In rugby there is something called a yellow card. The yellow card is used to penalize a player who has been warned or cautioned one too many times for dangerous or illegal play. The referee will fiercely blow their whistle and point directly at the offending player. They will call the player over, then pull the dreaded yellow card out of their pocket while still point a shaming finger at the guilty player. This player will then be sent to the sin bin (in the end zone), where they will watch their team continue to play one player short.

In my opinion, there are two types of players who get yellow cards; those who just make it their goal to make the opposition’s life completely miserable, and those who become so passionately involved in the game that they forget for a moment to play smart. I received two yellow cards over the ten or so years that I played rugby, and I would like to think that I fell into the latter category.

Now, in my current fight, it would seem that I have received another yellow card. I took on this game with a vengeance, accepting a very aggressive form of chemotherapy as part of my strategy. Up until yesterday, the game was going pretty smoothly. I had scored a few tries on cancer, made a few preemptive strikes and was counterattacking like mad with a mighty team at my back. Unfortunately, my first round of chemo has landed me in the sin bin if you will.

On Monday, when I went in for my scheduled blood work, my neutrophil count was too low. Neutrophils are the most abundant type of white blood cells and one of the first responders when the body is faced with inflammation (primarily due to infection). So, I had to go in for repeat blood work yesterday, an hour prior to when I was supposed to go in for round two of chemo. Although my neutrophil count had risen slightly (from 0.4 to 0.6), it still wasn’t nearly enough. The normal range is 1.5 – 8, and prior to receiving chemo they’d like you to be at 1.5 at least.

So, what does all this mean? According to my oncologist, it means I’m a very sensitive girl. No kidding. No, but seriously, it means that we wait a week for my neutrophil count to go up to a satisfactory level. I’ll get tested again next week, and if the level is still too low, then I will need to take another drug (Neupogen) to boost the neutrophils quickly and then carry on with chemo. I will then need to take the Neupogen with every round that follows. One delay is acceptable, but only one. For those that might be interested to know, Neupogen is not covered by standard health care in our province, and it is not cheap. We’re talking thousands of dollars a shot.

I asked the nurse a few times if there was anything, anything I could do to boost those levels on my own, and each time she assured me that there wasn’t. Being a fairly pro-active person, I found this extremely frustrating; to the point that I was in tears and felt the overpowering urge to start hitting walls. I do not like the “nothing I can do but wait” option, so needless to say, I am not fully convinced. However, I have been warned multiple times against seeking out so-called immune boosters from health food stores, as these “magic” concoctions can actually hinder chemotherapy.

So, what’s a girl to do? Well, let’s just say I spent the first minute in the sin bin kicking the dirt, hanging my head in shame and sulking like a toddler. Now, as the game carries on, I’ve realized that I’m still in the sin bin, my team will keep fighting and my best option is to get focused and psych myself up for when the referee (call him Dr. O.) lets me back onto the pitch. And let me tell you, when he does, I’ll be fired up, raring to go and ready to make my first big hit! So look out cancer – I have your number and I’m coming for you!