells are where they were two weeks ago, meaning I am managing to hang on to the ones I gained through my blood transfusion which is good. They are not at the level they'd be if I was completely healthy but there's enough of them rattling around to stave off the need for another transfusion for now. I am still a pretty normal colour and am also able to run up stairs without getting out of breath.
White cells are on the increase. Not the good ones though. The hairy ones are multiplying but not at a rate that seemed to concern my Consultant. There is certainly no reason to rush treatment and it is looking as though that will almost definitely happen in January. By that time, it is hoped, Swine Flu will have come and gone - or not come at all - and Christmas too will have passed. The aim is to start Chemotherapy in the New Year but to get the worst part of my treatment out of the way before I become a father. I only hope that this is how things actually pan out. It's certainly going to be tight.
And so to the size of my spleen. As I had already seen at the beginning of the week it is big, the generous proportions being a side effect of my disease as the hairy white blood cells accumulate causing it to expand. My concerns that it might need to be removed or that it may burst were quickly dismissed much to my relief. Spleens it would seem are not inclined to pop once they reach a set density. They will instead simply continue to expand until they fill the entire abdominal cavity so that there is room for little else.
"They get bigger that that!" my Consultant assured me as she pointed to my pregnant wife's belly. On occasion this Leukaemia is only discovered when the patient loses weight through not eating because they always feel full. The spleen having squashed the stomach to an extent that there is little room for food.
I'll admit to immense relief to not having to undergo a Spleenectomy and am assured that it will shrink somewhat after my treatment as all the cells inflating it are killed off and flushed out. There was however a slight pang of disappointment that it wasn't a medical marvel to be gazed at in awe at by the Hematological fraternity. Probably just as well. Were that to be the case I doubt that I would be around to relish the fame.
What is marvelous, apparently, are my hairy blood cells. Trust the little blighters to steal the limelight! Hairy Cell Leukaemia is very rare and as a result difficult to study. The majority of blood samples from sufferers contain very few cells and for today's hematology student they can be pretty hard to spot. My cells, I am told, are in great abundance and are blatently hairy, as a result a teaching hospital has asked if they can use the slides in their lectures.
If I can get a copy of the slide for myself then maybe one day they'll put in an appearance on this blog and we can all finally see the cause of all this fuss.
