The roller coaster always lands on the ground

It was a surreal phone call this morning, as I lay in my Swedish Hospital bed for the 11th consecutive day. The cancer center wanted to schedule an appointment for tomorrow and a follow-up on Friday. Apparently, they knew more than I did. 

Soon after, oncologist Florencia Benton cleared things up with the great news that I would get to go home today!

This, after a thoroughly frustrating day on Monday when we had to wait for someone to draw my blood for lab tests. Normally, technicians I like to call  the vampires sneak in during the wee hours of the morning and steal away with a few milliliters of my essence. Then lab folks do their job to give the doctors information for rounds at 10 am. 

Yesterday there was ONE person available to draw blood in the ENTIRE hospital. She got to me about 3pm, a little late to be making decisions about discharge.

I just have to wonder what is wrong with our country that a hospital cannot find the staff it needs to carry out its job. Do people just not want to work at 3 in the morning? Or are businesses (and hospitals are, in the end, businesses) cutting staff to improve the bottom line? 

It's a mystery I can't solve, but hope that there's enough staff and resources -- in the facilities and in my own body --to continue on the journey to transplant.

Hot stuff

 Fever is such a strange phenomenon. You feel like your body's on fire, then can't get warm. Chills can wrack the body for hours but overcompensating can put you back into the fever zone. 

Usually fever is the body's  response to infection, the body's soldiers sent to do battle with invaders.

 But chemo pretty much wipes out those defenses, leaving one vulnerable to, well, everything. So doctors step in to help the process by identifying the invader and sending targeted medicines to wage war. Thus, the 5- or 10-day course of antibiotics most of us have taken at times throughout our lives.

The problem is determining which flavor of bad guy is attacking. There must be hundreds, and each responds a little differently to specific drugs. Though I'm sure it's much more scientific, it feels a bit like looking for a needle in a haystack, or spinning a roulette wheel.

Or maybe there is no bad guy. Neutropenic fever occurs approximately 60% of the time when chemo has wiped out the immune system. So what fights the fever when there are no "soldiers?" Fresh recruits, of course.

But before the white blood cells  and neutrophils can regroup, frequent and high fevers make life pretty miserable. I'd been told 24 hours without fever would be a landmark, but time after time, I'd get only 12, 18, or then 20. So discouraging!

About this point, I got frustrated with the "telephone tag" between St. Anthony's Hospital and my oncologist from Swedish Medical Center, Dr. Chris Benton. A little hissy fit got me the transfer I wanted.

Talented at breaking down the complexity of medicine, Benton put a lot in perspective with this illustration on my room whiteboard last weekend. Early on, there is only fever, but as the body's defenses build enough to fight, the intensity and frequency of fevers slowly dwindle.

 For the first time in two weeks, I have hope there might be an end to this carousel of discomfort. Though the infectious-disease docs still want to be absolutely sure there is no infection. I'm pretty sure I've reached the final bump in the road.

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You folks rock!

Thoughts and prayers have been mocked ineffective platitudes, and for someone losing a loved one to random violence they are but often all we have.

As I've written before, my journey with leukemia has definitely been smoothed by the amazing outpouring of support from all sides. When I thought the next hurdle was just finding a domor, I posted my hope for that.

But after 8 days of fever and chills without a seeming end, a new priority popped up and I hesitated to ask for more help.. As newspeople know, after 5 days, the news and fish need to be thrown out.

OK CHunt (HS journalism teacher}: I'm burying the lead again.

The exciting news, which I am attributing to your T&P, is that 4 people are willing to donate bone marrow cells.

I just have to get better.

The other shoe

 Given my relative breeze through Leukland, I suppose I should have expected it might not all be clear sailing, or maybe paid attention when the nurse practitioner told me 90 percent of people in remission end up back in the hospital with an infection.

So here I am, and that's why I have not updated in a while. It really knocked me for a loop. Chills and fevers alternating throughout the day. And the docs are still not sure what's causing it. Through MRI and CT, I have had every part of me scrutinized. Sometimes that is more than you want to know...

The oncologist says sometimes it's just the body reacting to having no immune system,. So, while I wait for my parts to kick into gear, I'll share how great these women are.

M and C were my roommates and coworkers, spreading news in suburban San Antonio, the first professional job for most of us. Needless to say, we bonded big time. I don't remember who moved up first to the big -city San Antonio Express-News but she brought us along in time, and we added another 20-something single woman to our crew. Boy, we had some wild times, and I think that is where I learned to love cooking.

We did not attempt any of that (doctor's orders for me) this weekend, but I did want to offer the bounty of  our state. Olathe corn and Palisade peaches just had to be consumed. Unfortunately those and some other menu items were the very foods M was not to eat, she now knows.

Teaching Mah Jong to the group became exceeding difficult, as the sounds of distress intensified. Concern about my fragile system prompted me to jump ship, or in this case, wheedle a ride down the mountain to home. M needed a thermometer anyway.

The short-term rental the ladies found was a great place, with awesome views and very challenging access (More than one of the flatlanders--Texas and Virginia--commented, I can't even imagine driving this in the rain. I didn't dare correct them for at 3 am M was in serious enough shape to warrant a doctor and whatever lurked on the road. I'm not sure it would have had a chance against these ladies, though.

Of course we were sad to have not completed our long-lost adventure, but had a good time and are making plan for the next one: Within 20 miles of hospital? On call nurse? Thtt's traveling while elderly, I guess.

Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match

The waiting game continues, toward a new goal: the only cure to this nefarious condition, stem cell transplant.

Many things need to line up just right for this to happen, but the team at Colorado Blood Cancer Institute seems to have worked that magic many times with great success.

First, I need to be in remission, which I am and hope to continue to be while this plays out.

Most importantly, though, is a donor, some selfless individual of Northern European lineage who will need to take several hours to give me my life back. The initial screen showed 30  potential matches, so I am hopeful.

From there, it is another hospital stay of 3-4 weeks, then a very compromised immune system that will require me to stay within 20 miles of the hospital for 90 days. (unfortunately, we live 28 miles away). 

There's no telling when this will commence, but it looks like I won't be doing much leaf peeping or early-season skiing this year. I may miss our first elk rutting, which I am told is a sight (and sound) to behold. And depending on the timing, the holidays may look very different this year.

But if it gets rid of those nasty cancer cells lurking in the my body, it'll be a small price.