Rachel Fernando: breaking records since 2017

Here is the full account of what's been going down over the past 10 days:

Thursday 27 July we turned up at the hospital for admission, and the first day of chemo. Before we could start, I needed to have a central line inserted in my chest (this is how they administered the chemo, gave me antibiotics, and other fluids. It'll stay there until I'm discharged, and every morning when I have a shower they put the dangly bits (two lines - kind of like the neck tap) into a plastic bag and tape this to my chest, to prevent it from getting wet). Getting the line inserted was just like the procedure for getting the tap, same doctor, surgery room etc., however the sedation wasn't as awesome as the first time; I was aware of things, like I knew when they put a sheet over my head, and I knew when they inserted the line. But it didn't hurt, and I was still pretty much out to it. 3.5 stars this time.

Anyway, the first day of chemo proceeded in much the same manner as the day of it I had a month before - no nausea or anything - so that was good. The next two days of chemo weren't quite as smooth, although as I mentioned in my last post, it wasn't the worst for me. The time taken for administering the drugs each day was quite short: 30 minutes for the Fludarabine, and 2 hours for the Cyclophosphamide. To be honest, now, I don't remember too much from those three days, mainly because it was all quite uneventful. Nausea came from day 2 of chemo, and has persisted in some form or another, with decreasing severity, ever since. But I'm trying to eat as much as I can (supplemented by muesli bars procured by Peter), given that my regular diet is much different from the options for hospital food. I've lost a couple of kgs, and joked to Peter that we could've brought my wedding dress (which I imagine hasn't fitted since November 2013), but I wouldn't recommend all this as a weight-loss regime.

On Monday (31st) they gave me my stem cells back. After going through the column process, there were 4.7 million left (well above the required number of 2 million), and the filtered stem cells had been kept on ice for the past few weeks in this:

About which my gorgeous sister-in-law, Roshana, completed an observant artist's impression:

My stem cells in the frosted container:

Then they had to thaw them in a bath, which took no time at all:

And then I got them back, which took even less time, sub-3 minutes! The preservative that had been used in the stem cells caused a weird taste in the back of my mouth, like almonds, but yuck:

And then it was done! So quick, kind of anti-climactic! The HSCT protocol makes a big deal about the stem cell infusion day itself - the chemotherapy days were counting up to transplant day being day 0 (i.e. first day of chemo was day -4, with the rest day being day -1). I suppose it makes sense to track the time since the treatment; I am now day +5.

Every morning blood is taken (through the central line), and Dr Loh updates me on how my white blood cells are going - the aim is to get them as low as they can go (eradicating those with memory of MS), until the stem cells have had time to work their magic to produce new white blood cells. Apparently when things turn around, it happens quite rapidly. Usually this is about day +8.

The other day I asked Dr Loh how far the levels typically drop, and (I think she said, lots of numbers fly around here) that the lowest she's seen is 0.1. Today, my white blood cell levels are 0.05. I win (again, might be wrong, but I'll take it for now)!! And it seems clear to me that a fourth day of chemo (the old protocol) is unnecessary. Seriously, MS, you struck me hard, but I'm striking harder back!!

Another correlation to the chemo is a low platelet count, and my corresponding loooooow white blood count equally means that my platelet count is similarly very low. So this afternoon they're giving me a platelet transfusion, which apparently only takes 15 minutes. I'm tricky again though, because I have A- blood, which apparently is rare, so they just injected me with Rho immune globulin, that will allow my body to accept an A+ blood-type transfusion. Fun times with my tricky blood...

So yeah, that's my world right now! I'm feeling much better, so it's really a case of books and Netflix being my close friends.

Here's my cheeky husband; the mask is irritating his face a little bit, but because I'm feeling better, he's not sleeping here, and we're just hanging out from the afternoon - evenings:

And here's me. The caps are on a constant cycle, because I wear them all day and night (they're especially useful doubling as an eye mask at night - see earlier post about bright lights in the room):

Wish me luck for my transfusion, and let's see a white blood count turnaround soon!!

Rach xx