Tag Archives: mental illness

And finally, my second stem cell transplant….

My second autologous stem cell transplant happened at last on Friday 7 November. This procedure has been looming like a pirate ship bobbing up and down on the horizon since my light chains started increasing in January 2013. It was there in the distance but I suppose it was only when Velcade stopped working in around July this year that the pirate ship came closer to shore. It was cancelled in September because my bone marrow biopsy showed the presence of around 10 to 15% abnormal cells so I had one round of VDR Pace which I described in my last post. It was re-scheduled for 12 November, about three weeks after the VDR Pace finished but was brought forward when it was found out that my light chains hadn’t gone down after the VDR Pace but had in fact gone up a bit, much to my disappointment.  The aim was to admit me on 3 November but then as there was no bed available I ended up having the chemotherapy as an outpatient on Thursday 6th November and was treated as an outpatient for the first 5 days. I found the chopping and changing about very frustrating but somehow seemed to remain fairly calm about it, accepting that there wasn’t much I could do that would have any effect on the situation.


Anyway I’ve had “it” now and am day 44 post transplant so long is it since my last post! As I didn’t start my blog until after my first transplant, I want to explain in a bit more hopefully non technical detail about what is involved. To call it a transplant is slightly misleading as really it is a massive dose of a chemotherapy agent called Melphalan which is a form of mustard gas coincidentally. I had this on what is called “Day – 1” as an outpatient. It was administered as an infusion over 20 minutes or so into my PICC line but prior to this and afterwards I was given lots of fluids through a drip as well. I started around 2pm and was finished by 9pm. I was tired but otherwise ok.


The selfie is of me having the Melphalan whilst sucking an ice lolly. It is thought that sucking ice so the mouth is numb whilst you are having the chemo can help avoid reduce or avoid mucositis (a sore ulcerated month caused by chemotherapy). I had about 5 ice lollys and don’t want another ice lolly in my life again! I compared VDR Pace as being equivalent to a Zombie Cocktail in my last post because it is a mixture of a number of different cytotoxic agents. I would say Melphalan is the equivalent  of absinthe, the strongest alcohol that can be legally bought. The dose administered was enough to destroy my bone marrow so it can’t make any blood cells and I would die!

This is where the transplant part comes into play. Stem cells to the rescue! The day after the melphalan, called Day Zero, I was given back my own stem cells via an infusion over about 10 to 15 minutes, no big deal and certainly not an operation as some people understandably think I had. My stem cells were collected in July 2011 prior to my first transplant via my peripheral bloodstream. There was enough for 3 or more transplants collected and the cells have been stored at some ridiculously low temperature.  The newly transplanted cells are there to replace my body’s source of blood cells after the bone marrow and its stem cells are destroyed by the melphalan.  More like a rescue operation assisted by daily injections which promote the growth of white blood cells given around day 7.  Waiting for the new stem cells to engraft is the worst phase of the procedure and I was neutropenic, meaning I had no white blood cells or neutrophils which are the cells that fight infection.


In the photo above kindly taken by the lab technician that brought the stem cells over to the ward, the bag of reddish coloured fluid is my stem cells, they went in over about 10 to 15 mins, no big deal. I felt fine. Afterwards I went to the cinema! I was told to come back for a planned admission 4 days later. Over the weekend I felt reasonably ok with my parents staying to keep an eye on me, but by Tuesday, Day 4, I was feeling quite weak and nauseous and was ready to go into hospital. I then spent the next 9 nights in hospital in an isolation room whilst my neutrophils went to zero and was allowed home on Day 13 when they had risen above 1. I got off fairly lightly as some people are in hospital for 3 to 4 weeks.

The incarceration was unpleasant but bearable and actually the time passed reasonably quickly. I watched a lot of TV, listened to the radio, went online and managed some light reading in between trying to sleep and spending time on the phone! I had a few visitors too. I was lucky enough not to get any infections. Coming out was great but in some ways felt scary because the recovery process was only just beginning and I was on my own now without the medical attention and care that I had in hospital. I didn’t miss the constant stream of staff coming into my room though!

The chart below is a really good description of the different phases to the stem cell transplant for those of you who don’t know. At Day 44 I am now in phase 4 or early convalescence. I have had nothing but a common cold in terms of infection which is still the greatest risk I face and my energy levels are returning with me able to do more and rest less as time goes on and my blood counts gradually return to normal.


What the medics don’t really talk about is the emotional effect of having a stem cell transplant. It is quite common to feel depressed as I did after my first stem cell transplant. After diagnosis, the whole emphasis of the treatment was focused on undergoing a stem cell transplant so everything that happens is a build up to that point. After it happened, it was like now what? I had a sense of anti climax combined with physical weakness. I felt abandoned by my medical team as appointments become less frequent and suffered a loss of confidence which took a while to come back. On top of that I suffered from anxiety about when my myeloma would come back as it does.

But so far after my second transplant I don’t feel depressed, maybe because I know, having experienced relapse,  that this is not the end goal, the holy grail that I was hoping for the first time around and I have less expectations about remission and my light chains being in normal range. I’d like to think that maybe I have learnt the importance of living in the present. I have made a substantial recovery much more quickly than the first time around as well and have already realised that I don’t want to defer doing things until after I have recovered if I feel well enough to do them now. Although I am aware that I need to be careful not to overdo it, avoid crowded places, follow a clean diet, blah,blah blah!

