Sometimes ya Gotta Fake It.

Today, Jim's Physical Therapy begins, and who have they nominated to hold shut his johnnie as we sprint (think Tim Conway) up and down the halls of the Stem Cell Unit?    Moi!  Obviously it is a position of great prestige, requiring a certificate (marriage will do) and the ability to shout "I need some help here, someone...."  in the several languages spoken on the 7th floor of Feldberg.  I knew this would be coming, as I have seen suspicious bald people inching up and down the halls, accompanied by a significant other and an IV pole.  

I will lather on my best smile, conjure up the enthusiasm I usually reserve for Hand Painted macaroni necklaces, (for ME?!!! oh, how beautiful,... I will wear it always under my bathrobe) and remember gratitude and how we are building to a better future.  Do I really  have to enjoy it, or may I fake it?  

The Beard Hung In and So Did Jim!!

Merry Christmas (or facsimile thereof) to all.  Jim spent Christmas in bed, with his new stem cells incubating and doing whatever it is stem cells do on Christmas.  (Pause for a visual... snow scene, little stem cell skaters gliding in figure eights to the Skater's waltz).  Since his infusion, he has been somewhat confused, had his first infection (in the line installed to feed him everything from stem cells to platelets to meds) and gained 40 pounds of water weight.  One hand is cartoonishly huge, and the "team" is collectively scratching their heads, since when they give him a diuretic, his kidney function flags.   Need to figure that one out.  That hand is not gonna fit in a cookie jar as it is.

The great news tonight is that he is officially off the neutropenic precautions...which means his blood count is on the rise.  At a certain plateau, it is considered safe to gradually introduce "the world."  Actually, after careful observation, he may want to reconsider re-entering the world as it is.  But I guess everything is relative!  The tenacity his dad's DNA bequeathed him has been a gift to date!

For the rest of us, Christmas was in many ways like other years.  Big gathering of the clan here on Christmas Eve,  lots of kids and confusion, savories and sweets, ripped wrapping paper and scary knives required to penetrate the packaging.  (My theory is that the same people who send lead-laced painted toys and questionable foodstuffs are also responsible for wiring and sealing toys with such machiavellian flourish. Could be terrorists!)

Special Delivery!!

Christmas Tree.... check
Bags of pecans.....check
bags of stem cells..three down, six to go....check!

Jim started receiving his stem cells yesterday.  Lynn and I got to the hospital around 10, and had only a minute to wish him luck before the white coats came in with their precious cargo.  He was sedated and only very vaguely remembers our being there, but the trip was still worth it.  This morning I  spoke with him and they will resume the re-infusion and will give him the final batch this afternoon.  


After that....we wait.  Patience was one thing I always knew I needed to acquire, but the weird part is that waiting to for it only makes you impatient.  


And of course, the real world presses on, deaf to the things that have crowded our days.  Bill collectors are relentlessly precise,  gas tanks empty with impressive regularity, and, well, just forget about covering my gray hairs which have their own persistent agenda.  The tree stands bare in the living room, but at least it is upright.  One especially annoying "friend" on Facebook gloats over her comp-leted shopping and wrapping. *
My dining room table is under about a foot of paper that I think blew in from the World Trade Center.  Just random clumps begging to be filed.  But there are spritz cookies to be made.  Maybe not this year.  Making those little suckers stick to the pan and not the press pushes my patience to the tippling point even on a good day.


Last night the TV in the office blew up.  I heard a "pop" which to my musically trained ear sounded like "POP".  Maybe a fuse or tube or something, followed by something electronic making ghastly sound  inside the TV.  A truly frightening and ungodly racket.  I knew it needed to be shut off/disconnected, but thanks to Jim's training at the Rube Goldberg Academy of Wiring and Aeronotics, where was no obvious place to look for the plug.  Certain that if I touched the wrong spot, this was it for me, I carefully stepped over the boxes and files abandoned a year ago and managed to at least make the sound stop.  My sense is that this TV with only about 100 hours on it is toast.  Aah well.  Got to have something to keep the boredom at bay!!


*Note to self:  drive by and egg her self-inflating Santa.  

FINALLY!

Well, it happened!  I took Jim to the hospital Friday morning and they admitted him for his transplant!!  With a little luck and Divine intervention,  Jim will start receiving the chemo to kill his blood and plasma cells this morning, and will get the stem cell transplant on Tuesday.   It should only take 15-20 minutes for the cell infusion.  I can barely get my mascara on in 15 minutes!!   First, however, they will put in a line through which the chemo will be pumped, and also the stem cells.  I'm leaving for the hospital soon to be there with him  for the Melphalan (chemo drug).  


Someone asked me what the hoped-for outcome of all this effort, drama and anticipation is.  Excellent point!  The goal of the transplant is to kill all his blood cells (in which the cancer has been reduced) and inject the stem cells which will go deep into his bones and start replacing the blood cells (minus the cancer).  In three months, we will know whether the desired remission has happened or not.   The best we can hope for is remission, because the myeloma ALWAYS comes back, but it can be months or a decade, of reasonable health, depending on the individual.  


My dad, as I mentioned before, had a kidney transplant back in the late 1970's  That was such drama, because the donor was his brother, and it involved invasive surgery.  Then there were all the drugs he needed to take to prevent rejection.  But this is so benign it feels almost like voodoo.  Fifteen minutes of easing a tiger into your tank, and not even a needle hole to bear witness to the occasion.   


I know there are ethical questions regarding the stem cell research on embryonic cells, but it will be exciting to discover how many diseases can be conquered in the next decade.  Then again, if lots more people live, what does that do to the already dodgy social security and entitlement numbers.  Do we want people to die all over the world, just so the ranks of those who depend on the social services doesn't reach the cracking point for everyone who needs them, and then malnutrition and starvation will just slip into the place formerly occupied by disease in the list of causes of death?


I need some coffee.   


And a magic wand.

GREAT NEWS!!

Jim's oncologist called a few hours ago to say Jim had produced a million stem cells over the past two days.  Dr. L. says he will probably have enough by Friday to end the pheresis.  This is EXCELLENT news, and since you've had to wade with us through the disappointments, I wanted to let you know things are looking up!  Too bad I'm too dignified to do a cartwheel. Yes, that's what proscribes it.   My dignity.  Oh, and my knees,  my back, my hands...anyway,, that's me on the right.