It’s been an interesting and slightly disturbing couple of days. What started as a hospital appointment for a CT scan to plan some radiation on what we thought was ‘something’ on my lower back that needed a zap turned into an overnight stay in the hospital and the prospect of some very complicated treatment in the worst-case scenario.

A month or so ago, I developed a very sore spot in my spine near my pelvis, where I had a collapsed vertebra about four years ago. Same kind of pain and symptoms. The cancer team at the hospital thought it was worth checking. However, when I went in, they were — rightly — much more interested in the fact that I was very short of breath and gasping like an old smoker when I tried to talk or walk. I wasn’t too worried because I’ve been like this before — mostly when I reach the top of the stairs in our house. But doctors have to be careful, so I got admitted.

Then, we had to start on the tricky course of communicating with the family (i.e. our children) without alarming them too much. Our son and daughter-in-law had only just left the country on Tuesday for their big overseas working adventure in London, and we didn’t want them to feel they needed to rush back because the old man was sick. The real issue was the possibility of a pulmonary embolism, which, with my low blood counts as a result of myeloma, would be a serious treatment issue — no simple options for the doctors like anticoagulants.

So, it was a real relief to find that there were no clots there. Phew. All I needed was a transfusion and to take it easy when I got home.

However, like all of these sorts of incidents, it’s a warning to take changes in my health seriously. The problem is, I don’t want to be that annoying patient who bothers the doctors with something that isn’t anything to worry about. I’ve had a couple of things that were marginal, so I’ve got form for mentioning things that might not need treatment. It’s a tricky balance. It’s also a reminder not to become overconfident that living longer than I was told I could expect to at the end of last year means I’m going to live forever. I’m not, and I need to remember that. Fortunately, one of my Buddhist meditations focuses exactly on that, so I don’t get a chance to forget it!

The good thing, however, is that it seems I am still on track for being able to go on to a newly funded drug, pomalidomide, which becomes available next week. I have an appointment with my haematologist on Wednesday, which I hope will get me started on it.