Stem Cell Transplant: Day By Day Update..

Mon 12th Jan: Pretty easy day, they like to break you in gently. Saw Prof for final chat & consent form signing, bloods etc, then over to the main hospital to be admitted. Greased the sweaty palm of the financial dragon in her box with Pru Health's details and settled into my lavender cell on the third floor, room 301.

Have been weighed (heffalump), blood pressured, temped, nebulised and sucked on an inhaler in isolation for an hour (dribbled a lot), chatted to about diets, the evils of plants, unwashed salad and poo-ridden kitten scratches and now… we're about to throw caution to the wind and go to Strada in the village for supper in my pilates trousers. The No-So-Great Escape before I get my neck line at 7.30am tomorrow and the fun really starts….

Thanks for those who've 'booked slots' to come and see me – prize goes to Lou Rutter/Fletcher for being the first visitor, ta very much. Oh and apparently my room won't smell of garlic from the stem cells – its more like sweetcorn apparently, so there you go.

AND A LITTLE REMINDER: Don't bring anything with you – no flowers, food etc allowed – and you're not allowed to touch me (bloody irresistible though I am) so no diving in for a kiss & a hug when you come in… give them to Hawksey instead x

Tues 13: Whipped off to theatre at 7.30am, nice dash of laughing gas and a jab, then back up in my room in no time with a lovely neck line running into my chest and 4 sprouting tubes poking out, just in time for a large cooked breakfast. Well, the diet can go hang for today. Usual rounds of being weighed (still heffalump), blood pressure blah blah all day long. And the added joy of having to measure all drinks going in and out so I don't explode…you can work out how that's done I'm sure.

Afternoon of liquid overloading – bags and bags of saline plus the evil chemo beast Melphalan has now been dripped in – ironically it's sensitive to light, so comes in a bag shrouded with a thick black sack, like the user is about to be beheaded… So – all fine so far really, just weird waiting to feel ill… and having to keep asking myself, do I feel any different? Is the chemo doing its thing? Reminds me of when we had magic mushroomsin Thailand in an omelette and spent the first twenty minutes going 'I think we've been conned, these are just normal mushrooms' before the beatific joy set in, alongside brilliant hallucinations of a yellow and red mustard man turning into a rooster and going 'cock a doodle doo', and Jules apparently sinking out of sight in quicksand…ah, very happy days!

Wed 14:Today's the big Stem Cell Transplant day – they've just wheeled in a small grey robot-shaped container that looks like a cross between R2D2 and a short-arsed Dalek, which is what my stem cells are nestling in, happily frozen. I've got drips a-go-go going into me, but am feeling fine still – quite relieved that am not on the path towards nausea, mouth ulcers or any of the side effects yet. Long may it last!

Celebrated with a thrilling walk up and down my extremely limited horizons – its 63 paces from my door to the end of the corridor and back, so I did 10 'laps', much to the nurses' great amusement. Well, I'd already rearranged the shelf of books in the Visitors room into alphabetical order yesterday, so what else is a bored girl to do??!

5pm: All stem cells safely reinjected, strange smell of acidic sweetcorn in the room, minor moment of needing oxygen mask, throat closing and turning bright red but overall much easier than expected so there's a bonus. Not sick, not too knackered, slightly wondering if this is all a Jonathan Ross joke and its just saline and diluted ketchup in the 6 bags they've just pumped back into me….

Endless amounts of fluid also being dripped in – feel like a bloody camel. But nice visitors today – Sarah T at lunch and Mikey & Margo & JH in the evening, followed by the sailing boys Hawksey, Alex & Ashley (clearly only popping in once they'd demolished large man steaks at the Telegraph Inn). The Ben & Jerry's was lovely!

Thurs 15: Lots of visitors today – cheers all, great to see you, especially Rach making the trek from Manchester, storming effort. But so many people that I got told off by the very lovely nurse Carol, promising me her 'snake eyes' if I don't take it easier in the coming days. 

As they continue to monitor me every 4 hours she advises I hang my arm out of the bed so they can do my blood pressure and obs while I'm asleep tonight… bit creepy, have visions of a dirty old man coming in and stroking my arm (but that's just wishful thinking..) Still feeling fine though which is great - and looking forward to ER at 9, then a bit of kip before the night stalker rustles in….

