This is not the Pity Plog. I realized something today though that I want to toss out there. I'm not alone in this feeling.
Since getting together with Marty, I've almost always done and gone where he wanted to do and go. I moved to New York. I changed my religion (but not my name). I had children. The children have been the other major factor in why I don't usually make decisions based on what I myself want, but about what my family wants. We have moved due to Marty's job. We have moved to towns where the schools are good. In short, I'm living the suburban nightmare (for me), although only for two more days. Hooray. I've gotten to do some awesome things during this time (live in Costa Rica, travel), but we're talking about a few bones in a 35-year span.
Don't cry for me Costa Rica. This past Sunday, a wish came true for me. I moved into a Manhattan apartment, and while it's a fact that I'm moving to NYC for Marty's job, I'm not living in Brooklyn, which is where Marty and nearly all our friends thought it was the sensible (and cheaper) choice. On Saturday, we pack up this mad existence for a small house in a small town in the Catskill Mountains of New York State. It will be our weekend retreat. The best part about it is that I can walk to town, and all the services I need. No more driving three miles for milk.
The moral of the story is, if there is one, every dog will have its day. This is my day, baby
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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.
3 comments:
Welcome home my dear!
You deserve your moment in the sun.
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