Another 3/4 dose

Head's full of lead, painful, but my legs never got shaky, that's nice. Hole wasn't so deep either, not so dark, damp, lost. Good enough... move along then.

EEEeeewwwoooooo

Adjusting the pace, the bar, the expectations, down a notch.

Got a little ahead of myself, dancy dancy during the last two weeks. A little less meds and I'm all animated, energized, expansive. My chemical line, I suppose. Cross back to full dose, add that last little 45mg, and I'm dead in the water, flat on my back, down on my luck, all shaky and pissed off. Lots of eyebrow raising and wind watching going on today, barely keeping my voice steady. Kicking my butt and hopefully the virus'. I guess that's the point. All right.

So I'm cranking it down, setting my sites on a lower horizon, wide screen view without all those pesky mountain tops. More whale like, scrappy dog, whatever...

Inevitable up

Everything’s up... but I knew that already, call from the doc only confirmed the inevitable full dose this evening... the official 36, only 3 more months to go... then...

Counter forces

First thought this morning was 'Hey, it's Friday, hopeful 2nd 3/4 dose day', shiny horizon, glitter glitter. Then... wait... my head, whoa... is it that time of month already? What? No, I won't believe it. This is nothing... I've got plans today, things to do, preparations to make, driving... I'm supposed to drive today!

Hello, counter forces,
Keeping me on my toes, eh?
Well, all right...

Float like a butterfly,
Sting like a bee,
Bring it on baby,
Drop me to my knees.

I've got patience,
I've got courage,
I've got vicodin,
I've got pillows,
I've got this bed to keep me afloat,
I've got no way out, by choice,
and I'm not scared of you anymore! (scream mime scream)

3/4 dose

Things are going easy now,
That I've reset my stride,
Light on the throttle,
Heavy on the glide.

A little extra mojo,
Unsquashed by the meds,
Survives in my cheeks,
Lights up my dark head.

Easing to the left a bit,
Smooth on the right,
Slowly let my shoulders drop,
Poised for the flight.

Ummm... well... no.

I don't feel any better. In fact I feel like crap. I'm sure I reduced the dose. Maybe if this fat hairy headache would move out of the way I could get a better view. Imagine what I'd feel like from a full syringe. Yeah that's it, I could feel worse, I can see that from here.

I'm sure it's just the accumulated 'thumping' from the last few days, festive festivities, swirling swirling, talk, talk, talk (mostly from others), as I slowly moved from one room to the other. I did pretty good though, proud of myself. The ever present feedback loop kept me in tight check, "nope, put that down, nope, sit down, nope, just smile..." I ate a lot of good food though, watched my daughter run wild with her cousins, watched my extended family consume amazing amounts of alcohol (they're such good catholics). No big family crisis this year though, probably for the best.

Now I'm home alone, just where I want to be; daughter safe at my parents, husband off to work. Maybe later I'll feel better... could be worse... right?

8 month check-up

Everything's holding steady at a reasonable low; except for my neutriphil count (part of the white blood cells) which has plummeted. So they are reducing my interferon to 135 mg (3/4 of a dose) for two weeks. They've had to do that for one week at a time, twice before. This time I guess it's extra low. I didn't write down the number so I've forgotten it, all I remember is the upwelling of pleasure, hope, ahhh...

Reduce my dose? OK!! For two weeks? OK!! My smile was uncontainable... I tried to act concerned, but honestly, I didn't care. The chance to feel better, even a little, was intoxicating. I could tell last time, really, my Saturday was quite pleasant, I remember... though when the dose was brought back up it knocked me down, hard, like a sack of bricks, oh it hurt (pain is relative). But that's OK, I'll deal with that later!

For now, I'm already feeling the effects (though the first shot's not till this Friday). It's the hint of happiness, relief, just a taste, that's carrying me. It's a double edge sword, a catch 22. You don't want the dose lowered if it means the virus survives. I know. I know. I know... AND at the same time, sweet hope of relief... ahhhh...