Red Cells and White Cells and Platelets, Oh My!

Virtual church. It's just not the same as gathering with friends for worship. This morning we were actually able to attend our church online. The last couple of weeks that was not an option. Our church, which instituted streaming the services during the Covid19 shutdowns, was having problems with the technology and we were not able to receive the signal. We do feel blessed that, although Dallas Church now has in person services (in fact they resumed in July, 2020), we also are able to stream the services for those who, for whatever reason, are not able to attend in person (that would include the immuno-compromised, like me). Still it is not the same.  All of that being said, this morning, the technology was working, and one of the elders, Geoff, gave a sermon titled Mission Possible. That iconic reference, of course, is to the TV Series from the '60s and the later series of movies Mission Impossible. As a foundational Scripture reference, Geoff used Matthew 19:26, "But Jes

Today was lab day. Always a mixed blessing. On  the one hand, I am anxious to see my progress, and on the other, especially with the Thursday labs, I am concerned that I may need a transfusion, there will be no appointments available at the medical office, and another trip to the ER will be called for.  In an effort to prevent further ER visits, I connected with oncology and told them my sad tale of Monday's experience . The staff was in agreement that spending nine hours in ER, with its attendant dangers, to get a one our job done is not a good idea. We came up with a plan to have more frequent testing when my platelet count reaches a certain level. That will give us more lead time to get an appointment for transfusion.  Today's labs were interesting to me for several reasons. First, my hemoglobin is low, which is not surprising, but this will be the first time since I was at the Club for the original round of induction chemotherapy that I have needed a red blood cell transfus

There are a couple of things you don't want to hear from your doctor. One would be, "Go the the ER, now!" But another and maybe more terrifying one is, "They are swamped right now!" I know that the people working in the ER have no control over who shows up or when, but really couldn't people be more orderly about having emergencies? Why must they show up in droves, when I need to go there?  Yesterday's blood draw showed a platelet level of 7. Now, just for some perspective, when my platelet level gets below 50, I have to stop taking the blood thinner I have been taking to prevent more blood clots in my leg. If I continue to take it, there is significant risk of a serious bleeding event, the most serious being a brain bleed.   I knew when I got up yesterday morning, that my platelets must be low. Telltale signs include bleeding from my nose, hematomas (blood blisters) in my mouth and little red spots (petechiae) on my skin. I had 'em all. As grandpa u

Last night, I awoke once again in need of a trip to the bathroom. Between the chemo drugs and the huge amounts of water that I consume to help flush them out of my body, these awakenings happen multiple times every night. Sometimes, I have difficulty in getting back to sleep. That's where I found myself in the wee hours.  Often, my wakefulness is the result of my mind becoming focused on something about which I'm troubled or curious or something I think I need to take care of. In this case, I decided to have a little pity party. Surprisingly, I was not feeling sorry for myself because I have leukemia, but because I have to go through the chemotherapy treatments. I find the times between treatments tiresome, because, well, I'm tired all the time. I'm unsteady on my feet, and feel as if I'm prematurely aged. I am accustomed to robust health and being able to pursue the things I love to do with a good measure of energy.  Of course, the irony of all of this is that with

"Let no grass grow under your feet," that's what I always say. I came home from Club Sunnyside on Monday. Yesterday (Thursday) I had my first blood draw for stat labs since I was discharged, and before the results were posted, I got emails indicating I am already scheduled for my next visit to the Club. I have appointments for all my blood work and a pre-admission consultation with the oncology nurse practitioner. I also got an email directing me to schedule a Covid screening test. I haven't made that appointment yet, simply because the options for scheduling require me to go to another medical office. Since I will be having blood drawn at the Skyline Medical office on the very day that I am directed to have the Covid test, I will request to have them done at the same visit.  It's odd how experience shapes perception. I have had a harder time with the aftermath of the chemo this round. It's not that I feel ill, I am just weaker and have experienced more light-

Every day a new adventure awaits. "Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning" (Psalm 30:5) No weeping tarried for me last night, but a lot of trips to the bathroom did, as my body clears out the aftermath of my latest chemotherapy. I lost three pounds since yesterday morning; all fluid I'm sure. Please don't think this is a miracle diet. It's a hard way to lose weight.  Jill has been concerned about the weight loss I experienced during the induction chemotherapy and the first round of consolidation. She's been feeding my like a prize steer in the Chicago stock yards. I bottomed out at 183 pounds, but I am back up to my usual 195 as of today. The medical staff has told me this is no time to concern myself with weight control or calorie counting, so I haven't. Now my concern, as a compulsive eater, is whether I will be able to curb my intake, when the time is right. Mmmm, ice cream every evening... Today, I am feeling the effects of the

