2/2/22  It's Wednesday.  

The only reason I am writing on my blog tonight is so I can write 2/2/22.  I just realized I put the wrong date on last night, so I already fixed it.

All of my side effects disturbed my oncologist this morning.  I wrote them in a note and gave it to the nurse while I was in the infusion room this morning, getting my Prolia injection.  As soon as I was finished, I was escorted to an exam room and the doctor walked in 2 seconds later.  That's a record.  I figured if I was lucky, I'd get to see a PA today, since I didn't have an appointment until Friday.  So, that was a surprise.  I was also sent down for labs, which was unscheduled for today, also.  She went over my note with me and took me off all 3 drugs until further notice.  I'll see her again a week from Friday and have labs again.  She is hoping my counts will be closer to normal by then.  My white count is 1.6.  For those of you unfamiliar with those numbers, that's in the toilet.  I'm surprised she still allowed me to have my discogram at noon today, but I'm not complaining.  Some of my side effects had her stumped, but most did not.  She said I should begin to feel better in 4-5 days.  I sure hope so.  If I don't get better, that means the drugs were not the cause, and that's bad.

Last night was a buggar.  Simply miserable.  Little, to no, sleep.  Painful, and short.  I tried to be quiet so David could sleep and I think I only woke him up once.  He has no idea what my night was like and would only feel guilty for sleeping through it, so let's let this be our secret. He was up till the wee hours of the morning, painting my office and had to be in town (in the truck) waiting for me all day today.  We didn't get home until 4, or something like that.  I was pretty loopy on the way home and on into the late afternoon/evening.  I got frustrated at my cell phone and called David in to help me fix it.  It wasn't working right.  Turns out, it wouldn't have made the call I was trying anyway.  I was trying to call Phyllis, my sister who has been dead for 7 years.  I was crying.  David told me I needed to rest and took my phone away.  Later, when he helped me get up to go pee, I remembered she was dead.  It was awful when I learned that.  More crying.  I got upset at him for not telling me in the beginning, but, in hindsight, he probably was caught off-guard and wasn't sure what to do.  

The discogram was very painful.  I had to be awake for the whole thing and didn't get time-release pain meds until the very end.  (Hence the loopy look)  He put stuff in 3 of my discs and poked and prodded on them while I told him if they hurt or not.  At one point, I asked him to come closer.  He asked me why.  I said so I could slap him.  He said, and I quote, "I'll take that as a yes."  I was pretty skeptical that he could re-create my pain.  I was wrong.  He did a very good job.  I was on my stomach, under an x-ray machine so he had a guided tour of my spine.  After 1/2 hour or 45 minutes of fun, I went to recovery for 1/2 hour, then they took me for a CT scan.  The contrast was already in my joints, so they removed the IV beforehand.  That was the 5th time I was stuck in my right arm today.  And that was enough.  Now I miss my port.

I'm not nearly as loopy tonight, hence the excellent job posting on this blog.  I'm hoping tonight will be better, but to tell you the truth, I'm afraid to go to sleep.  Tomorrow will be a brand new day!  Cold as a witch's tit in January, but new.

I've had ice packs on since I got home and tomorrow I can shower/bathe again.  I forgot to tell the surgeon that I even shaved my legs this morning for him.  Dang it.  He would have felt special, I'm sure.

Oh, that reminds me -

February:

The month of Love and Valentines!  It reminds me of chocolate!  And chocolate is the relationship that you don't have to shave your legs for!  I love chocolate.


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