Still Moving Forward.

Just when you thought it was safe to circle a date on your calendar, my dates have changed. We are now planning to start on Friday, March 10. We'll start with the good news: the dates moved based on confirmation with the donor. So we have a donor. They are a full match. They have agreed to donate their stem cells; and they have dates on their calendar for donation. 

The last part is the key, of course. While the actual collection of the stem cells takes place over a day, there is work to do prior to that - a series of shots to stimulate stem cell production. So the fact that we have all that lined up is pretty good news and pretty inspiring, too. That's a word I've heard a few people use in recent weeks. People have commented to me with variations on the theme that I'm inspiring them, simply by how I'm "handling this" or how positive I remain. I do get that people are being kind and compassionate when they offer up these compliments. To be honest, it makes me scratch my head a bit as it feels like I'm doing nothing but waiting.

Sure, I continue to work, to see people (carefully), to be myself. But what's the alternative? Even if I weren't angry at the things that I am missing or will have to miss in 2023; even if there are many times when I look back with nostalgia at how simple life seemed pre-lymphoma;  times when I just wish that this wasn't part of who I am and who I have to be; most of the time, I can find the positives.

I fall back to the great response I had to R-CHOP; to the science that discovered the mutations that would have likely made an auto-SCT a futile effort; to the advances that has made this possible; and to the hope that a successful allo-SCT offers. 

That to me is inspiring. 

Moving Forward

Very quick update to say that we are tentatively planning now for a transplant starting on 2/17 (or 2/18), with the conditioning (aka, chemo) happening for five days and then donor stem cells transplanting on 2/24. Have to go back and do heart and lung tests as well as a PET/CT and bloodwork on 1/30. That's it. 

More info when I have it.  

The Wheels Are In Motion

Around 4 pm last Friday, heading into the New Year's Day weekend, I got a call from my nurse: we have a confirmed fully matched donor. 

That is exciting news, although not surprising, Given that we had identified 65 matches, it seemed like a given that one of them would be confirmed. Still, it's a bit amazing to think that a random stranger, with no vested interest in my health or life, is going to donate their stem cells to me. I'm grateful that so many people are registered donors that the search for a match was as productive as it was. And of course, I'm grateful to this stranger whose stem cells I will hopefully receive in the very near future.

Who is it? Where are they from? When will it all get started? Good questions to which I don't yet have answers. I expect to have them -- or some of them -- this week as the scheduling begins, and so does the reality of the transplant. 

I find my mind oscillating between fear and hope, between dark and light. There's the fear of the known - the risk of infection, relapse, and graft-versus-host disease; the social isolation and the myriad restrictions -- and fear of the unknown - how will I tolerate the chemotherapy conditioning, the actual transplant? What will my daily life be like for those first 100 or so days? What will it be like after it?  

The Shed, after hours of
 assembly, site preparation,
 and a short move across the
 lawn to its final location

It seems a bit trivial but one of the things I fear the most is the stillness, the lack of doing things. The advice I'm getting from many a well-wisher these days is to take time to rest and recover. And I appreciate that, but I do so much better when I'm mentally or physically active. 

This past week, the holidays brought with them some time off work. Not only did I get to celebrate with my family, but I also got to tackle a few projects  - including the building and siting  of a new shed in our backyard. It took many hours of assembly, of trips to Lowe's to prep and level the site where it sits. And  then today I spent a good chunk of time cleaning out the garage to take advantage of said new shed. Not exactly a day of fun, but accomplishing something, being productive fills me up. On top of it, I even got in a short pain-free run that was a lot closer to my normal pace. It was a very good day.  

The moon tonight,
shining through the clouds

In all the talk of the war on cancer, the battle between darkness versus light feels like an almost unforgotten fight. Darkness, with its fear and anxiety, can be a powerful force -- strong enough to obscure all the light. But the light has power too. It illuminates hope - hope of better days ahead, of a future without cancer. Hope of more days like today.