Good news for ducks and flower beds. It's raining steadily as I type and that's supposed to keep up all day. That makes it a good day to not walk to the clinic, and a good day to compose a blog. Susan and I had been hoping to stroll over to the farmers market this morning, but we gave up on that idea once the skies opened up.
We saw Dr Buadi yesterday. He's the hematologist overseeing my stem-cell transplant. All systems are go for my receiving the chemotherapy Wednesday (melphalan), to be followed Friday by the reintroduction of my stem cells. In the parlance of my Bone Marrow Transplant (BMT) Team, next Friday will be dubbed Day Zero. While Susan and I had been hoping this timetable would not have been so stretched out (six days between the completion of stem cell collection and the chemo treatment), we are grateful for the down time together this weekend.
My sister Alison is slated to arrive late Monday morning (July 25) to tag in as my primary caregiver, allowing Susan to drive back to Duluth that afternoon. She'll have 10 days or so at home to catch up on work at church, to get a break from Mayo coffee, and to convince our dog, Lucyie that she's still loved. She'll then return in time to take back the caregiver baton from my dear friend, Annie, who will be in charge of Laird duty Aug 1-8.
From Day Zero onward my routine will be the same every day. There will be a visit to the clinic so that the BMT Team can get eyes on me to make sure everything is proceeding on course. This is important because I will be immune-suppressed after taking the melphalan, and therefore susceptible to catching random germs and diseases that a normal body could shrug off easily. If there's a complication, my BMT Team wants to be right on top of it.
When I first tried to imagine what the transplant would be like, I pictured a challenge similar to what I went through in Feb and March, recovering from getting knocked flat on my ass by both severe back pain and my body's response to the early cancer treatment. Last winter I wrestled with being bed ridden and learning to walk again. After talking with Elsie Martin though, a friend who went through a stem cell transplant 2-1/2 years ago, also for multiple myeloma (MM), she reported how important it was to her to have the goal of walking at least one flight of stairs every day. I thought, huh? I didn't attempt stairs until returning home after almost seven weeks of hospital and rehab therapy last winter.
But this will be a different deal. I will be attempting to not lose the ground that I have carefully gained since Feb, and that means I need to keep moving. To be sure, it needn't be fast; I just need to keep using my legs, because that will get me home faster. Conveniently, I have one flight of stairs separating my room at Transplant House from the kitchen/dining room, so I may adopt the same post-transplant recovery goal as Elsie did. If I am able to walk to my daily appointments at Mayo (as I have so far), so much the better.
In any event, I'm looking forward to moving on to this next and final stage of the transplant process (in the spirit of, you can't get done until you get started). I have a comfortable setting, a terrific care team, and top-notch medical assistance. Let's get 'er done!
• • •Now back to the amyloids. There was modest (inconclusive) evidence that I may have an incipient problem moving me in the direction of amyloidosis. This is a relatively rare, but serious disease that involves the accumulation of unwanted protein fragments (called fibrils) that the body has trouble disposing of. These fibrils can aggregate and interfere with normal body functions. While this disease can present in a variety of forms, one version compromises the kidneys and heart.
With that possibility in mind (because I need my heart and kidneys to be hitting on all cylinders as I continue my battle with MM), Buadi ordered tests to take a closer look for amyloids. Because they are rare and show up in many forms, they are difficult to diagnose. Nonetheless, it is a measure of my doctor's thoroughness that he's checking anyway.
On the good side, my kidney functions have steadily steadily improved from their dangerous low point when my cancer was first discovered in late January (I was only functioning on 20% capacity at that time and was close to renal failure), and that kind of improvement is contraindicated in the presence of amyloids. So the early evidence is mixed, and I think the best way to see this is my doctor is being prudent. While I don't want there to be any more complications, I want my doctors to be looking in case there are. Who would want it any other way?
• • •It looks like an all-day soaker today in Rochester—a good day to read or go to a movie as I keep building strength for the weeks ahead.