Sure glad we didn’t go to the Cape. I don’t want to knock Cape Cod medicine, but it would have been a rough week if we were up there. Lobsters and low white blood cell counts don’t go well together.
After gaining strength for the last few days and getting briefly out of the house a few times, the predicted white blood count drop (called neutropenia) came late last night/early this morning, and I have made a triumphant return to the Hospital at Penn. We got here early this morning, and they kept me in the ER for 10 hours until a bed opened up. 10 hours of listening to the lunatic in the ER room next to me scream for help, bang her arms on her bed, and yell at the doctors and nurses. I was also examined by 17 doctors, 25 nurses, 15 medical students, and the UPenn Quaker Mascot. Ah, life in a teaching hospital.
We finally got up to a room at 4pm, and now we wait for my blood count to come back up. It may take a few more days of uncomfortable IVs, multiple blood draws, and getting weighed at 6am, but this is all part of the important and ongoing process of de-lymphomatization. A good cause with a steep price. I need a vacation.
By the way, today’s white blood count winning guess was .8 or 800 white blood cells per cubic millimeter. Congratulations Sabine Eustache, my doctoral student and colleague at the Drexel University School of Public Health. A BBQ for you in the next few weeks.