Dear Friends and Family,
Today was a great day.
Nancy feels good. She no longer has a fever, and is, for her, full of energy after receiving transfusions of red blood cells and platelets. For the first time in days, we ventured down the eighth-floor hall and were “outside” our room for nearly an hour before lunch. She devoured everything on her tray and within minutes, was snoring again in a sound, nonrestless slumber. For the entire day, Room 842 was filled with Nancy’s brilliance. My face aches from constant smiling.
Oh, and I’ve saved the best reason for last.
Midafternoon, Dr. Prystas, one of our cancer doctors, made an unexpected visit, sporting a smile as big as a half-moon. “Nancy, we’re seeing the early signs of bone marrow recovery in your blood tests. It won’t be long before you’re able to go home for a few weeks before the next round.”
A “vacation” in Woodland on the not-too-distant horizon?
OMG!
So Nancy and I are doing great. Which means it is probably a good time to catch up on everyone else.
In addition to the frequent questions of “How is Jaret doing?” and “Anything I can do to help Jaret?” A few of you have asked, “Is Jaret aware of the seriousness of Nancy’s illness?”
(Thank you, by the way, for always asking about Jaret.)
The answer is YES. He has even formed his own unique insight.
After the change in diagnosis nine days ago when I was melancholic, Jaret walked over to my chair and gave me a hug. As usual, his declaration was short and to the point: “I’m still optimistic, Dad. I know Mom could kick the bucket, but I have a good feeling.” Jaret had regrouped for the continued battle well before I had in a moment of self-indulgent self-absorption.
And what about Jayna?
Jayna has just redecorated our hospital “home” for the third time. Also, she and her mom have begun religiously watching reruns of a TV series that gives me pause: Six Feet Under. And it’s all I need to hear for me to go to the cafeteria or take a quick bike ride.
So at this point, I believe, the kids are fine. They are certainly a huge comfort, not only to Nancy but to me as well.
The final question I want to address tonight also originates from a large number of you.
“Nancy’s in remission?” is a question I’ve heard countless times. The emphasis is always on the word “remission” and the higher pitch assigned to that last word seems to me to convey an element of doubt. I suspect Nancy’s plight has led to the confusion.
For most of us, remission paints a pretty picture: Nancy feeling great, going home, being “normal”—even if it is recognized that a remission may not last forever.
Allow me to clarify.
CR, or complete remission in the world of leukemia, means the cancer cells have disappeared. Indeed, as many of you know, last week Nancy once again had a large bore needle jammed into her hipbone to perform the bone marrow test, the one that looks at the blood-forming tissues of the body. The results were exciting beyond belief. After only a few chemotherapy treatments and in less than two weeks, her bone marrow was “empty.” No leukemic cells were detected—CR. The doctors, nurses, lab technicians, respiratory technicians, as well as the clerks, janitors, and other hospital personnel who know Nancy, all congratulated us on achieving remission. They recognize big news. If she hadn’t achieved CR, the future would be darker than nighttime in a cavern without chambers.
However, chemotherapy is indiscriminate. It is not unusual to call the “chemo” drugs poisons. Though I nicknamed them “assassin” medicines, “poisons” may be more accurate.
When chemotherapy works like it has for Nancy, it is supposed to kill all the leukemic cells in her bone marrow. However, the few normal white cells left perish with the “bad guy” leukemic white cells. The parent cells that create new red blood cells, the cells that transport oxygen through our bloodstream, are also destroyed. The platelets, the particles in charge of bleeding prevention, are additionally demolished by the indiscriminate power of the chemotherapy drugs.
Consequently, even though Nancy is technically in remission, she is nearly as sick as the day she arrived—about three weeks ago today. She is anemic. She is at risk for serious bleeding into one of her vital organs. And even scarier, she has severely impaired immunity and therefore is susceptible to both common and unusual infections.
With her bone marrow wiped out, Nancy feels totally debilitated and extremely weak. She remains in isolation in a special room designated only for immunocompromised patients, awaiting her body’s normal blood-forming capacity to bounce back. She remains alive courtesy of red blood cell transfusions to help her anemia and platelet transfusions to prevent bleeding. What’s more, Nancy is taking a wide variety of antibiotics and antiviral drugs to prevent infection, the biggest worry.
Yes, Nancy is in remission. But she is still very sick.
I hope my explanation makes sense. If not, please ask me specific questions. I’ll try again.
And please know that there are good hours, afternoons, and, even days (like today) when Nancy is posttransfusions and feels better.
We cherish each day as it comes to us.
Summary: Great news! Nancy has achieved CR, or complete remission.
With love,
Winnie