So, I am standing in my kitchen, baking brownies with very expensive chocolate and staring at the little blue case that contains the needles which I will stick in to my thighs for the next five to seven days. What does the baking part have to do with anything? Well, I bake when...um, I was going to say when I get stressed or worried..which is pretty much always anymore so....I just bake. I bake everything. Cookies. CUPCAKES. Sometimes brownies. That was the sugar fix du jour. OH, and it is supremely hilarious that my hormone injection vials are sitting in my fridge next to the butter I'm using to bake these brownies.
What has me so freaked? Besides everything, I just got a phone call from my oncologist (about ten minutes after returning from the uncomfortable-fest fertility clinic) who proceeded to tell me that, after speaking with Dr. K at MDA, they have determined that I am at high risk for 'blast crisis'. This essentially means that I could go from 0 (well, technically, 3.8) to full-blown 200s white count leukemia at any time now that I am off of Tasigna for the fertility treatment. Greeeaaattt. I will need to return for blood counts weekly for the entire time that I am off of the drug (nothing new here) and if those little white cells start to creep up in numbers at all, we're terminating the whole IVF retrieval process and I'm starting the chemo again. Bye-bye embryos. You know what I have to say to that. FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK I'MSCARED FUCK.
So, in the meantime I'm gonna eat some brownies and grow some eggs. Wish us luck. Please:)