With no medical drama to report, the raison d'etre for this blog falls apart. There are just so many posts you can write about preventative meds, relapse anxiety, blood counts. The only things that remind me I had a transplant eight months ago are the 5 pills I take each day, my continued avoidance of public places, and the wildness of my hair. That I have hair is a wonderful thing. That I resemble Harpo Marx is something else.
Life rolls on. Guest season has opened at our house in the woods. Which reminds me. I saw a big fat turkey out back the other morning, eating all my husband's expensive grass seed. Doug came up from NYC for a visit, bearing pansies and champagne. I probably imbibed more alcohol than my doctor would approve, but it was a much-needed celebration. Next weekend, my brother and his wife are coming up from Georgia for a few days. I just got an email confirmation of my friend's flight to Providence in 2 weeks. Karen likes to spot check my progress. She recently signed on with Team in Training to do a Century Ride in my honor. I don't want to jinx myself, but I look forward to a lazy summer with no cancer in it. That would be heaven.
Mariel arrived home last night from her 3-month sojourn in Ecuador. I briefly saw her as she didn't get in until midnight or so. This morning I see a hammock, a tapestry, a llama-wool sweater, and other exotica strewn about. I can't wait to hear about her adventures. She should be up by the crack of noon.
From now on, I'll ramble away at whatever piques my interest. It may not be leukemia related. It may be anything. You are forewarned.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Adirondack Mountains, Feb. 2007
Tale of a Cord Blood Transplantee Who Relapses and Goes on to Have a Matched Unrelated-Donor Transplant
The Weight
Adirondack Mountains, Feb. 2007
ABOUT ME
In March 2006, I was diagnosed with a blood cancer called Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML). Life as I knew it came to a crashing halt. After enduring a month in the hospital where I received intense chemotherapy, I was declared "in remission." I had three additional treatments and remained cancer-free until May 2007, when I relapsed.
My only shot at survival was to have a stem cell transplant. However, my brothers' immune markers didn't match mine, and an international search of bone marrow registries found no perfect matches. A transplant using the blood from two umbilical cords was recommended. I grasped at this straw in September 2007. It seemed to work.
This blog tells the story of my transplant and recovery, replete with outrageous slings and arrows. The expression "blood is thicker than water" has new meaning for me. I remained alive due to the blood of strangers, two of them, both male. Thanks guys.
The plot thickened when I relapsed 19 months into my new remission and had to go through the same rigamarole once more. This time, I received stem cells from a matched adult donor who was identified last go round but didn't fit into the necessary time frame. Charles Dickens could have fun with this, the stuff of pulp fiction.
I remain in remission 4 years later. My donor keeps leukemic cells in check but finds interesting ways to attack my body. Chronic graft versus host disease keeps me firmly entrenched in the medical world. And so it goes.
My only shot at survival was to have a stem cell transplant. However, my brothers' immune markers didn't match mine, and an international search of bone marrow registries found no perfect matches. A transplant using the blood from two umbilical cords was recommended. I grasped at this straw in September 2007. It seemed to work.
This blog tells the story of my transplant and recovery, replete with outrageous slings and arrows. The expression "blood is thicker than water" has new meaning for me. I remained alive due to the blood of strangers, two of them, both male. Thanks guys.
The plot thickened when I relapsed 19 months into my new remission and had to go through the same rigamarole once more. This time, I received stem cells from a matched adult donor who was identified last go round but didn't fit into the necessary time frame. Charles Dickens could have fun with this, the stuff of pulp fiction.
I remain in remission 4 years later. My donor keeps leukemic cells in check but finds interesting ways to attack my body. Chronic graft versus host disease keeps me firmly entrenched in the medical world. And so it goes.
No comments:
Post a Comment