Guys, the HCG went down by 62%!

Sixty.  Two.  Percent.

Given that the hospital are mostly looking for a 15% drop at this stage, and would consider that to be a decent result, I think I just might be the happiest woman in the UK right now. I’m definitely one of the most relieved, because… well, you’ve read my last few posts on this (er, unless you’re the person who keeps commenting asking me to measure my Ikea dressing table, obviously, in which case you probably didn’t…): you know how off-the-scale-anxious I’ve been about this, don’t you?

Anyway. I’m not going to say I’m out of the woods quite yet, because I said that before, and we all know how THAT ended up, don’t we? I will, however, say, that I’m currently feeling better than I have in weeks, and that things are looking very, very positive – much more so than I had even dared hope.

gingerbread man in coffee
I still probably have a long road ahead of me before I can consider this whole thing truly over: I have another blood draw scheduled for Saturday morning, and it’s still possible that the levels could rise or plateau again, so it could still be a few weeks before I’m officially discharged. The current levels of HGC in my system, however, are now lower they were when I was first tested, four weeks ago, and are low enough that it would basically be something of a medical miracle if they were to somehow manage to rise to a level that would cause any concern.

Although my health anxiety likes to try to convince me otherwise, I know I am NOT in fact a medical miracle, so while I’m not counting my chickens (I mean, where would I even GET chickens to count at this time on a Tuesday?), it’s looking good. I’m feeling good. And I know there will likely be some tough times ahead when I start to really process what’s happened, and address the anxiety issue, but for now I’m just trying to enjoy the return to sanity I’ve been experiencing since we got the results back this morning, and to focus on the positives, of which there are many.

On that subject, today was actually easier than expected. Not only did the blood draw go without a hitch (“Yes,” said Terry, as the nurse took out her kit, “The butterfly needles are my preference, too: I always find them more reliable…” “Er, my husband did two years of dialysis,” I  felt I had to point out, “That’s how he knows this stuff. He’s not a nurse. Or, you know, a junkie…”), they got the results back to us within a couple  of hours, during which I managed to remain almost as calm as, well, a normal person would be. I even managed to drink a cup of coffee, although I will admit to being a little bit perturbed when Terry ate the gingerbread man shown in the photo. I mean, he had a FACE, people! A face!

Anyway. I just wanted to update those of you who’ve been kind enough to show an interest in this whole saga (Again, if you’re just here for the dimensions of the Ikea dressing table, THEY HAVE THAT INFORMATION ON THEIR OWN WEBSITE. Seriously, CONTACT IKEA: I’m sure they’ll be more accurate than I would be, anyway!). I can’t promise an instant return to normal content (and if you’ve emailed me, please don’t be offended if it takes me a while to get back to you: I have read and appreciated every single message so, SO much, but my inbox is currently looking almost as intimidating as the hospital itself right now…), but then again, I’ve just this second remembered that unopened ASOS parcel waiting downstairs for me, so you never really know, do you?

Thanks again to everyone who’s commented/emailed/messaged/just spared me a kind thought over the last few days: if this whole, horrendous experience has taught me anything, it’s that there are some amazing people out there, and if that’s not a good note to end on, I don’t know what is.

51 Comments
  1. So relieved Amber to hear that things are going the right way at last! My son and his wife have been going through a similar situation on two occasions over the last year too, so I really feel for you and Terry.
    Let’s look forward to a much happier and less stressful year ahead and I hope this is just the start of a more positive road for you both xx

  2. What are the dimensions… JUST KIDDING…. I’ve been thinking of you so much. Feel kind of stalkerish leaving three comments in the past few weeks when I normally never comment on anything (your blog included) but I just want you to know we’re out here thinking of you, checking up on you, and gunning for you. Like I said in other comments, sigh, I don’t have health anxiety, but sky-high generalized anxiety and I found this book DARE that actually helped a little today. So we’ll see. Good luck to you Amber and I know you’ll get the joyful holidays you deserve and can strategize next steps, if you feel like that, in the new year.

  3. So glad to read this latest update! As a long time reader but rarely a commenter, I have read each post, hoping for the very best for you.

  4. So glad to hear the results are looking good and that you’re feeling more positive. I’ve been reading all your posts lately and hoping for the best so it’s great to hear that things are looking up!

  5. I am *so* pleased things are looking up for you and you’re feeling somewhat better. Like I said previously if you ever want to talk about techniques for handling anxiety I’m more than happy to help, if I can. Lots of love xxx

  6. This is such a positive result and I along with everyone else hope it continues to go well for you and Terry.
    Take care and all the best.

  7. I know that this isn’t the end of the road (especially for someone with HA – I’m still not 100% sure about that mole a doctor told me was fine seven years ago; god isn’t HA just HILARIOUS) but this is real, hard numbers and I am so, so hoping things continue in the right direction. The terrible days are bad enough; enjoy the good ones. Thinking of you x

  8. I’m so glad to hear this! I’ve been following your posts and crossing all my fingers that you’d be getting some good news soon, so yay! Hope it all continues to go well and you’re feeling as well as you can be as soon as possible 🙂
    xx

  9. Amazing news… hope next lot of blood test continue to show a decrease, and that you are discharged soon Amber! Sending my usual love and good vibes! xxx

  10. Brilliant news Amber! You may even find you come through this stronger. Just imagine, a routine doc’s visit is a piece of p*ss compared to what you’ve been through. Thinking of you. Stay strong. And a big hug to Terry and your parents too.

  11. I’d taken a break from reading most blogs over the last six months, but I wandered back to yours last week and got caught up on recent events. Amber, I’m so sorry you and Terry have gone through this. Thank goodness the medical part of your saga appears to be winding down. Here’s to a much improved 2017. After the surprise election of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named over here in the US, one popular ornament this holiday season has been a burning dumpster (skip) with the year 2016 written on it. I haven’t bought it because the last thing I want to do is revisit this year’s awfulness each time I put up my Christmas tree, but I’m sure you can appreciate the sentiment.

  12. Tip from a fellow needle phobe with difficult veins: put your hands under hot water to bring them to the surface. I learns this after a week in the hospital and SEVERAL failed hand attempts to draw blood. Also, relax. Easier said than done, I know, but freaking out will it more painful. Perhaps try a guided meditation with breathing exercises? Any port in a storm eh?

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