The days are passing by, and I continue to do well with Revlimid/Dexamethasone as my new treatment. Of course I haven’t had any blood work done since I started, so I don’t know yet if the treatment is actually effective. I am tolerating it much better than Velcade. My only side effect is edema, which is probably from the steroids. If you have a “Listerine” mentality that if it tastes bad, then it must work, my lack of significant side effects doesn’t bode well. However, I am hopeful, ever hopeful, that the Revlimid is chomping away on those bad plasma cells and reducing my lambda light chain in a big way. We shall see.
Although AL amyloidosis seems like having an alien at large in my bone marrow, the truth is that it is my very own plasma cells that are going to kill me if I don’t kill them first. How strange it is to think of cells growing wild in your bones, even though you feel pretty normal. Perhaps that is the problem with amyloidosis; you feel relatively well for a long time, until it has ruined your heart or your kidneys. I still wonder how long I would have gone undiagnosed had I not had my annual checkup in January? I still feel the same as I did then: a little fatigued, ankles a bit swollen, red spots around my eyelids every now and then. Who suspects a life-threatening disease when they have a little fatigue? Who expects to need a stem cell transplant for swollen ankles? It is simply too weird, too bizarre, to jump from a subtle symptom to drastic life-saving measures.
And so I take my pills each day, amazed that I don’t have to feel worse to get better. (At least I’m hoping that is true.) Modern medicine is truly awe inspiring. I once told my doctor that I was glad he had to figure out everything instead of me, because it sure is a complicated mess. Drug interactions, genetic abnormalities, past medical issues, the list of complications goes on and on. How they figure it all out is beyond me, but I’m surely thankful that they can.
