Day 2 - Chemo #2

Happy Father's Day, first of all, to all you Dad's out there.

I went to visit my Dad today and he looked really good considering. He had his first dose of chemo last night, really late - which iritated him, with good reason. Today, he was hoping for a better schedule.

Here's the low down in lay man's terms, because that's all I understand.

Dad got started on the antirejection regimen of medication today. It's a 20 hour drip for at least three weeks, I think. The reason it's so arduous is that they want the medication to completely saturate his body to help fight off any signs of rejection.

Tomorrow, Dad will get his dose of radiation.

Tuesday is actually the bone marrow transplant day. I thought all along it was Wednesday, but it's TUESDAY.

The donor specimen will take an hour or so to infuse and while that's going on a doctor and a nurse will be present to monitor Dad's vitals, reactions, and any complications. They expect none. The literature they gave my parents said the day is usually very easy physically, but high in emotional stress and anxiety. Dad is already having some of this, so any cards, good thoughts, a call, a visit - are very welcome.

The literature said that some people have their entire families present while the infusion is taking place. I don't think that is something Dad wants. Some people view this as a complete "re-birth" and one person on Dad's floor even has a birth announcement on the door and the final line is "Eyes Shining Bright With Hope".

There is a very high possibility of complications such as infection, pneumonia, rejection, host-donor disease, and a book full of others. Mom is trying to prepare herself, but I really don't think you can.

We're all a little (okay, a lot) on edge about this because so much weighs on this being a success. It's also just weird to have someone else's parts going into you while you're awake. Usually organ transplants aren't something you watch go into your chest through ports sticking out of your neck. I hope I can be present, but they don't know what time they're doing everything yet. If I find out, I will let everyone know so you can set your watch or something and say a prayer during that hour.

The fact that someone a half a world away is preparing to donate a potentially life changing and saving part of themselves to a complete stranger (my Dad) blows my mind and in so many ways restores my faith in humanity.

Dad's numbers - okay, he left the hospital a couple weeks ago with a WBC count of nothing, then it went up to a 4. Then it doubled earlier last week to 8 and then 12 on Thursday. Today it was 21.6. All of those increasing segments are not good signs. It means for sure the leukemia is advancing, so this transplant is more than ever, not only good timing, but essential.

Light a candle, say a prayer for my family. This is going to be a tough week and a hard month to follow. We are so humbled by your support, prayers, and well wishes. Thank you so much.