324 is a massive improvement, but still life-threatening if the Choriocarcinoma continues to lurk in my blood and the tumors continue to grow in my lungs. Dr Karmen has a cunning plan to get me down towards zero by the end of the 9-week period. Apparently, the count won't actually hit zero because we all have a small amount of this hormone in our bodies.
Bottles of P, E, B, Benadryl and Saline were bunched-up on the rack so tightly that they couldn't hang vertically; there were more bottles outside on stand-by. Today would be a 5-hour marathon. I was administered a large syringe of anti-vomit serum into my chest pipe, plus another unknown substance. The anti-vomit serum gave me instantaneous hiccups, and all the nurses started giggling. It seems that it always has this effect on men - never women - and the joke never wears off.
Various anti-fever and anti-whatever tablets were washed down with good old fashioned water. The new element of this PEB cocktail, B, came in a metallic purple bag which reminded me of the wrapper of that curved caramel/nut sweet you get in a tin of Quality Street.
There was general concern that this was going to be a rough session. Having learned from yesterday, they doubled-up on piss bottles. I was given a large chrome hotel lobby bell to ding-ding in the event of an emergency. The nurse felt it necessary to give me a demonstration but, because I had placed it on the far side of the bed from her, she had to stand on her tip-toes and lean all the way over me to ding-ding. I got distracted, and the essential safety feature of the dry-run was lost. I would have to improvise if something went wrong.
The staff were astounded that I remained alert through the whole session, watched TV, and only ding'd my bell once - by accident, whilst re-mounting the bed after one of my countless pisses. Moniek arrived with a gift of fresh orange & pineapple juice. As she led me away, I glanced back and secretly hoped that tomorrow they'll let me graduate to the comfy chairs.