Curtains drawn, I have been sitting in the dark of Sam's room getting some work done while he naps in between the usual nurse/doc traffic this morning. A very, very familiar scene. Through answering emails, my mind is racing somewhat with everything on deck this week in terms of treatment, so I thought maybe writing it all out would help me process and try to let it go and get on with my day.
So here it is: Monday: Today at 2pm PT, Sam will undergo a bone marrow biopsy where they drill into his hip bone and take a sample of the marrow to study it. The bone marrow is where blood cells and leukemia are born, so studying the bone marrow will tell us far sooner than a standard blood draw could if the last round of chemotherapy + that clinical trial drug were successful in getting Sam back into remission. Technically, remission is less than 5% blasts, but ideally he will have 0%. That's what the transplant doctors would prefer to see for him to move him forward with the bone marrow transplant. Since the biopsy procedure is sedated, he'll be pretty out of it for the rest of the day today and already told me to force him to walk for a few laps around the unit so as not to get too stiff and sore even though he won't want to. As soon as he's awake again, the anxious waiting for results with immense implications begins, and if I'm honest, the nerves will just steadily rise from this afternoon until we have results on Wednesday. Tuesday: Anxiety day #2. Sam's friend from high school is coming to visit and I have to leave Seattle for a presentation for work in the evening. So Phil gets to sub in for "operation distraction" at the hospital in the evening while I'm out for a few hours. Luckily, they are both story tellers at heart, and once sat in our garage talking until 5 in the morning because the garage door was closed and they couldn't tell how dark/early it had gotten. I'm so glad he's coming. Sometimes biopsy results come back within 24 hours, but I'll probably tell Sam's PA-C not to give him any results while I'm gone tomorrow evening, even if they're good. This way, if they're bad, I'll be sure to be there for him AND Sam will know that I've told her so he won't assume they're bad when she doesn't come. Plus, the results don't matter until the conference of attendings on Wednesday. Wednesday: A team of the attending transplant doctors will meet and discuss Sam on Wednesday at 10am. Our PA-C, Whitney, described that she'd present Sam's case and biopsy results, and then let "30 brilliant minds talk about it and duke it out." She said it's her favorite meeting of the week because it sometimes gets pretty heated with doctors arguing about enormously important treatment decisions. Whitney said she'd bring popcorn, and I told her I'd plan to picket the meeting and call Dr. Percival (aka Dr. Nobody-Is-Giving-Up-Here) and tell her to bring her boxing gloves. Kidding-not-kidding. There are a few ways this could go:
So, in summary, in between another "normal" work week, we'll be dealing with some life or death shit in terms of Sam's treatment and continuing to cope the only way we know how: by checking in with old/dear friends, through deep, intentional breathing and through being there for each other however and as much as we can.
Jen Carroll
3/13/2017 12:38:43 pm
Jenny and Sam,
Bev Mangerson
3/13/2017 04:53:42 pm
Thinking of you as always. ❤
Nanci
3/13/2017 05:33:16 pm
Prayers for the best of answers and strength for you both.
Michael Moser
3/14/2017 12:57:07 pm
I pray for Sam every morning that he will be able to receive the bone marrow transplant and be cured.
Cindy M
3/15/2017 07:25:38 pm
Dear Jen and Sam, Comments are closed.
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