Moving Out

So, here's the thing about bone marrow transplants. They are BOOOOOORIIIIING! The word "transplant" conjures all sorts of images of doctors clearing the halls, knocking over trays of hospital food to get the precious marrow from the donor to the recipient in time. It couldn't be further from the truth. It's just a big red bag that hangs on the IV pole and drips away. The most exciting part of the day is the number of times the nurses check vitals looking for any reaction to the marrow.

The good news is that my stay here in Unit 5B of the Weinburg building has been boring from the beginning. The nurses like to say here, "Boring is good," which means no surprises, no complications, no major concerns and that has largely been the case. I battled a fever just a few days after the transplant that cooled quickly with aggressive antibiotics, but that has really been the only bump on a very smooth road. Even the effects of the chemo have been very tolerable with the worst behind me.

The next major step is seeing blood counts start to recover and that may not happen for at least another week. I haves lived with low counts for so long that I don't feel an empty tank, but I am no less excited about seeing blood counts start to come up. Once the counts start to appear, it will be easy to tell if it is the new marrow that is working and not my own trying to bounce back. Because my own marrow produced abnormal red cells, the new marrow will produce healthy blood cells which they can easily test for.

Now boring may be good for the transplant, but it's driving me nuts. Sure I'm reading, watching movies, taking naps, doing what I can to let time go by, but checking out and coming in as an outpatient is sounding better and better all the time. The good news is that barring any surprises, I will be checking out this coming Sunday to start the next phase of the recovery process. I'll stay in campus housing and come in just during the day for treatments. It doesn't sound very different, but getting out of this unit having a little more independence will make a huge difference for me.

I do need to recognize Kari, my sister, in this whole process. She was a trooper and in spite of her anxiety before, her exhaustion the day of, and her soreness during recovery, she gave cheerfully and willingly. Thanks to Lach who marched her around DC just a few days after the procedure, she recovered quickly (the doctors told her it is good for her to be up and moving). I love my sister, and I will never forget what she went through for me.

The waiting game continues, and prayers for continued patience are appreciated. Obviously we are praying that counts start to come up and that I can remain relatively free of complications, but waiting sometimes is harder than anything else.

Grace, Love, and Warm Cookies

Every once in a while, God throws us something special. It feels less like a divine moment and more like getting a full size candy bar while trick-or-treating or catching a free t-shirt that's been shot from a cannon at a college football game. He reveals to us exactly how and who he uses to answer our prayers. The prayer and the answer is between Him and me, but the message is universal. Our hope and our faith are justified in an instant when secret Santa stands up at the Christmas party and says, "It was me, I hope you like it...it had 'you' written all over it!"

It does confirm my faith in the Almighty, but that may not be God's only purpose. What God says to me here is that he loves me and he wants me to be happy. God is in no way proving himself to me. Instead, he is sending me a care package from heaven and the cookies are still warm. Like a father longing to embrace his son from far away, He just wanted to show me how much he cares for me.

So far this process has been uneventful and verging on boring...at least for me. "Boring," my nurse said, "is a good thing around here." I am tolerating the chemo well, although I am only two doses in and expecting my third this evening. It is amazing to me how such a little bag that takes only an hour to run can turn people upside down, physically and psychologically. So far, nothing has been as bad as I have anticipated. Whether that continues remains to be seen.

One of the positive turns in this process is that I may be released from inpatient to outpatient status much sooner than originally thought. That means I would live across the street in hospital outpatient housing and come in for daily treatments. Things need to continue to go as well as they have so far, but it is a possibility none the less.

"The Donor" is en route via road trip in a hippie hybrid car (just kidding Lach, I love that car) and should be in town Monday. According to the hospital staff, I'm being born again...again. They refer to transplant day as my new birthday. July 12 is easy for me, just another bag dripping from my IV pole but my sister has a rough go. She'll be under anesthesia, but recovery can be a little uncomfortable.

I can't sign off without thanking everyone for your prayers and support. Through all of you, God has revealed to me new measures of His love. I only hope each of you can experience the same Grace, Love, and warm cookies that God has shown me.