hot beds and cold feet

I came down with a little cold just after coming back from the hospital last Wednesday, and by Sunday, I had developed a nearly-constant fever. A real problem in people like me whose white blood cell counts are low is that it is very difficult to tell whether fevers are due to a benign viral infection that will pass on its own, or due to a bacterial infection that could quickly get out of control. I had been told to call in if I spiked above 100.5, and after some stalling, I let myself be cajoled into heading back to the hospital Sunday night. The trip through the Emergency Department went smoothly, considering, and I was in my own room three hours later. The pleasure of having a single room was a little dampened by the knowledge that only the people who really need them get them.

I am getting really tired of hospitals. They aren’t nearly as interesting when wearing a grey face as they are wearing a white coat. A hospital is a terrible place to be when you are feeling bad. From Sunday night until Wednesday morning I was moved between four different rooms, and got poked with a needle at least eight times (that I can remember). Once the fever broke, became more of an exercise in patience and acceptance than anything else. I had to stay until I hadn’t had a fever for more than 24 hours, and my white blood cell count rose back to a safe level. In the meantime, they cultured my blood and urine looking for bacteria, and dripped me full of antibiotics just in case. Luckily, my white count bounced back fast, my fevers stopped on their own, and they didn’t find any evidence of infection, so the projected five day stay only ended up being around three.

I had known that it was a possibility that I would develop just such a “neutropenic fever”, but didn’t really think that it would happen, because I have gotten away with being immunocompromised before without any real problem. It was a disappointment to “lose” these days of freedom, but better safe than sorry at this point.

Back at home, I have new worries. The side effects of yet another dose of cisplatin are becoming apparent. For a few weeks now, my feet have been cold/tingling/numb/burning, as if they have been splashed through freezing puddles for hours. Instead of thawing, though, day by day they seem to become a little more like damp cobblestones and a little less like feet. My ears have started to scream again, and for the first time in a long time, I had to plug my ears when the dog barked to keep from wincing in pain. Most terrifying, though, is that my hands feel slow. Typing is awkward. Writing is sloppy. I remind myself that I regained much if not all of the hearing loss I experienced after the first cisplatin regimen, and that I am not getting any more of that stuff, no matter what happens (carboplatin apparently has fewer of these kind of side effects). Following a good review paper I found, I started taking vitamin E, alpha-lipoic acid, and acetyl carnitine, and am looking into glutathione, glutamine, and N-acetylcisteine. Time to get back to the acupuncturist, too.

In the meantime, I am very happy to be home, and no longer immunocompromised. I still have a cold, and am still feeling pretty beat down, but I am getting over it, and looking forward to enjoying the next ten days as much as I can.