Fri 16: Slower day today – feeling a bit tired and mouth like a birdcage all day, urrgh. Same meds plus one new injection today, supposed to perk my stem cells into doing something – wild fandango? Visitors doing top job of keeping me perky – nice one Jane, Lucy, Jo C & Gobby - and of course Hawksey. Off to watch American Idol….now all I need's a pizza….

Sat 17: And again, a slow one – mouth progressing from birdcage to inside of hippo's scrotum with great speed – I feel like I have had botox lips as my ever swelling tongue with its cesspit lining grows inside my mouth. Bit like what you find oozing at the back of the fridge on my floor at work… Lots of acid reflux and feeling kind of sicky today, so they brought out the Gaviscon – no nice smoothing firemen with creamy tasting liquid like the TV ad – its pink monkey snot and smells like fermented Pernod.. My sister arrived from Holland tonight and popped up in between her curry starter and main course – lucky cow!

Sun 18: Ooh, Sunday – the thrill of being able to tick the 'roast lunch' box on the food form, even if I don't really fancy it.  Hope its not flaccid beef slices that look grey and translucent, I'm doing that quite well myself! Have just done the corridor stroll to find that there really is someone called 'Mr Coffin' on the patient list for this floor…fantastic, you couldn't make it up.

Mon 19: Absolutely cream crackered today – spent 5 hours contemplating whether it was worth rolling over in bed. I now know the true definition of lethargy – amazing sloth-like state of inability to do diddly while the stem cells strut their funky thang. Day was interspersed perfectly with visitors -  cheers Hatch, Fitz, James, Dav, Lee, JH – your ugly mugs do make such a difference, even if I did then crash for a 3 hour sleep after the last of you went!

Which was just as well, as my temp then went up and at 12.45am I have just had the pleasure of 'being canulated', ie attached to an IV drip by the slighly mad Russian night doc. He didn't seem too impressed when I told him I used to speak Bulgarian (very like Russian but probably in that way that countries-that-border hate each others guts). I now have ulcers on my mouth ulcers – am going for the full oral dot-to-dot look: 'Can you see what it is yet?'

Tues 20 Pretty much more of the same.  Highlight of the day was pear juice, what a find. Low light was being sick in a bowl full of medicine.

Went Neutropenic today, so flowers removed, windows closed, hatches battened down and Hawksey looking resplendent in a plastic apron, gloves and face mask. Temperature reached 103, always the striving over-achiever.

Thanks so much for all the texts and visitors coming in, a real tonic until I get back on the Gin.

Wed 21: Red text for today as my old friend, the full body rash, is back!!  Had more drugs than you can shake a syringe at and have only eaten a quarter of a banana in 3 days yet my weight keeps going up; there is some sick puppy out there jerking my chain. I'm going to set Conker and Mojo on him. All this is par for the course, so will hopefully will wake up tomorrow with things improved.

A big thanks to those visitors who we've had to cancel at short notice – its all a bit unpredictable (and some) so sorry for the arse factor.

All of the medical staff have been amazing today, dealing with all this shit, whilst looking after me at the same time. Vast majority of Parkside staff are totally brilliant, slightly more worrying at 4am when the night cover lurk in and ask 'how much of 'immunozippoboogywoogiewonderlandfuzzygunk' do you normally have'? Hmmm.. 

Thurs 22: Where did yesterday go? Spent nearly all of it asleep, shivering under covers then itching the rash beast for variety. Have been flashing my puffy ankles at the docs just to keep my flirting 'hand' in – I am so sexy (well, compared to the 80 year olds on the rest of the ward….just). Lots of bloody ulcer flob spitting today (gross its true, but there was) and more trots than a trotty thing on non-cantering day. Always a challenge when attached to a drip, and I swear they make the IV stand's plug cable just fat enough to make it hard to get it under the door and fully into the bathroom, but my revenge is they have to measure my output each time, so unlucky!

