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On Saturday May 28, I checked out of hospital after my first treatment. It was a great day.
My wife and I had been married exactly one year, and I had made it through the worst. I was very weak, however, and still couldn't eat more than a few bites.
I had a bone marrow biopsy after a week of being
out of hospital. This was to determine whether I was in remission, and what kind of treatment I would require the second time around!
Two Weeks Break
First Night Together
We caught a cab to the hotel and checked in early.
We had planned to have a quiet dinner out somewhere and then to spend the rest of the night holding each other and chatting. This was the first time we were alone and intimate since I had been diagnosed.
In the end we didn't make dinner out for I was still quite weak and I still had an upset stomach. In fact, throughout the treatment the one thing that I struggled with most was my
digestive system. Not only had it completely shut down for two weeks, but I had had loose bowels from the day the chemotherapy side effects kicked in.
We ordered from the hotel menu, and watched one of the
in-house movies. Later we took a warm bath together and climbed into bed. It was good to be able to lie cuddled with my wife, enjoying the warmth of her body. I had missed how she felt close to me...
First Post Treatment Biopsy
I spent the next week recovering. I took slow walks in the park, enjoyed taking my sports car out
for a drive again, and being home with Jacqui. My mother had since flown back to South Africa, and my cousin, Bruce, had arrived from South Africa. (Popular guy, huh...;-)).
Bruce's first task was to
help Jacqui and I find a place to stay. We had moved in with family after I went into hospital because at the time we didn't know whether I would still have a job. It was the Wednesday that we started to look, and
by Thursday we had moved in!
Having delivered on his first task with flying colors, Bruce's next job was to accompany me and Jacqui to my first bone marrow biopsy since the chemotherapy. This was the acid test (no pun
intended).
I was not worried about the biopsy itself. I was, however, apprehensive about the results. I had been so positive. Almost arrogantly proclaiming to people that I would be fine. This test was an important test. I didn't know what I would do if the results were not what I had expected.
It was about a week before I heard from Anne. Bruce and I were driving home from town when my mobile phone rang. I pulled over to take the call...
"Kevin, it's Anne." Her tone of voice didn't give me any clues. "I have your results."
Still no clues. I looked over at Bruce, and he knew what the call was about.
"Anne!" I tried to sound like I hadn't expected the call, but inside my little voice was saying tell me, tell me!!
"How would you like to stop taking the ATRA?" Anne asked.
I could hardly contain myself, I knew it was good.
"You are in remission."
I finished the call with Anne and put down the phone. Looking over at Bruce I could feel the emotion rising. I opened my mouth to tell him the news and all I could do was scream.
Drumming my hands on the wheel I began to laugh. And cry. And laugh. Bruce put his hand on my shoulder and smiled. His eyes watered. Inside, he was effervescing too.
We put a really thumpy CD in the car stereo, and as it was finding the first track I opened my window and looked at Bruce.
"I feel the need," I said. Bruce put on his seat belt and the music began...
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