Well, I wasn't an escapee for long. After a few days at home I was running hot but feeling cold, a sure sign that something wasn't right. We called it in and I was readmitted on Jan 27th.
The treasured PICC line was pulled in case it was infected (it wasn't). That was a real downer, as it meant that every blood sample required (at least twice a day) needed at least one new hole in the arm. Anything IV (twice a day minimum) needed a cannula, and anyone drawing the short straw (pun intended) for putting one into me knows that it takes at least two attempts to get one in, and that they stay patent for less than 24 hours, so that meant many more holes in the arms. The request for a new PICC was rejected on Feb 1st, it was deemed "non-urgent" and I had to wait until Feb 5th for a new line. By then, my count of failed holes in the arms and hands was well over 30, that count not including the successful attempts, and productive sites were becoming scarce. "Non-urgent" my arse!
The new PICC made a world of difference. Not a single unnecessary puncture since its insertion.
But they said that I was infected. With what, nobody knew. Blood cultures were drawing blanks. And due to the ghost infection, I was put into isolation. Two weeks in The Cooler... just what a prowler like me needs to be tipped over the edge towards cabin-fever... a flaky internet connection, a dodgy mobile signal, a dust-filled air-con system with both min and max temperatures set to 18C running loudly 24/7 and doing nothing else except creating a constant cold draught...
They threw the allowable gamut of drugs at the ghost, several combinations of antibiotic/antifungal/antiviral pills and potions, and none of them made any headway. Even the later revelation that I had a "Common Cold" due to a rhinovirus, for which even the most dim-witted know there is no cure, didn't stop them trying new drug combinations which brought their own complications such as the 30% coverage allergic rash that developed when they plied me with Co-trimoxazole. In the end I had to get harsh, requesting that they stop trying to fix the unfixable, and deal with the important stuff instead.
After two weeks of iso I was allowed home again, in an operation cunningly contrived to allow me to not miss any of last weekend's Six Nations matches. I still have a "Common Cold" but that's a minor issue - it's endemic - who doesn't carry the rhinovirus? After all the chopping and changing I have a familiar cocktail of drugs here - Aciclovir, Fluconazole and Levofloxacin - the same as almost everyone else in the same boat, and pretty much the same as I was on three years ago. Progress, eh?
Anyway, I'm still at home and it looks like I'm slowly recovering from FLAG-IDA Cycle 1. It's been a long rough road but blood counts are improving slowly. Another bone marrow sample was taken yesterday. Next Wednesday's check-up aside, the future is anyone's guess. Apart from the looming spectre of Cycle 2, that is.
On reflection, I think I might have hit upon a reason for the two weeks of inconvenient detention and experimentation... my lead consultant is from the Green Isle and an avid supporter of the Irish rugby team, as is one of his excellent juniors. After the unpredicted thrashing by the England team during the first match of the tournament, my flagrant brandishing of my St. George Cross fleece blanket may have been too much for them to bear without retribution 🙁
