Last week my platelet counts had not recovered enough to begin cycle 8, so I was sent home without my chemotherapy. Its nice to have had a break, I think. Today I go back in for a blood draw and we’ll see what the future holds. I should probably have the boys in Angio (sp?) take out the stitches in my portocath, too.
So, I almost don’t even want to write about this, because doing so gives ever more evidence that I am a masochist. But, two weeks ago, I managed to spill boiling water on my legs and feet. It went like this: We keep filtered water on top of the refrigerator. Thinking I am stronger than I am, I tried to bring it down, but dropped it on the cord of the tea kettle that been set to boil. This tipped the kettle off of the counter into the perfect pour position, which it did, on my leg.
I’m healing 2nd degree burns now.
Seriously, I ask, when will I learn patience! When will I stop, and just stop! I do think I’ve learned something this time. Yes, indeed. I’ve learned that I’m really tired of hurting myself. I’ve learned that Randin is a most amazing and caring wound dresser. I’ve learned that Silvadene is pretty gross after its been on a burn for 12 hours.