Die cancer die!

I've been in a holding pattern, waiting for a bone marrow transplant since early July (when we found out that there were cancer cells in my spinal fluid). After some intensive chemotherapy in July and August, those stubborn cells were still showing up, though thankfully they haven't formed any tumors. So I began ten rounds of cranial/spinal radiation in early September with the expectation that they would be wiped out and I could continue on to transplant.

After 9 of the rounds, my team did a spinal tap to get a sample of my spinal fluid and ran flow cytometry on it to check for cancer cells. The bad news is that they are still showing up. My doctor gave us the choice to continue with the transplant anyway, with a much diminished chance of curing the lymphoma, or going home and letting nature run its course.

Last week's news hit hard. We stayed up all Thursday night crying together and feeling sorry for ourselves. Friday was better. The doctors at the clinic hold a weekly meeting where they discuss the cases of various transplant patients. They unanimously agreed that if I wanted to fight, we should start the transplant right away. A low chance for success is better than none at all!

There is still hope, otherwise they wouldn't perform the transplant on me. There is a chance that the cells that they found after the radiation are dead and just hadn't been flushed out of my system yet. That makes sense to me. It just doesn't seem reasonable that they would already be resistant to radiation, when I hadn't had any before (besides the small amount of stuff we're all exposed to in the Tri-Citites, ha ha).

And I don't feel like it's my time to go. I know that we're all going to die someday, and that if the Lord wants me to go home, there's not much I can do about it. But I don't feel like that is His will for me. Christina and I both feel that somehow this is going to all work out and that I'll be able to come home
and be with my family as my kids grow up.

Both of our families held a fast for me today and our ward held a fast for our family. We were able to come home for the weekend, spend time with our children and Christina's family, and attend church at our home ward. I can't tell you how rejuvenated I feel. I am so very thankful for everyone's love and prayers. I can't tell you what it means to me, but I can tell you that they are a source of hope and strength for Christina and I right now.

I'm going in tomorrow for three days of whole body radiation. This will wipe out my bone marrow and destroy my immune system. On Wednesday, the clinic will collect stem cells from the blood of my youngest brother, Jarom. On Thursday, those cells will be circulated into my blood and will become my new immune system. I'll need to get all of my shots over again, just like a newborn. I'll be in the hospital for about 30 days, less if I do amazingly well. Then I'll spend another two months here in Seattle being monitored closely. We're hoping to be home around Christmas.

Purgatory is a really long line

Imagine waiting in a very long line.  From the beginning, you can't really see the end, but you know it's up around the corner somewhere.  Finally, you get near the end, only to be told you need to get out of line and go to a new line.  What's special about the new line is that no one knows how long it is.  

And the worst of it all is this isn't a line for Splash Mountain or Grizzly River Rapids.  It's a line for a medical procedure that will probably save your life, but will make you feel sick for at least a month and has at least a potential for death.

In the middle of July, the doctors found some cancer cells in my CSF (cerebral spinal fluid) during one of the many spinal taps (thirteen, to be precise) that I've had the opportunity to participate in.  Because my future transplanted immune system won't be interacting with my spinal fluid, it is imperative that we clear the fluid of cancer cells before the transplant.  Otherwise, I could wind up with clean lymph nodes, but a tumor growing in my brain.

On July 26 I began a new regimen of chemotherapy in an attempt to clean out my CSF.  After almost a month, progress was mostly sideways.  After some initial reluctance, we decided to try irradiation my brain and spinal column.  I was nervous about it because I'd heard that it could be pretty traumatic to my brain and (understatement here) I'd like to avoid that if possible.  

So we've been waiting for awhile for good news and it finally came to us with some good test results last thursday.  My CSF was markedly clearer.  In fact, they detected no cancer cells in the initial report and only about 1% (vs a previous high of about 20%) in the more sophisticated flow cytometry report.

I'm four treatments into my ten-treatment radiation regimen and my doctors are scheduling me back in for the stem cell transplants.  My brother Jarom is scheduled to come up next week and I'll receive another Spinal tap on the 10th.  My doctors seem confident that it will come back clear and that we'll be able to proceed with the transplant the following week, around September 18.  

I'll spend thirty days in the hospital, then I'll be released to our temporary housing facility here in Seattle where they'll continue to monitor me for another 2 months.  If all goes really well, there's a chance I could be home for Christmas.

I know there could be some rough road ahead, but at least I'm moving forward again!