Red Cells and White Cells and Platelets, Oh My!

 In our entryway hangs a painting by Sam Toft. Sam is one of our favorite artists because of her whimsy and her unique style. We have several of her works (well, prints, actually). The painting I refer to is one of a set of four depicting the seasons of the year. The one currently on display is Spring. I was supposed to change it out for the Summer painting on the summer solstice, June 20, 2021. We have a dear friend who says he counts on our season painting to keep him straight on which season we are currently in.  I didn't change the Spring painting to the Summer, because by June 20th I was feeling pretty rotten and didn't know why. I just couldn't muster the strength or the desire to make the change. Five days later I landed in the hospital with a diagnosis of Acute Myeloid Leukemia. (It just occurred to me the irony that I didn't put up the summer painting, and I didn't really have a summer, at least not like the ones I have known.) This morning Jill and I had a

 Last week was kind of difficult, or at least complicated. By the time it was over, we had made four visits to the medical clinic. That's a thirty four mile round trip. Two of the visits were for blood draws. They were on Monday and Thursday. The other two, on Tuesday and Friday, were for platelet transfusions. I am approaching the point where my blood counts are at their lowest following my last round of chemotherapy.  When I am in this phase of the treatment, I get light-headed, fatigued and prone to bleeding. I was fortunate to get the Friday transfusion, because if I had not, and if I subsequently had a bleed, it would have meant a visit to the ER. That in turn would have meant mingling with lots of people. Now I like people, but with the current rise in Covid cases, I would just as soon not be exposed to them. Thank the Lord for Friday platelets!  Our son Patrick had a lot of fun teasing me about whether platelets were tiny little plates. As he put it, platelets < plates, l

Time is a precious thing. When we run low on time or waste it, we can't go out and get a job to earn more time, as we can when money runs low. (Yes, I know, sometimes getting a job is not as easy as saying, "I think I'll get a job," and poof, you have a job, but that's not my point here.) Time is like water you scoop up with your hand. It runs through between your fingers and before you know it, it's gone.  This past several days has been a little like that for me. The days go by, and although I want to be doing something "productive," I find that before I know it it is evening. I am tired and I want to sleep.  If you read my previous couple of posts, you know that I have had some symptoms that were confusing to me. As a result, I learned that it is not only my level of hemoglobin that determines how I am feeling and functioning, but other parts of my miraculous blood. Yesterday, I got an infusion of platelets. My platelet level had been plummeting f

 If you haven't read my last, previous post, please be kind, and just skip over it.  The older I get the more it seems I only open my mouth to insert a foot! After all the complications involved with getting my blood drawn yesterday, and with all my bragging about how I just knew my hemoglobin was plummeting and that I would undoubtedly be the recipient of at least a red blood cell transfusion today, well I was just wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong!  When the lab results came back, not only has my hemoglobin NOT  plummeted, it actually increased very slightly. Now, in my defense, it is still below the normal range, but nevertheless, I read my symptoms incorrectly. My platelet count is rapidly tanking, but RBCs, not so much.  After I got this news, I became a bit alarmed, because based on my rudimentary knowledge of blood tests, I could not see anything in the lab results to explain my symptoms of light-headedness, ataxia and general feeling of weakness. This is the point at which, if you

 Learning to read is a big task. I suppose that's why it is best to do it while one is young and has a bright young mind to absorb the details and the nuances involved in turning ink blotches on a page into coherent thoughts to be transferred to the brain. It's kind of like digitizing old photos. You need a sensory device (camera) to record the ink blotches (letters, photos) and a powerful processor to convert the images into strings of impulses that can later be sorted by processing them in reverse to extract their meaning and reconstruct the image.  Now what is that all about? It occurred to me that part of this experience of living with a new paradigm is like learning a new language and how to read it. Today, I have an appointment for a blood draw. The purpose of the blood draw is to tell my medical team how my body is responding to the recent chemotherapy I had. In the meantime, though, I have discovered that my body can tell me a lot about what is going on without doing la

Home again! Consolidation chemotherapy session number one is in the history books. It went well. I feel great, and (did I mention this?) I'm home. I convinced Jill that I don't want her to become my full time caretaker. I want her for my wife. So, we hired a housecleaning agency. While we were at the Club, they came in and did a thorough, deep cleaning of the house. So, we came home to that. Not quite as dramatic as the new floors, but also not as intrusive. Shine and Sparkle will be back every other week to help Jill keep the house, while she attends to a lot of other things that I normally would do.  As we were on our way home yesterday, we were passing a field, or maybe it was a truck, but something had a strong odor of onion. We started talking about all kinds of things it could be: onion, garlic, leek, scallion, and then we could not think of the other "s" bulb.  We both wracked our brains for the word. For years, I have maintained that failing memory in the elde

 "Rounding the club house turn." Isn't that what they call it just before the horses head down the stretch to the finish line? Well, whatever that means, I think I am there for this round at Club Sunnyside. I have had four of my six doses of chemotherapy, and I feel like the horse on the stretch, riding the rail.  Hemoglobin and ANC are starting to fade, Low Immunity is beginning to make his move on the outside. Lethargy is also beginning to plan his advance in the pack. Confidence remains steady and Spirit is near the head of the pack. Although this race is only 5 furlongs, it feels good to be leading the pack and anticipating a win by at least a half a length. Then I will be put out to pasture for about three weeks prior to the next race.  Those of you in the stands, keep on cheering, please. I need all the encouragement I can get.  1 Corinthians 9:24 Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it.

