Red Cells and White Cells and Platelets, Oh My!

If only I could remember things from one day to the next. In my previous post, I shared that my ANC has been plummeting over the course of the last three weeks. This is a great concern to me, because just as we were beginning to emerge from quarantine, I learned that my immunity is dropping again. The fact that I couldn't seem to connect with the oncology office didn't help to allay my anxiety.  Yesterday, I was finally able to make contact with the oncology office. I spoke with one of the nurses about my concerns, and what she had to say was, well, helpful if not comforting. She reminded me that recovery from chemotherapy takes a long time...several months to a year. One of the things that happens as my body seeks the point of equilibrium between my bone marrow being beaten down by the chemo and returning to its normal function of making new blood cells is that there are periods when new cell production goes kind of wild and may overshoot the target.  There are also times when

Life is full of little surprises and little mysteries. For example, white Christmases are somewhat unusual in Dallas, OR. And although the snow didn't start falling in earnest until Christmas evening, we did have an accumulation of maybe an inch of the white stuff by the time we went to bed. The next day we awoke to about 4" on the ground, and the storm brought us another three or four inches during the day. And then, yesterday, we awoke to about three additional inches of snow.  Mondays I have a standing appointment for my blood draws and PIIC line dressing change. We debated about pursuing the 23 mile drive to the clinic in Salem and back, given the road conditions. Then it occurred to me that to miss my appointment would mean having to go later in the week. Since the forecast doesn't sound encouraging for the weather conditions to improve before the weekend, "later in the week" would effectively mean next Monday. In other words, I would go two weeks without la

I just shared the following with some of my ministry partners, and I decided I would like to share it with all my dear readers.   

Today is a red letter day! We will have a visit from our son Patrick and his wife Katie and their two beautiful daughters Ryanne and Megan. With the exception of medical personnel and neighbors we have encountered while walking, with whom we maintain distances on the order of 20 feet and conversations on the order of 5 minutes or less, this will be our first in person visit with anyone since we began our quarantine in June. This will be our perfect Christmas present.  We are discovering that "un-quarantining" is something of a challenge. We do not want to remain in quarantine forever, but we also don't want to take foolish chances with being exposed to illness, given that my immunity is, at best, compromised. So, we are going about it in baby steps. We will see our son and his family today. They are all vaccinated against Covid19, as are we. They have not had any known exposures, nor do they have any symptoms of illness. The same is true for us. This seems like a pretty s

One hundred six years ago today, my mom was born in Tacoma, WA. Seven years ago, as of the 10th of this month, she passed away in Portland, OR, just eight days short of her 99th birthday. She might have made 100, had she not fallen and broken her back in three places. She was bright and alert and healthy up until that time, although her body was wearing out.  I guess the point of this reminiscence is that none of us ever knows what is coming or how long we will be around to find out. As I reflect on my journey through the land of leukemia, I realize how important it is to live everyday to the fullest. The author of the Book of Hebrews wrote, "...let us run with endurance the race that is set before us." (Hebrews 12:1) In other words, we are given so many days on this earth, and we need to continue moving forward as long as the Lord gives us breath. You are no doubt familiar with Aesop's fable of the tortoise and the hare: The Hare was once boasting of his speed before t

You know something?  It feels good to feel good! I had more lab work yesterday. All of my blood parameters are in the normal range, except for my red blood cells (RBC). But, and this is big, my RBCs are rebounding at an amazing rate. Two weeks ago, my hemoglobin was at 7.7 gm/dL (grams per deciliter of blood), whereas the normal range is 13-17 (let's drop the gm/dL). Last Monday, it had risen to 8.8, and yesterday it was up to 10.7. Now, at the risk of pointing out the obvious, my hemoglobin rose a little over one point the first week and almost two points the second week.  Hemoglobin, as you will know if you have been following the blog, is a protein contained in RBCs that carries oxygen to the tissues in the body. When there is not enough hemoglobin, the tissues starve for oxygen, including the brain. I think I have also previously used the analogy of exerting oneself at a considerably higher altitude than one is accustomed to and feeling short of breath and light-headed. That

It's amazing how much having a decision made and behind you frees you up to move forward. When I went off to college at age 17, I was admitted to Yale University in New Haven, CT.  I was a graduate of a public high school in Portland, OR. To say that I suffered some culture shock would be a gross understatement.  Most of the people I met at Yale were nice enough, but most of them also were graduates of private preparatory schools, mainly on the east coast, but also including one of my roommates who attended Punahou school in Honolulu, the same school Barak Obama later attended. These "preppies" had a completely different worldview than I had. They were, well, more worldly. They were self assured and seemed to have the notion that they were somehow a cut above those of us who had attended public schools.  During the one semester I spent at Yale, I was miserable. I was accustomed to being a straight A student, but now I found myself struggling to pull down Cs. In addition,

In previous posts, I have anguished over the fact that I would soon need to make a huge, potentially life altering decision: to wit, will I proceed with a bone marrow transplant (BMT) or not? This decision is not like deciding whether I will wear a plain shirt or a striped shirt; it is not even like deciding whether I will pay my taxes or not. In my mind this decision is on the order of Russian roulette, you know the "game" where you put one cartridge in the cylinder of a revolver, spin the cylinder, and without looking, put the revolver to your temple and pull the trigger.  In the strictly theoretical sense, Russian roulette gives you a one in six chance of blowing your brains out.  (This, of course, is why I always use my NINE shot .22 caliber pistol when I play Russian roulette!) Even if you factor in the weight of that one bullet in the cylinder, which might make it more likely that the spinning cylinder will stop with the bullet laden chamber at the bottom, away from the