The day has finally come – up at stupid o’clock, trying to drink coffee where husband can’t see it as he suffers the pre-op fast. He drives to the hospital and we listen to the 60s music we usually listen … Read More
It’s the day before the op. Husband is sitting looking much more relaxed than for his first transfusion. They started at 8 am and finished about 5 pm (bit of a wait for the platelets, probably having a speedy jaunt … Read More
A week later and we’re in for a pre-op assessment of the blood count – 8.6 – haemoglobin ‘ok, would be nicer if it as a bit higher’ comments the Doc. Platelets are down to 61. The Doc is sorting … Read More
Next day husband declares that a transfusion is like 10 bars of chocolate washed down with a mug of espresso:-) . He is determined to enjoy the good weather and his additional energy by having a good walk. We negotiated… … Read More
We were up early so that we could be at the hospital for 8 am. This is to make things easier for the staff by avoiding rush hour (they sometimes have to treat people in the corridor it’s so busy) … Read More
Weekly blood test day. Haemoglobin is down to 7.2. Two weeks ago it was 8.2. Bummer… It really is time for a transfusion. It’s bitterly disappointing since he wasn’t feeling too bad so we’d hoped the numbers would have gone … Read More
He’s going to ask for a transfusion next week. I broached the subject cautiously and he laughed and said he’s just been thinking about the same thing. I hope it helps. It should do. He isn’t the man I was … Read More
When Husband was first diagnosed 3 months ago we were worried about waiting a few days before starting Rituximab but still no treatment. The specialist said that waiting an additional 2 weeks would ‘make no difference’ – sounds bit ominous … Read More
He’s starting to feel it. He hasn’t been able to breathe deeply for some weeks (too uncomfortable) so he’s been shallow breathing but now he can feel the enlarged spleen all the time and it’s making him feel uncomfortable. It’s … Read More
It’s a blessing that we don’t know how many days we have left. I guess if we were told 20 years I’d start to relax (probably shouldn’t) but if we were told 3 years I’d panic. In a sense this … Read More