This was going to be a fairly jubilant post about how well I feel so soon after the transplant but it is tempered by the fact that I found out recently that a friend with myeloma died a few months ago whilst having his second stem cell transplant in hospital. He had a wealth of knowledge about myeloma which he was happy to share with me along with a mutual love of tennis.  Another online friend with whom I was in regular contact died shortly after her second stem cell transplant, her body just couldn’t take anymore. She was an artist, photographer and a teacher. A third online friend and fellow blogger who relapsed around the same time as me also died a couple of months ago. They were of a similar age to me and were diagnosed around the same time. This is the sad reality of our situation, I hang out with people for whom death is circling around, not knowing when it will close in, until it does we must try to live with death and to live as well as we can. I am not just talking about people like myself living with a substantial life shortening illness although we have a greater sense of awareness of our own mortality, I am talking about all of us.

So farewell Martin, Eva and Carole.

“While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die”. ~Leonardo Da Vinci


Filed under Cancer, chemotherapy treatment, Health, Life and death, Multiple Myeloma, Myeloma, Relapse, Remission, Stem cell transplant, Uncategorized

The BUPA Great Manchester Run 2012

I am going to do the Manchester 10k run on Sunday 20th May and I hope to raise money for Myeloma UK, the only UK charity specifically dealing with Myeloma.


Myeloma UK informs and supports people affected by myeloma and helps improve treatment and standards of care through research, education, campaigning and raising awareness.”

It has been invaluable for me and my family.  They organise info days,  arrange local support groups and host a discussion forum for patients and carers. They also have a specialist nurse available to talk to about any aspect of your illness or treatment.

I did the run in 2009 to raise money for Mind after a close friend of mine who had been struggling with mental illness for some time took her own life, but then I was relatively fit.  I found the training for it, those runs in the wind and the rain over the winter months after she died a useful tool for dealing with my grief and shock.

3 years on and I am running again (well hardly running, jogging slowly is more accurate at this stage!).   This time around how different life is for me.  My friend’s suicide was the toughest thing I had dealt with so far,  it was certainly the most difficult, saddest and most shocking event up till then in my relatively emotionally stable world.

Now what am I running for and why do such a physically demanding activity  (for someone with myeloma), only 8 or 9 months post stem cell transplant?

I am not entirely sure but it is something to do with wanting to be free, in control of my own body and mind and I know it has so much to do with wanting to be normal, back into the life I had.   Doing the 10k would prove to me and the world that I was ok, not a myeloma sufferer, not a patient or somebody with cancer.  The reality is that I will always be that because a relapse is inevitable as myeloma is currently incurable, I just dont know when that will be.  I got a harsh reminder of how fragile my remission is when I read about the Basil Skyers Myeloma Foundation


The Basil Skyers Myeloma Foundation is run entirely by volunteers and was established in memory of Basil Skyers who died of Multiple Myeloma on August 2, 2010.  The charity aims to provide support of a non medical nature for people living with Multiple Myeloma, and to raise awareness about this condition.

Basil was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma in 2008. After receiving intensive chemotherapy and a stem cell (bone marrow) transplant, Basil was actively supported by his family, his employer (Dixons Retail PLC) and his friends. The support provided to Basil fitted with the rhythms of his changed life by taking account of the physical aspects of his condition, and the social implications of his absence from, and his subsequent return, to work.

Whilst Multiple Myeloma is the second commonest form of blood cancer of which there are 4,000 new diagnoses each year in the UK, often the first family, friends or colleagues hear the words Multiple Myeloma is, as in Basil’s case, at the point of diagnosis.

It is a devastating illness that attacks the blood plasma cells and bones, causes intense pain and major problems with mobility and dexterity.  Due to red blood cells in the bone marrow where blood is produced being crowded out by cancerous Myeloma cells, extreme fatigue, breathlessness and confusion are common features of the condition.  There are a number of treatments for Multiple Myeloma but currently, there is no cure and the average life expectancy from diagnosis is between 3 to 5 years.

The average onset age for Myeloma is 60+ but that picture has begun to change dramatically in recent years, as more and more young people in their 30s and 40s, like Basil, are being diagnosed with this condition.

I have more or less quoted verbatim from the website because it describes so well the nature of the disease and the impact that it has.   I felt scared and depressed reading this, this guy was younger than me when diagnosed, has had the same treatment as me and died two years later. How can life be so unfair?  Rationally I know, as I am always being told, that the disease is so individual that I cannot compare myself to others. It seems that with any cancer there are degrees of unluckiness  (fairly bad,bad,awful,worst etc etc) but I have already survived the bottom range of the survival statistic ie the 12 month to 5 years one that I was given upon diagnosis.

Am I lucky?  I dont feel lucky and I dont feel like some people in remission seem to ( the glad to be alive, jump out of bed with joy brigade) but I do try to find something in each day to enjoy or to appreciate. Today it was seeing the David Shrigley exhibition in London, some of his drawings and cartoons made me laugh out loud, then coming back on the train, seeing the last of the snow on the fields, gazing mindlessly out of the window and tonight going to a friend’s for a roast dinner so just for today, life is good!


Filed under Cancer, Health, Multiple Myeloma, Myeloma