I was positive that this would be the day that I'd be admitted to Hotel Hope, but it didn't happen. My white blood cells and platelets have gone down, not up, since Tuesday. I'll have the weekend to visualize my bone marrow pumping out hundreds of thousands of tiny plates and miniature Caspers before trying again on Monday.
Many of you have wondered why I don't receive a platelet transfusion. I get the yellow stuff when my platelets fall to a dangerously low level to bring them up to safe levels so that I don't bleed to death from a minor cut or hemorrhage. But the transfusion can't raise the counts to the levels necessary to proceed with the next round of chemo.
I hate this. I feel as though I've lost control, but the truth of the matter is that I never had control to begin with.
My consolation prize is that we're meeting friends for dinner at a Los Feliz sushi bar. (Don't worry - I'll stick to non-raw fish dishes, like monk fish liver with ponzu sauce, barbecued eel and grated mountain potato.)
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