... and it's my M-spike. Thanks a lot, Marcia Brady! There's no way I'm voting for you for head cheerleader now!
My M-spike -- that's the measurement of the abnormal protein in my blood -- was 3.8 in April. Now it's up to 4.2.
"That's a pretty chubby number," said my doctor.
Great. Even my blood has trouble fitting into its old jeans.
The good news is there's still nothing else wrong with me. My iron level went down a tiny bit, but it's still (barely) within the normal range. My doctor's still recommending no treatment right now, but she'd like me to have tests every two months rather than every three months, and she'd like me to have another round of x-rays at my next appointment, just to make sure my bones are still OK. Jay and I decided we'd like to come back here in September rather than going to my Kansas City guy. It's a pain to travel so far, but we feel like this is the best place to be.
Not the greatest news, but I think the best way to deal with it is to go into denial and spend too much money at The Mall of America this week. Now let's redo my doctor's appointment and give it a Scooby-Doo ending:
Doodly do, doodly do, doodly do, doodly do ...
DOCTOR: It turns out this cancerous bone-marrow doesn't belong to you at all! It belongs to ... (pulls a rubber mask off of an innocent-looking intern to reveal an angry old man)
KAREN: Old Man Withers -- the owner of the haunted amusement park!!
OLD MAN WITHERS: And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you meddling kids!
Ah, Scooby-Doo. Soothes the soul.