This morning I was back at the Cancer Center, where they took three vials of blood for the usual tests, plus the Big Tests that will tell us if the Revlimid is working. I'm supposed to get those results on Monday, but I've had to wait up to a week in the past, so I'm not holding my breath. Right now, I've convinced myself that it's not working at all and I'm doomed. We'll see.
My CBC was really good, except, of course, for the hemoglobin, which went back down to 10.9. It's better than my all-time low of 10.0, but I don't know what I have to do to get that stupid thing up into the normal range. The nurse told me to take "frequent rest periods throughout the day." Mmm hmm. With a two-year-old. As Homer Simpson once said, "You're living in a world of make-believe! With flowers and bells and leprechauns and magic frogs with funny little hats."
My INR was once again 1.7, which Dr. GPO thinks is perfect. Once they got the results, they went to go check with him to make sure my Coumadin dose should stay the same. He came out to the waiting area just to tell me in person how perfect 1.7 is. "We don't need to get it up any higher than that," he said, "because we're just trying to prevent clots, and you're healthy, you don't smoke, you're young, and you're thin."
Right after he left, I thought, "Wait, did a medical professional just announce to the entire waiting room that I am young and thin?" That almost cancels out my feelings of doom. Almost.