February 3 2006
Today I am almost finished with the ten injections of Neupogin, a drug intended for the building up of white blood cells. Each week, blood has been drawn to see what the numbers are, and if the hematocrits reading (having to do with the red blood cells) is less than the number 40, an injection of Arinesp is given. This is yet another drug meant to help build up the red blood cells. Low red blood cells means anemia, and that in turn means that there isn’t enough oxygen moving about, making the heart work harder and great tiredness a part of each day. The blood indicated that the numbers are dropping rather than gaining, or even holding their own. Somehow, I had concluded, wrongly, of course, that the first round of chemotherapy and the injections that followed would mean that surely, improvement would be evident. When I heard the number, I started to cry, and I didn’t want the nurse to see this, so I turned my back to her as I put on my coat. A hand filled with tissues reached over my shoulder, and this was followed by a hug. “Hope and pray, hope and pray” she said.