Stepping from the car, after a pleasant ride home from Club Sunnyside, Tom was excited to see the new look of the front of the house, where four overgrown plants were removed in his absence. He took a few steps out of the garage, and in the midst of acknowledging a "Welcome Home!" from the neighbor across the street, he promptly found himself in a pile in the bark dust.  My knees just collapsed! Went to jelly. It is the oddest sensation when a body part just stops working as expected. There was absolutely nothing I could do, except to accept my fate. This was not the homecoming I had planned or hoped for. It was awkward and a bit sobering.  Thank God it was also short-lived. I got up and dusted myself off, thankful that I didn't go over backward and bash my brains out on the pavement. I got my cane from the house and we proceeded to take our daily walk around the neighborhood without further incident.  The day was pleasant after that. My ANC, is currently high, and on the

Dose six of six for this round of consolidation chemotherapy is underway, and I am scheduled to go home again this morning. I told Jill yesterday that the last day is the hardest...you know, "so close and yet so far away!"  This round has been a good one. My plans for more things to occupy our time here at the Club have worked out splendidly. We finished our novel yesterday. It was full of twists and turns that we didn't expect, as all good mysteries are,  and we thoroughly enjoyed it.  I have watched some old, old movies that I really enjoy but that aren't among Jill's favorites. It fills my time after she leaves me for the day.  We have been able to walk daily around the campus, because the weather has been perfect and my blood counts have been in the range where I have a fair amount of energy. Yesterday, we walked 1.8 miles; not bad for an ailing septuagenarian!  And so today I am homeward bound. While I was gone we had a tree service come in and trim trees and

September 11, 2021. It is twenty years since we all were assaulted by the horror of airliners full of people crashing into buildings full of people. Briefly the greatest nation the world has ever seen was brought to its knees. And then the first responders arrived, rushing into the fray as everyone else fled the death and destruction. Over 3, 000 lives were lost that terrible day. The families of those 3,000 still live with the terror and senseless loss of that tragic day. In the aftermath, people did what people always do, when the world they knew is turned upside down. We ask, "Why?" And then we go to church and say a few prayers for a few weeks, and then we begin to forget. So, now we have a generation of college students who only know about "9-11" from history books. It kind of takes the punch out of the terror we all felt that day. I wasn't around for the Pearl Harbor attack in 1941, but after 9-11, I felt I could understand more what our nation must have b

It is day two of my current stay at Club Sunnyside. Doses one and two of HiDAC* chemotherapy have been administered. That went well. The condo where Jill stayed last time has not been available, because our dear, generous friends who lent it to us have been staying there this week. In truth, they invited Jill to stay in one of the guest rooms with them, but they had extended family there with them, and it seemed like we would be intruding, in spite of their protestations to the contrary.  Because we chose not to stay in the condo the night before my hospital admission, scheduled for 7:45AM yesterday, we had to leave home around 6:15AM, (good thing we are early risers by nature), which caused a departure from our usual routine of a leisurely cup of coffee and catching up on email, but it was not a difficult change. We arrived in plenty of time and were admitted at 7:45.  Unfortunately, because the hospital is experiencing high occupancy right now, due to a surge in Covid19 cases and a s

After a rather tumultuous run-up to the big event, we are definitely scheduled for admission to Club Sunnyside tomorrow at 7:45AM.  My most current labs are pending, but given that they looked great on Sunday, we are confident there will be no surprises.  A few things we have learned during previous vacations at the Club. First, during consolidation chemotherapy rounds, there is a lot of unoccupied time. Chemotherapy happens on day one about 5PM, that's so the second dose can be given at 5AM the next morning. This arrangement is good for the patient, in that I won't be awakened at, say, 1AM for the second dose, which would be the case if they started therapy at 1PM. It also works out well for the staff. They can get the chemotherapy administration, which takes around two hours, completed before the shift changes at 7:30.  So, if we do the math, Check-in is at 7:45AM and Chemo starts around 5:00PM. That's about nine hours of unstructured time. Some of it will be occupied by

Sometimes things just don't go as we planned or thought they would. As Jill and I approach our next visit to Club Sunnyside, everything has been falling neatly into place. I had blood work on Thursday. We had a pre-admission consultation with an oncology nurse practitioner on Friday. All of my labs looked good; well, my ANC was at zero, but there was time for it to rebound. I have made an appointment for a pre-admission Covid19 test for Monday, and I have an appointment for more blood work on Tuesday. Wednesday is D-Day: check-in day at the Club.  But, last night I went to bed after taking my evening meds; all five of them. I woke up around 10PM (yes, I was already in bed asleep by 10) and found that when I would take a deep breath, I had some kind of tension or pressure in my upper chest and lower neck. Now, this wasn't the classic "elephant sitting on my chest" that people describe associated with an acute myocardial infarction. For one thing, it was not constant; i