Back to reality

After taking the red eye from San Francisco to Boston Sunday night, I basically sleep-walked through two appointments in Boston yesterday.

I started out at 10:30 by seeing Dr. Goguen about the spot on my tongue that she had been treating for a fungus. She said it had gotten smaller but was still there and offered me the choice of (A) two more weeks of "swish and spit" and dissolving a medicated lozenge in my mouth, or (B) getting a biopsy which would hurt enough to require pain medication.

I chose A even though the medication is gross. I need to go back in two weeks for her to check it again.

Then I walked from Dana-Farber though the connectors to Brigham and Women's, grabbing a bite to eat at Au Bon Pain and then going across the street to catch the shuttle bus to Mass General...and promptly falling asleep.

I woke up at my stop to cries of "Miss, miss!" – and an empty bus.

Next I saw Dr. Neel about the squamous cell cancer on my lip. He voted for taking it off with a Mohs procedure rather than possibly waiting around for a face fry. He said I'd only lose 1/10 of my lip, and he'd stitch it together so that after it heals, it would only look like a wrinkle.

Hip hip hooray for another wrinkle!

I especially dislike the thought of getting cut on my lip, so I'm already planning on taking an Ativan.

Actually, I'll be glad to get it done because it stings most of the time.

It was a beautiful day here, with our rolling hills starting to turn color. I loved San Francisco, but it is nice to be home.

Counts are good

I read a very hopeful story yesterday about a young girl with leukemia, near death after chemotherapy had failed to keep her in remission, who received an experimental treatment that gave her a new chance at life.

Last April, when Emma Whitehead was six, doctors at Children's Hospital in Philadelphia gave her a disabled form of the virus that causes AIDS in an attempt to reprogram her immune system. The experiment worked, and seven months later she remains cancer free.

The New York Times ran a beautiful photo of Emma and her mother smiling together. It's always encouraging to read about promising new cancer treatments, and it caught my eye especially because it was about leukemia.

Coincidentally, I read the story while waiting to be called in for my two-month checkup at Dana-Farber. I had driven to Boston that morning through fog and pouring rain, fueled by glazed Munchkins and coffee.

My counts were good – about the same as last time – except that my platelets went down a little, to 86, out of a normal range of 155-410. But they have bounced around in the same vicinity for a long time, and my doctors remain unconcerned.

My hematocrit – 35.7 – was normal for the third time in a row, qualifying me for getting a pint of blood taken out to lower my ferritin. In an odd way, I was looking forward to it. Anything to take even a little less of the nauseating Exjade, which is the main way of lowering ferritin.

Melissa was about to schedule the "blood-letting" but then said I should wait until the next time because the procedure would make me a little anemic, which would not be good right before I go away.

I'm leaving on Sunday.

Yikes!