I mentioned yesterday my concerns about returning to the hospital, when I am feeling so good. Well, just let me suggest that you not go to the "dark place," as I call it when Jill or I over-react to unknown future events.  I have had two of six doses of the consolidation chemotherapy that I will receive during this visit, and I feel great. My appetite is good and my energy is good, too. I expected to feel pretty awful by now. Nope! Now, when I get home on Monday, my immune system will begin to tank, and my hemoglobin will drop, leaving me lethargic again, but I am not going to imagine how that will be, because I don't want to go to that "dark place."  Although I have not actually inquired about the term, the staff keeps referring to this consolidation chemotherapy as "high dose Cytarabine." Here is what I have concluded. I am actually receiving a higher concentration of the same medication I had before, while I am plugged into Olive Oyl for my infusion

Did you ever have one of those situations where you feel uneasy, but you can't figure out exactly why? That's how my morning began. Eventually, I figured out what was going on.  I am back at Club Sunnyside for round one of consolidation chemotherapy. It hit me as we were walking from the admitting desk to the Oncology department on level 4A. The last time I checked in here, I felt lousy and arrived on an ambulance gurney, and although I had to stay a month, when I left I felt good. This time I came in feeling great and arrived under my own power. After the chemotherapy, I know I will feel less than great for a while.  In the night, when I woke up with this uneasiness, I was reminded of the story of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane on the night he was arrested. He knew He was going to go through a very difficult and painful time, and worst of all, He would be separated from His Father. He even prayed, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my wi

We met with Dr. Waugh, the HemOnc this morning. The first thing she said was, "You are in remission." That was music to our ears! There was a caveat, however. In addition to leukemia, the most recent biopsy also revealed another bone marrow condition called systemic mastocytosis. This is apparently a rare condition that involves an excessive number of mast cells throughout the body. Mast cells are an important part of the immune system, but when they are in over-abundance, they can cause allergic type reactions.  According to Dr. Waugh, this condition has probably been present for some time, but was masked by the high number of white cells in my blood prior to my first round of chemotherapy. She indicated that it does not alter the treatment plan for my AML, but needs to be monitored so that I don't have excessive allergic events. If I understood her correctly, this situation can be managed with anti-allergy medications like Zyrtec.  So, what's next? I will be admitte

A dear friend is hurting, deeply hurting. A dear friend of hers is being intubated today because she has a severe case of Covid-19. Her friend has suffered through a lot of difficulty in her life, including her own cancer, her husband's cancer, a child's health issues that proved to be nearly fatal and another child's drug addiction. In spite of it all, this woman and her husband remain faithful and put their lives in God's hands.  My friend is angry. She asked for prayer and guidance. She asked, "How can God allow this to happen???! Haven’t they been through enough?? Haven’t they proven their faith? How can he let Satan do this?" I think many of us have had similar questions as we have navigated the treacherous waters of life.  I am encouraged that my friend recognizes that God has not "done these things" to her friends, although He has allowed them to happen. My friend is an emotional person who has lived through her own encounters with evil in her

Yesterday I had my second bone marrow biopsy. This one was a tiny bit harder than the last one, but certainly not an ordeal. I will hear the results when I have my Hematology Oncology appointment with Dr. Waugh on Monday.  In the meantime, I had another blood draw today, which was encouraging. My hemoglobin continues to increase, and my ANC is in the middle of the normal range. While I was at the Nurse Treatment Room today, I mentioned that next Monday I have three appointments scheduled. The first is with the HemOnc at 10 AM at the Skyline Office in South Salem. The second is for a Covid test in preparation for my admission to Sunnyside Hospital next Wednesday. That one is scheduled for 2:30 PM at the North Lancaster Medical Office, which is on the far side of Salem. The third appointment is for my next blood draw and dressing change and is scheduled for 3:30PM at the Skyline Office.  Upon hearing about all of this running around that we have planned, the nurse who drew my blood said,

Yesterday marked one week since I came home. I am feeling quite good at this point. I can tell I'm still slightly anemic, but Jill and I have been walking every day, and she commented during our morning constitutional that I was walking at a "brisk" pace. It feels good to be able to do that and not feel like I am going to pass out at the end.  In the afternoon, I had one of my two weekly blood draws. The lab results were quite satisfying. My hemoglobin has risen again from 8.3 last Thursday to 9.1 yesterday. This is still below the normal range of 13-17, which explains why I still feel anemic.  Platelets have gone up to 557, which is above the normal range. This is why Dr. Waugh put me back on anit-coagulant therapy. Finally, my ANC (absolute neutrophil count) is at 4,750, comfortably within the normal range. My immunity is coming back. These results are comforting to me and indicate that my body is bouncing back from the chemotherapy just as we had hoped. Life is good; i