100 days

Every day my feet hit the floor in the morning is a special day. Today is a particularly special day. 

I'm 100 days post-transplant - it seems so long ago that I was getting ready to take that first plunge into radiation and chemo. For those of you wondering, 100 days is the point at which you are (actuarially) out of the woods with respect to the transplant. I believe it also represents statistical drop in procedure-related mortality. Any statisticians in the house, please feel free to correct me. 

The 100 day mark also means I can cut out about 70 percent of medications from my daily regimen. That is an incredible relief, and will be a change that I hope will improve my quality of life.

How am I doing? I'm well. I still have some daily nausea and pain, but it's less than it was, and I'm seeing slow improvement. I have started to grow my hair back, and have the 'peach fuzz' look going. I'm nearly back to my normal weight and haven't been having any trouble with blood pressure. My white blood cell counts are still low, and so I'm supposed to be avoiding those activities which could put me at risk of infection, since I'm still technically immunocompromised. I don't like restrictions, so I try to do as much as possible without getting caught by the fun police. :) 

I'm back at work, though still working from home. I'm excited for the day that the doctor gives me the thumbs up to get back to the office so that  I can be with my crew. Thankfully, management has been incredibly patient with the recovery process.

So where does that leave me? Well, this time last year I was walking dead. I don't mean that figuratively.  By Memorial Day '08, I felt something was really wrong. I had stage IV cancer and was beginning to feel it. Skip ahead one year, 6 chemo sessions, and a stem cell transplant, and I'm well on the mend. I'm back with the people I love, and feel pretty good. I hope to begin exercise in the next month, and want to get back to running - soon. 

What did the transplant buy me?  The docs at MCV give me a 70-75% chance of disease-free survival for the next 5 years. If I had skipped the transplant, my odds were around 40%. While there are no guarantees, I think these are pretty good odds, considering my state coming into this experience. I'll continue to see both the docs here and (less frequently) at MCV. My follow-up regimen will be pretty serious as they'll want to catch any recurrence early. My understanding is that most cancer recurrence usually happens within the first two years or so, but after 5 years, you can breathe easy.  

And the blog? Well, I won't be updating so frequently unless something comes up. I would like to put this chapter of my life in the rear view mirror. Rest assured, whether I am cured or not, this 

experience will remain with me for some time to come.

To close this edition of the blog, I want to say 'thank you' to everyone. Without calling out names, and with the reader's pardon for any omissions and the maudlin nature of this post, I want to say 'thanks' to the many people who helped me survive.

Thank you: 

to the nurses - there's a special place in heaven for you, to the doctors, the lab techs, and the 

administrative folks - you were all great; I barely knew I was in the hospital - it felt more like a resort - with needles ;)  

to the people who develop the medicines that saved my life and the people who help them;

to my wife, Jane, I love you - you are more special to me than anyone I have ever known - you are incredible;

to my father, thank you for having the patience and strength to perform the incredibly difficult task of watching over me. You are a good man, and I pray that I never have to find the kind of courage to be a father who sees a child through a disease like this. Even so, I enjoyed our walks and time together more than I can tell you;

to mom, for taking care of the girls and being there when I couldn't be;

to Jeff, for talking, listening, visiting, and playing with my children;

to my family, my uncles, aunts, cousins, Sandy and Michael, and grandma - I'm truly blessed to have such relatives;

to my friends, like family, coordinating help, bringing meals, games (including that cool Wii), cupcakes, brownies with caramel, and food to fatten me up - sending me emails and IMs, visiting me in the hospital, calling me, driving me places, and seeing me off to the hospital - I couldn't ask for better people in my life;

to my neighbors, also friends, thank you for all of the meals, warm hand sewn garments, and hats, for your help, and the cupcakes, and for watching over my family while I was away;

to everyone else - those at church, in Florida, in Maryland, and Pennsylvania and from those of you who I don't know, and those of you who prayed - God was listening - he gave me strength when I needed it.

to my co-workers and management - for picking up the slack while I was out, and for being so understanding, I appreciate the help and that you treated me well - I'm lucky to have the employer I do;

to my readers - thanks for listening to my voice, knowing you were out there helped to ease the loneliness.

God bless you all.