Let's Not Do Anything Rash...

Before I get going with tonight's tale, I want to offer an apology to one of my friends of longest tenure, Mike F.   Mike is one of the most fervent Saints fans I know.  He used to usher at the Super Dome and may have been one of the first bag wearers in the days of the 'Aints.  We met in Johnston Hall dormitory on our first day as freshmen at LSU, shared a suite as sophomores, were in each other's weddings, and now live within a hour's drive of each other.  He introduced me to Monty Python, for God's sake.  Of all my friends, he logically should have been one of the first I told.  He's been one of the last.  Not sure where the reluctance to tell him came from.  I guess I felt guilty for not staying in more regular contact with him and his wife, Mary, and I didn't want my "How Ya Doin' " phone call to be about this topic.   I emailed him tonight, explained the situation, and gave him the URL to my blog.  Hopefully he's reading this. Sorry, Mikey.  I should have told you--I owed that to you.

Now this weekend's exciting adventure in clinical trials:

I warn you in advance, this is not the most pleasant post I've logged, but it does actually pertain to things medical, so I'll share.  Stop reading now if you don't like reading about rashes. (and sorry, I'm not posting a picture).

This weekend was a non-stop itch fest.  It really sucked.  Apparently, one of the side effects that Revlimid users can see is a raised rash.  Actually, it's a raised rash that itches like poison ivy and wakes the sufferer from a sound sleep scratching like a dog with fleas.  How do I know this?  Need you ask?

What started as a small raised patch on my right flank Friday morning spread like proverbial wildfire over the weekend until it involved both my legs (with extra attention to the thighs), my arms, and enough hard to reach places on my torso to round things out nicely.  Even with Benadryl, I couldn't sleep more than two straight hours on Saturday night.  I was truly starting to despair--at worst, this could mean that I would be out of the trial.  The rash hung around all day Sunday, seeming to move around from leg to leg, appearing and disappearing.  I called and left messages with the folks at Georgetown that this crap was going on.

Liz did some Googling and found that this rash is common among Revlimid users and that it sometimes resolves on its own.  Other times, it takes heavy duty steroids to knock it down.  Knowing how my luck usually works, I anticipated several more nights of sleeplessness with the strong possibility of having to suspend participation in the trial for a while.

I dreaded Sunday night.  Liz and Robbie went to bed; I sat in my chair watching TV and waiting for the Benadryl to kick in.  After a while, I got sleepy and the itching seemed to recede, so I went to bed in the guest room, where I slept like a rock until morning.  I woke up this morning to find my legs were clear.  The rash was pretty much gone.  Halle-frickin'-lujah.

As I sit and type this, I still have a few small patches on my legs and arms, but nothing like Sunday.  Don't know if this is a reprieve or if I've 'beaten' the rash.  Tonight was my last Revlimid for this cycle, so I'll get a week to clear my system.  Let you know how things work out.

One last:  I'm proud to announce I'm a new great uncle.  My niece Heather, supported by her husband Paul, gave birth on Saturday to an 8 lb 9 oz baby boy.  Ladies and gentlemen, I'm pleased to present Graham Bishop Dalton.  Welcome aboard, Graham.