A smaller bucket of poison.

My blood test on Monday revealed a CPK level of 65, well within the normal range. While on the face of it this is certainly good news, it unfortunately green lights the chemo factory to begin preparing another bucket of poison with my name on it. I was just getting used to feeling great again. Oh well, all good things must come to an end . . .

After the recent two-night hospitalization to address the stratospheric CPK level, I embraced the delusion that this might mean a decrease in the frequency of chemo infusions. No such luck. It seems that the Purveyors of Fine Poison want me to continue to upend my life every three weeks, albeit with a dosage reduced by 20% from the maximum allowable dosage. I’d like to think that there exists some solid medical rationale for this, but I suspect that maintaining the frequency of service has more to do with revenue streams than anything else. So back to LA tomorrow . . .

It’s tough to argue with progress.