Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Dare I say...remission?

by: Elizabeth

Pardon my delay in writing about how it went at Mayo last week. The bottom line: really quite well. We learned, according to 2 of 3 tests that measure the presence, or absence, of the mm, I have nearly 'no detectable mm'. The test performed were:


That is amazing. It is cause for whooping celebration. I am so grateful for all the prayers and love that carried us this far.

We will continue with the treatment protocol, because while we cannot measure the mm in my system right now, it is likely there are remaining cancer cells in need of obliterating. We will end chemo treatments in June. At that point I'll travel back to Mayo for the 3rd test that measures for the presence, or absence, of mm in my system: the bone marrow biopsy. Also in June, the Mayo doctors will harvest my own stem cells for use during the bone marrow transplant.

It's at this point that we'll have some decisions to make. It really just comes down to when, not if, I'll have the bone marrow transplant...Will we elect for me to have the transplant this summer, or will we wait for the mm to reappear and have it then?

The team at Mayo evaluated my case and the majority of doctors on that panel suggested I proceed with the transplant this summer. While we're still thinking about it, that's probably the direction we'll go. August in Arizona! While Bryan might have chosen another destination to celebrate his 50th birthday on August 8th, we're delighted that will mean Bryan can celebrate his birthday with his dad too.

After we 'definitively' reach remission, the remaining issue will be: how durable is the remission? On the low side, the remission might last just a couple of years. On the other hand, no one really has any idea how long it will last. When the mm does return, and since there is no cure, we're told it will, we will resume the process we started in January. Our durable remission prayers are already underway!

Thank you so much for all your prayers and good wishes. You have given us untold strength! Thank you also for all the warm loving meals, playdates and errands. I have not written 'thank you notes', like I had intended. (My mother would be disappointed.) Please forgive my less than proper 'thank you'. If I were to thank you each in keeping with our true gratitude, I would need a billboard or a sky-writer.

Hugs!

...

Monday, March 1, 2010

Lapse in Strength-Fear Comes by Surprise

by: Elizabeth

On Wednesday, I head to the Mayo Clinic to touch base with them about the progression of my treatment. As it nears, I've been getting a bit anxious. I thought I was managing my fear well, until today.

Today when I was leaving for my chemo appointment in Truckee, our youngest son, Bryson, who is 5 years old, innocently came into our bedroom crying. He didn't want me to get on the airplane to go to the doctor. He was going to '...miss me too much'.
I explained to him I was only going to the doctor in Truckee and I would be back in time to cuddle him to sleep. He laughed and said, 'ohhhhh'. We hugged and I told him everything would be fine. I would go to the airplane doctor in two days, I would meet Papa (my dad) there, and stay for three nights. I'd be back by bedtime Saturday night; we'd cuddle to sleep again. I reminded him that I'm seeing doctors who know how to make me feel 'all better'. I hope I didn't lie to him.

What broke my heart was the image I was trying to fight off. What if I hear bad news this week from the airplane doctors (Mayo). What if I will someday soon leave broken-hearted little boys and their heart-broken daddy, my Prince Charming, behind much too soon in their precious lives.
I know Bryan, and all that would help him, would do an amazing job. He truly is an amazingly loving father and husband. But their would still be so much pain, loss, anger, feelings of abandonment. I can't bear the thought of it. It simply cannot go that way.
I want to write the right-minded ending to this obvious panic attack, but it's not coming to me yet. I do, however,promise to work on it. Sleep would help, but I'm loaded up on steroids and don't sleep on Monday nights. Extreme fatique, pain and fear are not an ideal formula for right-minded thinking.
Thank you, with all my heart, for being interested enough in our family to listen. Just writing this made me feel so much better. You know, I might even sleep a little tonight.
Hugs.
....