February 24, 2006
There is something about the weekly blood draw. . . in a way it is a progress report about how the battle between the disease and the therapy is going. Because chemotherapy destroys both the good and the bad cells, there is an expected setback after each round of the treatment, however, it is my understanding that the desired outcome is that the numbers will slowly increase and that the lowest point will begin to rise up off the floor. On the far right side of the laboratory printout is the “Reference Range” which announces what good readings should look like. For example, WBC (white blood cells) should read 4.0-11.0-K/uL. Anything below that count is less than ideal, and as the number decreases, the severity of the illness increases.
I was told that the four most significant markers were WBC, the neutrophils (these are the cells that rush out to meet infections) the Hemoglobin reading (which indicates where one stands in the anemia arena; lowest R. Range number is 12.0, 10 is anemia, 8 and under is blood transfusion time) and the platelet count. My readings yesterday were pathetic, the lowest so far. Most notable were the WBC at 1.0 and the neutrophils at 0.1. These readings indicate that I am virtually without immunities from germs and such both without and within. So far, so good, however, because I have not had infections; my hand washing habits have improved dramatically, and I take the bodily inventory each day to assure myself that some awful bacteria hasn’t decided to do a take over while there are no guards at the door.
Meanwhile. . .
Alphie, our dear chocolate lab came back from the five day event at the kennels a changed dog. He has not jumped up on either Charles or myself since returning home and he hasn’t opened his great mouth to playfully run his large teeth across our wrists or arms once. Prior to this, he would leap up and frequently take a sleeve or glove in his mouth with a bit more vigor than even the most besotted dog owner could call “cute”. No more. Now he still greets us joyfully, but with appropriate decorum; Charles says that he doesn’t know what transpired, but perhaps he was reminded that he is a dog and that we are humans and thus superior.