The 22nd of December.
WELL as if things weren’t bad enough, as soon as I woke up this morning, I knew that the GvHD on my toes was flaring up. Mommy and Christine had gone to a walk-in centre because Christine’s throat was all gross and infected. They came back with no antibiotics, I showed them my toes and Mommy started phoning people. First we tried the haematology pharmacist, who suggested we call the emergency oncology nurse number. I did and spoke to a nurse, who said she’d talk to the doctor and ring me back.
So I have been mostly sitting around, waiting for a phone call. Eventually I had one from Sandeep who is excellent, and she immediately wrote up a prescription for steroid cream which Daddy is picking up after work.
Christine helped me wrap my last present for Daddy (too big for me to do alone), and I have watched How To Train Your Dragon.
I could really do without my skin going insane right now. Systemic steroids are not an option.
The 23rd of December.
We are all broken except Mommy. Me with my GvHD, fat arm and cough-causing lung shadow, Christine with her infected throat, and now it seems Daddy has a temperature. Going to be a great Christmas here!
Mommy and Christine have spent the day baking all of the things. Finally we have mince pies (not that I’ll be eating them, bleugh), Nigel Slater’s festive pie, various cakes, and I have iced and decorated the Christmas cake with lots of snowmen.
I have watched Sister Act 2 and Arthur Christmas, put my presents under the tree and told off the kittens because one of them has chewed through one of the wires to a speaker. Argh. Thankfully it is fixable (or so I’m told).
Antibiotics make me hungry all the time. Good thing it’s Christmas and there is food covering literally every surface.
Even though we’re poorly, we must remember how lucky we are.