Madison celebrated Independence Day today. (Something about the fireworks being $100,000 cheaper to do them a week before 4th of July.) Luckily, from Sam's 6th floor hospital room, we were able to see over the parking garage and across town to a view of the illuminated Capitol building and the entire fireworks display. Sitting next to each other on Sam's bed looking out the window, we remembered buggy, muggy fireworks shows of summers past. For me, on the hill at Aquila Park with a picnic blanket and dewey grass. I remembered waiting a good 20 seconds between each one and a long few minutes before the grand finale. Sam told similar stories from the Northwoods, except his were set from a boat on Boom Lake or on Grandma and Grandpa Giles' dock at Crescent. As nurses came in and out with nighttime meds, to check Sam's vitals and listen to his lungs, we continued watching and recalling noteworthy Independence Day celebrations. Madison's fireworks were amazing, even from all the way across town. This year will be the year we watched fireworks from Sam's hospital room. Hopefully soon, we'll look back on this cooped up, stressed out period of our lives, and sigh with relief that it's over. But for now, this hospital has become temporary home. We've gotten to know the array of nurses, nurse assistants and HUCs. We've made a routine and settled in with high hopes that if done right, we'll be out of here and moving on with life as soon as humanly possible - literally. Sam is three days out from all of his chemo now. Since the effects are cumulative, his blood counts will continue to drop over the next week or so. The ones we're watching closely now are the those that fight infections and clot the blood. Since these types of cell counts are so low, it's very important that he does not get any sort of infection, virus, or injury of any kind over the next couple of weeks. This tall task of course necessitates all kinds of rules about cleaning foods really well (basically not eating raw foods from outside the hospital kitchen), not being around anyone with any type of sickness, wearing a mask anytime he's not in his room, and lots of hand washing. Early this coming week, he'll get another bone marrow biopsy to see if his body has responded well to the chemo, and we'll all hope that all the cancer cells are gone. Even though that's still a number of days away (plus a couple more for the results to come back), our brains are starting to linger over what those answers might be. Last time around, Sam's doctors thought he may be an early responder to the treatment. Unfortunately that turned out to be wrong, which is why he ended up requiring the long, 2-year course of chemo. So this time we're obviously hoping all went as planned, this chemo worked and we can move forward from here according to the original, shortest plan. Aside from some headaches, indigestion, nausea, fatigue and a few rashes, he is doing incredibly well. He is still Sam. He never complains, which is amazing. Being an extremely active person, I think spending so much time in this hospital room is getting to him more than anything else. I am lucky and get to leave once a day to exercise, shower, breathe some fresh air, and make my way back. It's great to get a break, but my mind is inevitably sitting with Sam in Room 636 the whole time. Regardless, we were both able to do some work this week, watch movies in the evenings, go for short walks, and (thanks to Sam's family's willingness to deliver takeout all the way across town) eat something other than hospital food. Anything that feels normal, even the monotony of work conference calls (no offense to our wonderful and amazing colleagues!) is welcome these days. Anyway, thank you everyone for the continued thoughtful notes and good vibes. And to those who are able and have committed to giving blood! That is so special to see. All of it is so special. Much Love, Sam and Jenny
Judy & Lawrence Heilman
6/28/2015 04:08:53 am
Hey Sam,
Sam Snyder
6/28/2015 04:23:08 am
Oh Sam and Jenny. It feels guilty and wrong to write a comment from a splendid place like Greece. I've thought of you guys everyday and we're sending our love your way. We'll be sending some Greek goodies, goodies allowable in the hospital under those tight restrictions, your way. We love you, miss you, and think of you both constantly.
Pam Noyd
7/10/2015 01:15:04 am
Hi Sam! I just heard about you and wanted you to know I'm thinking of you and sending lots and lots of good/positive energy your way. You've proved you're a fighter before. You take care!! Comments are closed.
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