Yesterday a routine call from the pharmacist prior to next week’s treatment turned into a visit to hospital visit..
My ALT was 216 and the pharmacist had decided to postpone my treatment for at least a week until this was investigated.
The pharmacist sounded surprised when I said I was feeling ok although so I admitted to having had a bit of a stomach ache which had been bothering me for a week or so. I wanted to put it down to indigestion when I first got it or perhaps something I had eaten. When it continued I thought I had been pushing my activity levels too much although my step count begged to differ! I realised I had been dodging reality when I was told I needed to come in straight away for another blood test and might need to be put on intravenous steroids.
I had just switched from intravenous infusion to sub-cutaneous injections of Nivolumab; This was a possible cause of the upset explained the pharmacist and the doctor would need to check me out.
The call was at about 10:30am and my taxi driver (wife) had a dental appointment at 2pm so we’d need to get going quickly as the hospital was an hour and a half round trip.
When I googled Raised ALT and saw the potential seriousness I realised that I’d been a bit foolish. I am an archetypal positive thinker which, aside from the benefits, can lead me into trouble. I know people who have lived for more than a decade following immunotherapy treatment and want to believe that I can too. I also remember the jaundiced faces of those that I have known and died and occasionally need a reality check.
The second set of bloods wasn’t as bad (210) so I was given steroid tablets, a prescription for more and told I could go home. My wife had left for her dental appointment by then and arranged for my step-daughter to pick me up at about half 3; she had taken the afternoon off. I am incredibly grateful for the care I am given on a daily basis by my family and a very lucky man. My other step-daughter will be around on Sunday 
I reflect also on the care given to me by the hospital whose staff are all amazing from the clinical to the catering, who regularly acknowledge the faces they have become familiar with over these last months since my diagnosis.
I am stuck with the words of the nurse who reminded me of what the ALERT card telephone number was for; something I should not be afraid to use in future.
