‘Are you on your own?’ asked the Prof.
‘Yes, this is the first clinic appointment Bernard has ever missed.’ I said, thinking do I need someone with me?
After B asking about my paraprotein level he missed being told the news. Although I don’t yet have my PP figure, my IGa which was 18 on 11 February is now 0.44! WOO HOO. Although I didn’t feel so much like woo hooing by the end of the conversation as I ended up a bit dazed and confused.
I heard once that a good number of patients either do not remember or misinterpret the information supplied by their doctors. I have never considered myself one of these, I mean I take a notebook to jot down pertinent points for goodness sake, however this is what I remember the Prof saying…
We met before when I graciously acquiesced over the steroids.
These are two medical students from Hong Kong, where I go to teach sometimes. Do you mind if they sit in?
Can I call you Paula? I feel old enough to be your father.
You’ve tolerated the medication well
This is your IGa (swivel of computer screen).
Do you have any brothers or sisters?
We will have put you on the international donor register.
You will see me from now on.
I propose two further cycles of Velcade and Doxorubicin but over four weeks instead of three so you will get an extra rest week and then a donor transplant.
WTF? No, that was me not him and I didn’t actually say it out loud as such but it did surprise the sass out of me briefly, although I managed to ask if the students reported back on him when they got home.
What did you think would happen?
I’d have eight cycles of Velcade and if that worked we’d leave it alone. (Don’t trouble trouble as a friend says.)
In view of your age it would be wrong of me not to mention a donor transplant.
WTF? – again!
There is no point doing a second transplant with your own cells in view of the results of the first one.
You will/should have a donor stem cell transplant.
Ultimately though it is your decision.
I’ll see you in four weeks.
And although I did have my mocha and Eccles cake alone I got to enjoy the conversation of two elderly ladies at the next table – apparently one of their friends had paid £1,000 for a porcelain sink over part of which she now permanently drapped a tea towel so it didn’t get damaged and it was nearly handbags at dawn over who had the bigger house – and B arrived in time to take me for a late lunch.
Oh, and B decided he’d like to treat himself to a bag of fresh cookies from a little Tesco on the way back to the car. They didn’t have what he wanted so as he was selecting I suggested he may want to go wild as we should be celebrating and woo hooed a little bit too loudly for the man further down the aisle who didn’t stop staring at me until I was past him.
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