The Wheat and the Chaff

BOX SCORE
Element	Current	Std. Range	Trend
Hemoglobin	8.1	13-17	v
Platelets	175	140-375	^
ANC	2560	1800-8300	v

When I was working as a dentist, and especially during the time when I was clinic director with a group of six or seven dentists in my charge, not to mention a staff of clerks, assistants and dental hygienists, I found it pretty easy to get distracted from my main responsibility: giving the best possible care I was capable of to my patients. I am happy to report that after thirty-two years of clinical practice, I never removed the wrong tooth, I never caused any serious harm to a patient, I never had a patient die in my chair. The closest I came to that was when a patient had a grand mal seizure. I had had plenty of training in handling medical emergencies in the dental office. In fact, I taught the course for several years. 

When a young woman had a seizure in my chair, I felt pretty confident that all would be well in the end. My assistant, Karen, on the other hand, totally lost her composure. She stood beside the chair jumping up and down and hollering, "Oh, my God. Oh, my God." In the midst of trying to protect the patient from hurting herself, I had to grab Karen by the shoulders and tell her, "Look at me! Go next door and get Dr. Andy to come in here. NOW!" I guess I got her attention, because Andy showed up and helped me restrain the patient until the seizure ended. No harm was done. In fact, when I suggested we have her come back another day for treatment, the patient said, "I couldn't possibly do that [the seizure] again today. I'm already numb, let's just fix the tooth." 

If I recall correctly, Karen chose to clean instruments for the remainder of the shift. She suffered the most trauma of anyone! The point of my story is that sometimes things happen that we aren't expecting, and they can create confusion and stress. When the chips are down, it is important to be able to separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. 

I have arrived at a moment like that in my leukemia journey. There is no way to avoid any longer making the decision about bone marrow transplant (BMT). But there are so many pieces to this puzzle. 

First, the process of BMT is pretty physically and emotionally taxing. It was described to me this way, when first I was told that I may be a candidate:

The induction chemotherapy that kept me in the hospital for a month back in 2021 is like being hit by a car. The Hi-Dac chemotherapy that I received each month for the following four months is like being hit by a semi. And the BMT process is like being hit by a train. 

If that isn't enough to make you swallow hard and think twice about the whole thing, I don't know what is. 

Second, the risk of reactions between my own tissues and the transplant tissue is great enough that we would have to live within 25 minutes of the Knight Cancer Center (KCC) in Portland, in case I should have a reaction after I am released from the hospital. So, we would need to find living quarters for three to four months. 

There is a recovery period of about a year after the transplant before life gets back to normal. There is no guarantee that BMT will cure the leukemia once and for all. It could relapse and cause me to need chemotherapy even afterwards. 

If we are living in Portland, we will not be living in Dallas. No, Tom, duh! Well, we love our home and our neighbors, and it would be devastating if anything should happen to them. 

There are a number of maintenance projects that I have on my mind for our home and our yard. They will all be on hold, while we are gone. And I haven't brewed any beer in months!!

I feel a little like Karen at this point...you know...with the jumping up and down and the hollering....

What I need to do is separate the wheat from the chaff. I need to get the noise out of my head, so I can focus on the main thing. And the main thing is, what will be the best thing for me and Jill and our family? At this point you may want to read Walking with my Abba Father. In that post I self-talked my way through this decision process. My mind was clear and I felt the Lord had his arm around my shoulder and was telling me how much he loves me and how much I can trust him. 

I reread that post myself a little while ago. It calmed me and gave me clarity about the issues at hand. I ended that post with this line: "So, I believe I can confidently walk through whatever doors He opens as we walk together into the future." 

Jill and I have adopted the mantra, "One day at a time." It's the only way I can live my life without making myself crazy. And I only have to deal with one day's worth of chaff getting between me and the wheat each day. I think my decision is made. Pray with me that my Abba Father will continue to keep that arm around my shoulder and pick me up when I can't go on alone. 

Footprints in the Sand

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.

Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.

Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,

other times there were one set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed

that during the low periods of my life,

when I was suffering from

anguish, sorrow or defeat,

I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord,

"You promised me Lord,

that if I followed you,

you would walk with me always.

But I have noticed that during

the most trying periods of my life

there have only been one

set of footprints in the sand.

Why, when I needed you most,

you have not been there for me?"

The Lord replied,

"The times when you have

seen only one set of footprints,

is when I carried you."

Mary Stevenson