Mother of God (TIDBI).  Anybody still listening to my saga of trying to get knee replacement surgery?  I sure wish I could be done with rather than living this tale of epic fucked-upped-ness.

Last time we saw our heroine (that would be me), her platelets had tumbled to 37.  Well below the 70 that the doctors (no the anesthesiologist) was requiring for surgery.

However, (cue the trumpets) doo-too-doo – this week my platelets are up to 88!  Whoo-hoo.

Of course, after 3 cancelations and the big tumble in my numbers, I was not even scheduled for surgery this week. 

But I’m not worried (what, me worry) because clearly the higher dose of eltrombopag (generic for Promecta) has finally kicked in and is doing its thing.  Let’s get this thing scheduled and done. 

So here comes the big stinking steaming cow flop dropped directly in my path to surgery. 

Eltrombopag is a “specialty” drug and you have to get it from a “specialty” pharmacy.  In other words, nobody local carries this stuff – not even the hospitals.  And because I’ve been taking a pill and a half for the last couple of weeks, I am almost out of pills.  As in I have two fucking pills left.  But no worries, the specialty pharmacy has assured me I will receive more pills this Friday. 

Now my hematologist knows I’m taking the higher dose (75 mg) and therefore going through my pills (50 mg each) quicker than usual.  And their response?  Crickets.  Not a god damn thing.  Okay, but the pills are almost here.

.  I meet with my hematologist to (finally) go over my bone marrow test (which is completely normal!!! So I have one little claim of normality in my fat old lady body) – and we also discuss the higher dose of eltrombopag.  She says she is going to keep me on the higher dose for the foreseeable future.  And while I’m sitting there, she puts in the order with the specialty pharmacy. 

This is Monday.

Thursday morning, voice mail message on my phone.  It’s the specialty pharmacy. 

Fuck.  This is never good.  And it isn’t.

When my doctor put in the new prescription, the specialty pharmacy STOPPED my order because they were sending 50 mg pills.  Now they are calling to tell me that rather than my pills arriving on Friday, I won’t get them until next Tuesday at the earliest.  Why between Monday and Thursday, they couldn’t switch out 30 pills is and will remain one of the great mysteries of our time. 

If I take 50 mg a day instead of the 75 mg, I will run out of pills on Saturday.  If I take 75 mg, I’m out of pills on Friday.

Do you know what happens when you stop taking this medication? 

It’s not good. Your platelets do the high dive straight for the bottom. 

I spoke with the pharmacist and let him know I would be out of pills; and all he had to say was when you get the pills just take them as prescribed, don’t double up.  He had fuck-all to say about what was going to happen with no pills for 3-4 days or if I should take 50 mg for 2 days or 75 mg for 1 day.  Thanks a butt load for a big fat no fucking help at all, sir.

I have a call in to my hematologist and hope somebody gets back to me – because they are closed on Friday (and of course, this is a holiday weekend – so they are also closed on Monday). 

I still don’t have the knee surgery scheduled, and I don’t have a clue what I should do about that – try to get on schedule for next week and hope my platelets take their time before doing the big nose dive; or tell them we have to wait until my platelets settle down again – hopefully at a level that allows the surgery – because, you know, there are no guarantees with this condition.

I can’t believe how well and truly fucked I am right now.  And I’m not enjoying it one bit.

BOHICA just entered my vocabulary.