T+8 A better day is coming.

BOX SCORE
Element	Current	Std. Range	Trend
Hemoglobin	8.6	13-17	v
Platelets	10	140-375	v
ANC	MIA	1800-8300	v

When I was about five or six, my dad, who was a private pilot and had grown up building model airplanes before there were model airplane kits, used to take me and my brother to Vic's Hobby Shop in the Hollywood District of Portland. To me the place was like a wonderland. So many model airplanes hanging from the ceiling in such a way as to suggest an aerial dog fight, highly detailed model ships sitting on shelves; I could imagine myself as John Wayne in "Flying Leathernecks,"  or Jeff Chandler in "Away All Boats." It was like a turbocharger for the imagination. 

At that time, the Korean War was raging, and we would sometimes go to the movies and see war pictures or at least a Newsreel recounting the exploits of U.S. fighter jets. My favorite jet was the F9F-6 Cougar, a Navy fighter often launched from aircraft carriers.

One day we walked into Vic's, and there it was, my Navy blue fantasy; a perfect replica of that most beautiful of aircraft. It was on a shelf, just out of reach, which was a good thing, because if I could have got my hands on it, I don't think I would ever have been persuaded to let go. I begged my dad to buy it for me, but he said some nonsense about its being too expensive and went on looking at whatever he was interested in. I kept staring at it and lost myself in a fantasy world of movie scenes and Navy blue airplanes. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my dad heading for the door. Oh, no! We can't go yet. I followed him begging and begging, until I looked up and saw that it wasn't my dad at all, but some other man. My older brother got a good laugh out of that. By then my embarrassment outstripped my avarice, and I was glad that my brother and my dad were ready to leave. 

After I got over the embarrassment on the way home, I couldn't stop thinking about that Cougar jet. I was really disappointed. 

Not too long after that day, I came down with the measles. Nobody got vaccinated for measles in those days, you just got them and created your own immunity. I was a pretty sick puppy. One day, my dad came home from work and came into my sickroom to see how I was doing. As he often did, when presenting me and my brother with something we had lost or had been wishing for, he said, "Hold out your hands and close your eyes, and I'll give you something to make you wise." 

I obediently closed my eyes and held my hands out in front of me. And then I felt something lying in my hands. Dad told me to go ahead and open my eyes, and Lo and Behold! There was my Navy blue fantasy, a model of the F9F-6 Cougar jet,  right in my hands. Not the construction kit that I had hoped dad would buy me that day at Vic's, but a fully assembled model, complete with all the official decals in place. It was perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect!! I think that model plane may even have helped me get well a bit sooner, I was so happy. 

In my last post I wrote about the panic of suddenly being faced with early discharge from the hospital. That was both a thrilling prospect and a bit of a nightmare. Hospital discharge day is always exciting, a step back toward normalcy. But Jill had some cleaning and prep work to do before the apartment would be ready for a highly immunocompromised husband to take up residence. Still we were both excited about the good news. 

This morning was discharge day. I awoke to the night nurse telling me that I needed a platelet transfusion. Oh, well, I've had those before. They go faster than red blood cells, and it is not uncommon to need them after chemo. In fact, I had been surprised that I didn't need them sooner. While the nurse was setting up the IV, I looked up my lab results from the midnight blood draw. Hemoglobin is at 8.6, low but tolerable. It'll come back. Platelets are at 10; so that explains the transfusion. ANC is at...what's this? No reading for ANC? The note said when white blood cell count is this low, it is impossible to differentiate the types of cells from one another. In other words, my ANC was MIA!! How can this be? Things were looking so good. 

At that point, I remembered that Dr. Maziarz had said yesterday that the unusually early rise of my ANC to 800 might indicate that some lingering clump of my own marrow cells may be producing neutrophils and that they would bridge the gap between my old and new immune systems. I was disappointed, but it's not the first time in this journey with AML.

When the team showed up later this morning. Dr. Maziarz said he was sorry that I can't go home today, but apparently that bridge of cells didn't hold up. And this is not a sign that things are going badly. In fact, he said, after evaluating my clinical progress, everything is perfect. I told him I like perfect. And I like to be a boring patient. So, being perfect and boring suits me fine. He replied, "P and B. Like PBJ...Perfect, Boring and... Joy!" 

Am I disappointed? Yes. Am I surprised? No. If I know the Lord, He has something better in mind than my going home from the hospital a week early. Sometimes it's best to wait for the fully assembled model with all the official decals and everything. 

 Isaiah 40:31 But those who wait on the Lord Shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles... (or even a Cougar jet!!)