Also heaved up a huge plug of yellow stuff today that they seemed impressed with, so am trying my best to keep it interesting for them as I groan from my Tutankhamun horizontal position, squeezing poor Tigger when things hurt (and yes, I do mean you, nurse lady, who tried to unblock one of my veins with a fierce flush of saline… OW OW OW).

Fri 23: 'Deeeay 12 in the Big Parkside House…Scotty is in her bed, updating her blog – much earlier than usual which is a good sign (- finally!) Tigger is under the sheets, recovering from being clenched all night. The door and window are still shut, as isolation precautions are still in force. The cardboard kidney dish is getting fuller with bloody flob napkins. At least Scotty's kittens appear to have some memory of 'mummy' voice when she's on H's speakerphone. Today's 'Hospital challenge' is to get 8 hours of blood transfusions into her pooped system, as well as the c.10 bags of other crap that come each day.'

All hoping – none more so than me – that this might be the turnaround point where I go from death warmed up to almost subhumanoid status, en route to being me again. Def think I am emerging from the coma-esque chrysalis of buggeredness – fingers and ulcers crossed! x

Sat 24: Did she speak too soon? (When has Scotty ever opened her mouth too early?!) Was pressing the nurse bell for pain meds most of Fri night and finally the 2nd dose of morphine on top of the IV paracetamol and various throat-numbing sludges nailed the oral ulcer lunar landscape enough for me to be able to drink some liquid. Now I see how people die in deserts! Cracked mouth, blistered tongue the shape of an xmas tree at the edges and swathes of white ulcers all joined up into white snotlike pools throughout mouth, along gums and down throat. Amazing how new stem cells = no immune system = total inability to fight off infection = gob on fire!  

But – the Saturday silver lining was that my Neutrophils score (how they measure degree of 'neutropenic-ness', now I'm sure that's not a word, and is even easier to pronounce as penis) – has gone from unregisterable (apparently there is a score below zero!) to zero for Thurs & Fri to a huge 0.09 today – good sign, immune system returning!  Have to get it up to at least 0.5 before they'll let me out but it's a good step on the ladder towards my home, man, bath, kittens etc…ooh bring it on.

Top effort from all visitors today – my how lovely you all look in your plastic aprons and gloves – and face masks for those with any hint of a cough.. There's been a whole lot of white gloved 'jazz hands, mammie' going down within these lavender walls. And from my side of the bed, I don't even know how many days it's been since I left this room – talk about getting institutionalised! It's now 1am and time for sleep before the 2am blood pressure & temp check… I think they miss me when I'm sleeping given how often they pop in to wake me up…..

Sun 25: Again, a slow start but this one transformed into – awed hush – an almost normal day! Have been able to drink my beloved pear & half fizzy water most of day and still feel fine now its 8pm. Neutrophils up to 0.14. Got so cocky that I did try and put actual food in my mouth (silly billy) – 'twas just a sliver of poached salmon me lud – and discovered that solid stuff is still a step way too far, until the ulcers abate.

Now – saying 'a normal day' is probably as far from the truth as I could possibly get, as today was also 'HAIR TODAY, GONE TOMORROW' day. Gulps, raised eyebrows, skewed lips and quizzical looks abounding at this point -and that was just me. I think I'd already done (most of) the tears and worries bit about losing my hair, so actually today went pretty damn well, considering.

I'd spent much of the last two days hoiking fistfuls of loose hairs onto a bit of newspaper by my bed but it was coming out in spades by today. And not very evenly, so some areas were clearing faster than the fart drop zone in the pub when the boys have been on the Guinness all night, while others were clinging in some vain and naive hope of rescue. Out came scissors, clippers and a large bottle of vodka (no, that's me just hallucinating again) and the job was done.

The upside: Baldiness makes the most of my blue eyes, my cerebral bareness does not appear to have revealed the numbers 666 tattooed anywhere, and I still have eyebrows and eyelashes so far

The downside: I keep jumping out of my skin when raise hand to push (non-existent) hair back off face and there's some weird soft sandpaper stuff up there instead – spooky!

