Bit of a rollercoaster ride with my medicine. My liver is showing signs of grumbling and to be on the safe side, the Doctor has listened to its complaints and I have gone from 60mg, to 80mg to 60 mg to 40 mg to 60mg to 80 mg and am now back to 60mg again! I NEARLY made it to the recommended dosage of 100mg, but alas it was not to be - we have to listen to oliver and bow to his demands. After all it's probably not him being fussy, it's probably all those years of alcohol-infused neglect that have led him to be sensitive.
There's no-one to blame if you get CML, it's not something I brought on myself through smoking or sitting in the sun too long. I was just randomly picked on by a very small but powerful force of nature that has changed my body chemistry, starting with one single stem cell who decided to have a party in my body and needed some more friends.
I think my liver has decided that it's just one party too many and he wants a nice quiet life, he just wants to sit in front of the telly thank you very much and the only action he wants to see will involve Bruce Willis in a dirty vest or Angelina Jolie in a much smaller tighter one (I mean vest in the English sense, not the American, ie. small piece of underwear worn on the top half of your body, also called 'wifebeater')
So he's sitting on the couch with a cup of cocoa in his hand and grumbling about the tiniest increase in dosage and for now we must listen to him. But I'm staying hopeful that he'll fall asleep soon, let his guard down and get comfy; relax into his new feeling of protection and nod off. Then we can sneak up the meds slowly - he won't even notice when he wakes up at five in the morning with a crick in his neck and dribble down his chin and a repeat of Dukes of Hazard on for the fifth time! If not I could try bribery, but something tells me he's not going to accept a few beers as payoff.