An hour ago I was excited to come on here and write about how much better my boyfriend was doing. He was given solids for breakfast, scrambled eggs and toast. He was allowed to walk around for a little bit, from the window to his hospital room wall and then up and down a flight of stairs.
He was feeling a little better. Perhaps he could come home soon.
That was an hour ago.
An hour ago, a doctor arrived and told us that a nurse was concerned because my boyfriend’s urine was very red. They worried he was bleeding again. They needed to run some more tests.
An hour ago his lab work came back and his platelets were dangerously low, 2k versus the normal 150k count. Something in his blood is attacking his red blood cells and his platelets.
The standing theory is that he’s having negative side effects to his immunotherapy treatments and that’s cause of his liver injuries. The treatments that are supposed to keep his cancer in check are making him worse.
There are so many scenarios running through my head about all the things that could go wrong while I’m stuck in this house and unable to even touch him. Every emotion feels so fleeting and fragile right now. And the small bits of happiness that we manage to create for each other don’t seem to last very long.
They tell us to try and keep our spirits up. They can all go kick rocks.