All hair wraps, buffs (I am so trendy, god knows how the damn things tie though) and my Hamster wig have been tried – and I have to say look fine, so that's helped the day go with a bizarre swing. Boundless thanks to my able assistant in all this – I hope several large glasses of wine have helped settle the clipping tremors! Your loving baldy chum, Scotty x

Mon 26th: Two weeks of incarceration complete. First 3 days were a breeze, next 9 pretty grim and now can say that the most recent 2 (Sat & Sun) and hopefully from here on in will be part of the upwards slope towards full recovery.

Discovered that stubbly head feels very odd on a pillowcase, like someone has your real hair and is pulling upwards on it. Also got chilly in night and needed extra blanket as head warmth dissipating merrily - if its cold in my hospital pod then what's it going to be like back in the real world (assuming its still out there and the view from my window isn't the Truman Show backdrop?!). Am now into Frijj milkshakes – ambient dairy crap for teenagers, but very handy for dispersal of OraMorph (the oral morphine rather than a golden plasticine character) – they've also been a top find. And another example of labelling madness 'Choc Fudge Brownie Flavour – warning, doesn't contain real brownies'. No shit, Sherlock!

And today – I am no longer neutropenic! The score shot up from a lowly 0.14 straight to 1.38, bypassing the 0.5 baseline in one graceful bound. What does it mean? Door back open, isolation sign removed, visitors only have to spritz hands with the anti-bacterial stuff and not wear gowns/gloves, I can open the window (woo hoo), stroll the corridor and have ice in my drinks again – HURRAH! 7 days of 'livin', livin' in a cardboard box' are over and I can now roam and cause havoc outside again. Walked the corridor with the physio and was knackered – at least people here are used to the bare head look so no stares as yet – not sure Wimbledon Shopping Centre will be quite so subtle in approach…

Tues 27th: Got grumpy in the night as so full of all the IV fluids that my weight has shot up another 3kg and I am straining at my pyjama seams, plus the silver ring I wear is so embedded in my puffy hand that I can't even turn it, let alone remove it. My face is so swollen that I look like a bloody boiled egg and am apparently on a drip that takes 12 hours to go in, simply because I can't swallow one large potassium tablet – bloody ridiculous!!!

Sat on bed and worked out optimum BMI for my height, arrival weight, weight that I should be having eaten nothing for 10 days - all questioning why I am about 10kg heavier than fairness and logic says I should be! Just wait till I get my hands on the morning doc – there's a sheet of numbers (in stones & lbs for me and kilos for these newfangled people) awaiting them! Have been up from 2am and it's 5am now – is it worth showering early and getting bed remade or trying to kip for an hour before the 6am Obs are done? Decisions, decisions. Or shall I just get a cab home and surprise Hawksey, cuddle the kittens and be back in time for another breakfast I can't eat (highly tempting…..) Suspect I am getting near the end of tether for hospital stay – 16 days, and I'd like to go home now please….

Lovely visitors today again brilliantly managing to bring silver linings to the day – cheers to Hatch & Morts, Jo C, Margo & Mikey and perhaps biggest 'hats off' to Mark Warshaw for conquering his fear of going south of the river and having to take public transport, all in one day!

Oh and bonus message from Sarah Williams in Australia – has signed up to do some huge Kayak Race in aid of the Myeloma Foundation in Oct – bloody good effort, thank you, GO GIRL GO!!!!!!

Wed 28: Weird night – was asleep for 17 mins before woke up, heart pounding, having had a lightning trip through about 10 bad dreams. What is in those bloody drugs? Was a right mindflip – almost rang the Nursey Bell but decided that at 40, I was old enough to deal with my own nightmares.. just.

Rough morning – had huge flaps of dying ulcer tissue on my tongue which I've had to tweezer off – truly vile, lots of blood dripping into the sink and tears on the inside of my glasses as I bent head over the sink dabbing at the bleeding & throbbing yellow and red thing that used to be my tongue. One particularly naughty ulcerous frond is dangling down the back of my throat but still attached and no amount of puking, heaving or coughing seems to be shaking it loose, the little sod. 2 glasses of precious milk have been despatched via my tummy to the sink's wastepipes, as it tickles till you throw up. Oh and its only 9am…

But – hopefully still only 2 days to The Great Escape. And they've FINALLY given me some diuretic tablet which will hopefully enable me to de-puff enough to see my ankle joints again. Now just need to get it past the tongue monster, the ulcer frond and my highly sensitive gag reflex into my body so it can de-bloat me back into a human rather than an inflated blubberwhale. Harpoon anyone?!

