How can I be so sure? What’s to keep me taking the stairway
to the morbidity train and finding I’m not going to win this? Well, none of us wants to go down those
tracks, but it’s possible, isn’t it? How do you make lemonade out of that
bitter brew? At this point, I honestly
don’t have a good answer. I just know that regardless of what happens, it’ll be
OK. I should be direct in saying, too, that I’m not one of these people who simply
take stock in a scripture says thus-and-such about “all things working together
for good.” In my case, I’ve just lived enough to know that on the other side of
awful circumstances reside life lessons that make you uniquely qualified to be
there for someone else. For those that
take solace in holy writ, I know that being a leukemia patient would present an
opportunity to walk that out along with a number of others and I commend them
for their courage to put their own particular faith to the test. I will simply
say that for me, walking through a set of life-altering situations totally
change the way you look at things…if you let it happen. I think it’s fair to
say that for both sets of people—those who subscribe to a particular faith and
those of us who do not—should expect to see things radically different on the
other side of a challenge like this.
As I said right off the get-go, I don’t want to come across
as casual about an acute leukemia diagnosis because it’s anything but. Thankfully, in my case, it was caught early
and I’m in pretty decent physical condition despite the obvious. I will say, too, that I have an incredible
support network that has helped me to rest where I would otherwise be frantic
about the practical details, especially since I’m an eminently practical kind
of guy!
Yesterday, in fact, I started to feel the physical effects
of what this is all about and I ended up having a transfusion of two units of
blood to keep me from sparkling like the Twilight
vampires. I felt kind of…ick. I don’t
know how else to put it, but just feeling less than good. Ironically, this is the level I’d consider
thinking going home from work might be a good idea…might be a good idea. Just pop a couple of aspirin and plug away
like I always do. “It’s all good.”
But it’s not all good.
It’s actually pretty bad of course, but because I’m writing this from a
hospital bed, you know that already. My white blood count is way down to
practically nothing and my immune system is compromised to be susceptible
pretty much to anything in my own body like all the bacteria in my gut and on
my skin and anywhere else that it is usually taken care of by this army of
white blood cells – the neutrophils. The
basic layman’s explanation is simply that the chemo has been killing them off
along with the leukemia cells so that my immune system can re-boot. Based on another test that is brewing, we’ll
know whether a bone marrow transplant is in the offing. If that happens, there’s another round of
things that would happen in Seattle and it could take a little while. This is no quick process, and while it’s not
all good, it’ll be OK.
No, if I end up going to Seattle, it’s going to be rather
long and drawn out and while I’ll have help, it’s not home and it’s going to be
arduous and painful, but it’ll work out OK. I’m saying that now, not really knowing
the full import of that. I’ve had two survivors (fellow veterans) who have
returned from their time in Seattle and their stories are similar and while it’s
not all good, it’ll be OK. I’ll be OK. I
keep reminding myself that, yes, I’ll be OK and that all the things that I have
to live and fight for will be there waiting for me and that, yes, I’ll be OK.
Yeah, it’s scary. It’s uncomfortable. It’s tiring. It’s
painful. It’s awkward. It’s all those things, but it’ll be OK even if it’s not
good, bro’.
