Curve ball

So I have my morning appointment with a psychologist and come out fairly pleased when she identifies my personality type as a Phoenix, I like this I have the bird tattooed on my back. (re the blog entry Phoenix)

At lunchtime I have my blood test and it's sore, which gets me worrying over just how much discomfort I am going to have to bare this week. In fact I feel a real compulsion to leave the hospital and go home right then. Soon, however, we are ushered into the appointment with my consultant oncologist, she asks how I am and how I feel about this next round. To me I end up sounding like I'm having one long whine - I'm tired, my skin is dry and peeling, my veins in my hands and arms ache, my head hurts.... The list goes on! So all in all I am in two minds with regards to the next round; I'm not a quitter, it will take a lot more than that to make me give up but on the other hand it is the second harshest regime to be put through and in my case it might not work so am I wasting precious time feeling so awful?

Here comes the curve ball, I'm not whining, the numbers from my blood tests show it has hit me hard. After three weeks my body should be ready to take the next blow, but it is not. My white blood cell count is low, as is my haemoglobin and my iron levels. No wonder I don't feel so hot. Perversely I feel angry at my body for a second; not only is it destroying itself but it can't with stand the treatment. This is quickly replaced by relief as I hear the consultant say she isn't happy to proceed this week. Instead having hear my reluctance toward this treatment she decides we should test now for its effectiveness and next thing I know I am down the hall waiting for a ct. scan.

Little did I expect this morning I would be facing this answer so soon. Do I want to know, am I ready for this knowledge?