Combined Harvest-er

Two days done and enough new stem cells successfully in the bag. If only it had actually felt quite that simple…

Am back at home feeling pretty battered by the last 6 days. Have had 2 injections of growth hormone (for the stem cells, not me) for each of the past 5 days, mostly jammed in by Hawksey but including a fine effort from Fitz in Hatch's newly extended living room, with Rich averting his eyes in a slightly horrifed but gentlemanly fashion. Makes you ache weirdly as your marrow actually fills with extra cells… which apparently would make you set like stone if they werent removed. A bit like I imagine labour to feel on a very minor scale – hats off to you girls that have had the real thing!

In terms of targets, I already had 1.4million cells on ice from the last harvest back in Jan, but needed to 'bank' ideally another 2.6 million this week to total up to a joyous 4 million - the minimum to be enough for 2 future transplants.

So, went into the London Clinic on Mon and 'harvested' 1.4million stem cells on day one. With Clare Greenwood as excellent company, managing to plan out the best way round Sri Lanka and do her research analysis all in one go.  A jolly good start as my immune system is still pretty shaky, as evidenced by the Anthony Nolan donors in the 2 beds next to me, trumping my supposedly good efforts with a 6 million and 12 million cell collection respectively, just in 1 day.

Swines – but it's so good that people actually do donate. They always look horrifed when they ask if I'm also in doing the same as them and I have to find a nice way to say, 'no, actually I'm a patient'.. as their eyes pop out that someone who looks just like them is in a rather different boat… I find myself feeling I should thank them for bothering to donate, even though I have no idea who their recipient will be, it seems 'seemly' somehow, maybe an expected part of 'cancer etiquette' to be grateful even if its not me on the receiving end..Funny old world.

Anyway – tottered out after day 1 to have 2 much-needed cups of tea with the lovely Mark Warshaw – my 'north London' chum. And a jolly good pear tatin & natter, thanks Mark! We were joined by Hawksey, full of bravado having cycled to Marylebone from home as part of his fitness campaign, only to lose his puff somewhat as, checking his i-phone while still cycling to see where he needed to head, managed to clip a Red Bull Formula One car surrounded by paparazzi, wating for some celeb arrival. Oopsy-doo-dah, caught on camera.. cycling rapidly away!

Had to then 'check in' to the in-patient ward for an overnight stay… which was a bloody shambles. No idea why I was there (needed one more injection – apparently £6,000 per shot!!!!) so suggested that I might just like to 'be observed overnight'. Now call me an old traditionalist, but being watched sleeping if there's no reason, is what's known as CREEPY.. so we eventually sorted the injection and I was in for the night.

And it was horrid. Grotty room, right by nurses' station, noisy, phones ringing, lights, disabled furniture just to make you feel even more debilitated… had to beg to be moved (well, threatened to go home which clinched the sudden revealing of a spare room) – and then got myself in a right paddy. Felt like had suddenly been sucked from 'okay daytime stuff, interspersed with friends' to 'back in the nightmare' that was Sept to Jan. Hospitals, the smell of illness and death, lack of control, fear, pain, inability to sleep, mind racing, endless 'what ifs', and even the old 'why me' chestnut was back in spades, bouncing round my brain. When you add in the hassle of being observed (yes, here I am still, do my blood pressure, temperature and generally wake me up) at 10.30, 11.30, 12.30, 2am and 6am, its enough to tip you over the edge a bit. So I did cop a strop when having asked about filling in a breakfast form at 11pm, again at 6am and then at 8am, I still had nothing to eat before going on the machine again from 9am-2pm… till managed to finally score a spare tray, probably robbed from some old person less able to shout than me. And they call this private health care…  

Anyway – perked up back in the day centre and was lead to believe that this magic new injection – different stuff, and very new hence the shocking price tag – might yield up to 20 million cells – yes, twenty – which would see me in transplants till the cows come home. So – was a bit flat when the nurse came back with just 2 million racked up. Still, total scores on the doors were 3.4 million of this new better quality stuff and still the old 1.4 million from Jan (worse quality as pre stem cell transplant). Enough for 2 transplants, so target achieved, even if not glowingly. And yes, Janine did tell me off for being competitive even about the number of stem cells I can produce! Big cheers to you too for giving up a day when the office was breathing down your neck as ever, to turn the pages of my paper and feed me ham and mustard sarnies, with the odd M&S grape.

So, should have left, head held high with enough cells to make do, but somehow have managed to duff my back in… while lying on the bloody bed for 5 hours! Now how does that happen?… And feel a bit emotionally beaten too… its quite hard having to shift from home world to work to hospital, and back again. Most of the time I've been quite good at cracking this, but this one was a bit of a poo puff in my sails, reminding me that life ain't totally rosy for me, so am licking wounds a bit on sofa, well not literally, while Conker tries to steal the lovely BBQ dinner that very lovely boy H has just cooked for us. Wee furry robber….!

Love to all – Scotty, with 17 new puncture marks from the last 6 days to add to my tally x