There are two ladies who handle appointments at the Marrow
Transplant Unit (MTU). They are amazingly efficient at directing traffic, they
are calm under pressure, and they even remember my preferred name instead of simply
referring to me as Mr. Park. I watch the
two of them and am amazed at their perpetual smiles and how efficiently they
keep things moving. Considering the sensitivity of the work on the ward and
that there are double the people (patients and caregivers) who are constantly
coming and going, it’s actually rather noisy and even confusing, but these two
ladies are cool customers!
After I left the hospital Friday afternoon, I got a call
from one of these ladies. She told me that on Monday morning, I would be
meeting with the doctors to determine my course of treatment – the next part of
the plan. I was left with the impression based on the transplant date that I
wouldn’t likely be seeing them until some time around the 12th even
though they would be probably meeting on Wednesday to discuss my case. My gut
feeling from what I’ve been hearing is that I’ll be undergoing a standard
myeloablative transplant rather than the “mini” (non-myeloablative). Because of
my good physical condition and age, I’ve been told I can tolerate the rigors of
this procedure. If this happens, I’ll be admitted on August 14 and begin a
course of busulfin and cytoxan, two very powerful chemicals to decimate my
immune system so that the transplanted stem cells will engraft when infused a
week later. There are apparently fewer
complications for this procedure than the mini and it will put me on the road
to recovery and subsequently home sooner, provided that everything works out
well. The other plus – and it’s a big plus in my mind – is that I would not be undergoing total body
irradiation. Like I posted yesterday, there are plusses and minuses to both
procedures and the big minus to the standard transplant is that it will make me
a whole lot sicker than the mini and I’ll be inpatient for about 3-4 weeks.
I met with the
transplant coordinator on Friday as well and she advised me that my
correspondence with my donor wouldn’t be possible for two years. There are some
very strict privacy regulations with respect to donor privacy and my
correspondence has to be very generic and can’t even include anything that
would indicate the country in which I am living! That leaves things pretty
broad, reminding me of the kind of letter a third grader writes to the fireman
who visits the class for a super show-and-tell. While I understand
confidentiality, HIPAA, and privacy, I have a profound sense of gratitude that
generic greetings cannot possibly convey. I’m inclined to believe my donor came
from out of the country as the waiting period is two years instead of one, the
usual period for domestic donations. When the prospect of a transplant became a
necessity back at the beginning of this odyssey, there was some discussion
about Germany having a very robust bone marrow donor program. At the time, I
joked about coming through the process with a German accent à la Hans and Franz from Saturday Night Live. All I do know as a
matter of fact at this point is that my donor is male. Even though I am genuinely grateful, I tend
toward the irreverent (yes, it’s true) and I am inclined to believe my donor is
foreign, so I am referring to my donor as Hans from this point forward. He has
to have a name after all and I obviously have Northern European genetics. I do
hope that I get to meet him face-to-face at some point. I’d very much like to
extend my gratitude to him in person. Perhaps by zen, I’ll be talkin vis a
German accent and very muscular – ve vant
to pump you up!
Hans and Franz from SNL ... pumping me up with stem cells! |
One part of the plan at a time.
In the meantime, I’ve continued to terrorize Seattle as a
tourist. The people I’ve met have been wonderful, all great ambassadors of the
city. On the road, I’m less inclined to speak in glowing terms and that extends
to the parking lot. So, today, instead of playing the alphabet game as I did
during the last road trip I took with my sons, my ‘game’ was to spot the most
egregious parking job. We came across three pretty good examples in short order.
Being a tourist has been both bad and good.
Suffice it to say, anything to move me closer toward returning to life
as I knew it, or at least as close to it as I can get, is movement forward. On
the other hand, I’m facing some unpleasantness over the next few months, some
of which will make me feel pretty durned sick. My sleep schedule will return to
the erratic inpatient routine and I’ll get intimate with white-coated folks who
are interested in how regular I am. This time, my middle-of-the-night
conversations inside my head about mortality will have more gravitas, even
though I have no intention of going down that path.
And yet…
There is much to be grateful for and much to look forward to
and much to live for, even if it looks different than I had thought it would.
It’s all part of the plan
Today’s music from Dan Fogelberg, appropriately enough, Part of the Plan
I have these moments
All steady and strong
I'm feeling so holy and humble
The next thing I know
I'm all worried and weak
And I feel myself
Starting to crumble
The meanings get lost
And the teachings get tossed
And you don't know what
You're gonna do next
You wait for the sun
But it never quite comes
Some kind of message
Comes through to you
Some kind of message
Comes through
And it says to you
Love when you can
Cry when you have to
Be who you must
That's a part of the plan
Await your arrival
With simple survival and
One day, we'll all understand
One day, we'll all understand
One day, we'll all understand
I had a woman
Who gave me her soul
But I wasn't ready to take it
Her heart was so fragile
And heavy to hold
And I was afraid
I might break it
Your conscience awakes
And you see your mistakes
And you wish someone
Would buy your confessions
The days miss their mark
And the night gets so dark
And some kind of message
Comes through to you
Some kind of message
Shoots through
And it says to you
Love when you can
Cry when you have to
Be who you must
That's a part of the plan
Await your arrival
With simple survival and
One day, we'll all understand
One day, we'll all understand
One day, we'll all understand
There is no Eden
Or heavenly gates
That you're gonna
Make it to one day
But all of the answers
You seek can be found
In the dreams that
You dream on the way
All steady and strong
I'm feeling so holy and humble
The next thing I know
I'm all worried and weak
And I feel myself
Starting to crumble
The meanings get lost
And the teachings get tossed
And you don't know what
You're gonna do next
You wait for the sun
But it never quite comes
Some kind of message
Comes through to you
Some kind of message
Comes through
And it says to you
Love when you can
Cry when you have to
Be who you must
That's a part of the plan
Await your arrival
With simple survival and
One day, we'll all understand
One day, we'll all understand
One day, we'll all understand
I had a woman
Who gave me her soul
But I wasn't ready to take it
Her heart was so fragile
And heavy to hold
And I was afraid
I might break it
Your conscience awakes
And you see your mistakes
And you wish someone
Would buy your confessions
The days miss their mark
And the night gets so dark
And some kind of message
Comes through to you
Some kind of message
Shoots through
And it says to you
Love when you can
Cry when you have to
Be who you must
That's a part of the plan
Await your arrival
With simple survival and
One day, we'll all understand
One day, we'll all understand
One day, we'll all understand
There is no Eden
Or heavenly gates
That you're gonna
Make it to one day
But all of the answers
You seek can be found
In the dreams that
You dream on the way
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