One other day he completely forgot to arrive. It had probably
been a misunderstanding between the doctors, and it gave rise
to panic at home. The drugs would only have the desired effect
if taken in the correct sequence, and at the prescribed times,
we thought. A phone call quickly remedied the problem, although
I felt disappointed that I had been robbed of my day off. I
understood that I needed the injection, but I yearned for a respite
from the perpetual sickness. My tolerance of the CROP was
lessening each time, but I knew that I had to see them through.
To get better, I had to endure months of sickness.
I believe that the timing of injections is fairly crucial. Recently,
I read that if there was too much time between treatments then
previously obtained control over the disease may be lost. Also,
if nine days in between CROPs were given to rest and recovery,
then the drug could be given in maximum dosage, and achieve
better results. That meant that the ideal pattern was one each
two weeks, so long as the patient could tolerate the onslaught.
Without knowing it, I was developing a deep interest in the
biological sciences. I had been given time to reflect on life and
living things, and now wanted to know more. The experience
of illness had heightened my awareness of my body, and its
functioning, and I designed my University course to achieve a
wide perspective of life.
Now there was only the occasional bout of treatment, or the
early morning bone marrow biopsy, to remind me that I was
not yet like everybody else. The social life at University was
fantastic, as people found their groups of friends and adopted
the carefree attitude typical of this age bracket.