9pm: Oh dear – been sick yet again, trying to get the bloody diuretic down me – they're huge white fizzy tablets made of salt – and funnily enough, taste terrible, so the old gag reflex has been giving it large. I can't believe the one tablet that I actually want to take that can genuinely deliver 'real instant weight (water) loss', is the one I can't get in me! Having sucked the life out of a bag of stale Hula Hoops to try and dislodge the nasty ulcer strand dangling in my throat (still hanging around like an unwanted frond), not only did I not manage the diuretic but didn't manage to nobble the frond despite some full scale retching, disappointed!

Thurs 29: Feeling LOADS better – and as a result, for the first time really think I'm ready to go home. OK, not to go run a marathon, but I may as well lie on my own sofa with kittens than on this bloody hospital bed. It's got to the point where the nurses ask 'do you want some morphine/anti-nausea stuff/throat-easing gunk' etc and I tell them what I'd like (nothing ta) – so I'm past being a medical emergency and am now just a baldy, bruised, bobbling mass that wants to GO HOME. Hello – Day 18 – patience running out!!!!

Must be better – have tried to place my first Amazon order, but for some reason it won't go through (am sure Hawksey has put a cunning 30 second limit on any attempted shopping to prevent mass plastic abuse).

Even the nurses keep saying I look so much better – still amazes me how patient, funny, hard-working, helpful, informative, piss-taking etc they are, a great mix of skills and really good to have had so much consistency of care since I've been in. As people are now rotating onto their days off you have these funny 'goodbye' conversations: 'its been lovely meeting you but hope we don't see you again, in the nicest possible way' kind of thing..

10am: So am now awaiting today's blood results and Prof's daily visit and the magic words 'you can go home' very very hopefully…. 

11am: Hmm – that didn't go so well – Prof not pleased I am having such difficulty getting the crucial potassium tabs and various others into my system - actually asked me ''do you want to die? are you trying to commit suicide?' and said that potassium is critical to keep the heart going. So how was I supposed to know that? And even knowing it, it doesn't change the fact that I keep puking every time I try and get the horror tabs into me, I'm not playing hard to get! They're hugely bitter and are like upending a salt cellar into your mouth, not surprisingly the mouth goes – AAARGGGH in response. He made me cry, then came back in and we did hugs, ooh its a rollercoaster in here.

Upside – managed to blag a 3 hour trip HOME!!!!!! Quite weird getting out, everything looks bigger and moves faster (only the first of these applies to me!) Lovely to see kittens, grown loads, even fur a different texture and they were not too sure who the bald beast with mummy's voice was coming through the door, very curiously balancing on bath edge trying to work out who/what I might be. Great kitty cuddles in bed though, as memories were rekindled – then all too soon, back to my purple cell for the night.

Fri 30: So – what will the potassium number be today? All fingers crossed its above 3.0 – had an avocado and a banana to try and boost it sans pills, still wondering how to get the pinto beans they suggested as also being high in potassium into me (am more used to a pinto beer than a pinto bean…)

11am: Potassium score is – hurrah – 3.7 – now just need to see if that's enough to convince Prof that I'm well enough to head for home. Rest of blood looking okay – platelets a bit on the lacking side but not generating the capital letters and exclamation mark on the blood test scoresheet that really bad numbers give rise to, so all looking fairly positive… Have been given the 'going home' instructions and chat – all still fairly serious stuff ('don't go to bed without doing your temperature or you might die of sepsis overnight' – oh, ok then….!) And even worse – no going out for dinner for up to three months – now that's going to be a challenge!

4pm: FREEDOM, CRY FREEDOM!!!! Prof happy for me to head for home, at last 19 days of hospital incarceration are over and tonight I get to sleep in my own bed again. It's amazing how the small but important things in life can bring a huge lump to your throat… I'm packing like a lethargic demon and by 6pm will be installed back chez moi, avec le Hawksey and les Deux Chats. HURRAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!