January 12, 2008
Last week was not easy for me. I did the bone marrow biopsy/aspiration (the biopsy part is actually taking marrow out to examine, as well as the blood) on Tuesday, and on Friday I had the port put into place on the right side, under the collarbone. The biopsy results came back with nothing but sorry news in that the blood cells are going ever more awry, and the blasts have advanced so that I am now diagnosed as having “Acute Myeloid Leukemia“. I have 25% blasts in the blood, and now we begin the intravenous chemotherapy. The oncologist called in person, something which has not happened before, and since he has been anything but falsely optimistic, he did give us some hope by saying that my blood has held up remarkably well in spite of the problems, and we will do three rounds of chemotherapy in hopes of stopping the disease again, as we did for a time with the Vidaza injections. Now that I have had a year long break from the therapy, the doctor decided to try again with Vidaza because I had good luck with it in the past, but this time it will be easier because it comes in through the blood stream and is given in five days rather than in seven. This application manner wasn’t available when I began in 2006.
( click image to view more clearly )
The port that I have in place is called the PowerPort with a Groshong catheter; it is new and from the materials sent along, the absolute Mercedes of ports. The implantation was “text book” according to the doctor putting it in, and so far, so good, though the body really doesn’t care for such additions. I can feel the tube under the skin that attaches to the jugular vein in the neck as it comes up and over the collarbone. Today was the first time this new port was used, and first, a saline solution was run through. The nurse said that some people get a salty taste in their mouths when this happens – I did not, though I could feel the solution flowing up into my neck. It didn’t hurt, but it felt strange. Then the blood was drawn for the CBC through the new door into my system, and after it was read, the infusion of chemotherapy began. The CBC showed a sizable drop in the red blood count, something that I knew was happening because I have been experiencing shortness of breath and a pounding heart after walking with Alphie at a very sedate speed with my body reacting as though I have run a marathon. After the infusion, the needle is taped into place, and one carries it all glued to the chest throughout the week. This whole adventure is somewhat lacking in earthly delights, but the alternatives are worse, thus making the former more acceptable.
We have yet to visit with the doctor at length about all the implications of this new life, Part II. We have known that the illness has been increasing for some time now, so it is not a surprise, and we have had ample time to practice living in the “now”, enjoying each day as its hours pass rather than running ahead to wring our hands about the future. I am personally praying for another miracle with the hope of doing a tour of gardens either in England or on the East coast in June. Miracles are very addictive and since I have been living one out for some time now, we have good hopes for the possibilities ahead. Thanks be to God!