This is the week. My son, David and I will have a training session today (Sunday) regarding the second transplant scheduled for this coming Friday. I was asked months ago if I wanted to receive this transplant. The doctor gave me the numbers or odds of success. It was daunting to say the least. Yes, some patients die from the transplant itself. Others are nearly cured. Most are somewhere in the middle. Without it, life expectancy is around three years.
This transplant makes me feel like a game show participant deciding on which door to open, but a brand new car is not hiding behind any of the doors. Instead, one door is a long term remission (20%), another is probable death within a year(15%), the third door offers a life changing disability, and still another offers life with cancer and further treatment down the road.
Once I receive the stem cells from a 24 year old donor somewhere in Europe, there’s no going back. His stem cells will become a part of my genetic makeup. They will create white blood cells that will hopefully fight the cancer cells. But they may also go to war with my own good cells and do what white blood cells do best, kill the enemy. In this case the enemy is me.
So as the doctor was explaining the odds I certainly wasn’t excited or jumping around with anticipation of winning something that I don’t deserve. I would be a terrible (calm) game show participant. Instead, I gave it a few seconds of thought, then signed several documents, agreeing to go through with it all. It was literally a “life or death” decision but one that was easy to make. I choose life.
Man, Mike...as always, thank you so much for sharing your journey with us. What an amazing era we're in that you're able to take part in such revolutionary medical treatment. Wishing you the best, my friend. Keep after it, as we need to get the Soggy Bottom Boys back together (or some other iteration where you're rocking on the banjo and Lange is wearing overalls while blowing on a whiskey jug).
ReplyDeleteThis was a sober yet hopeful post. This one reminded me of the short story by Frank Stockton, "The Lady or the Tiger," in which a contestant much choose between two doors where behind one is his lover, and the other is a ferocious man eating tiger. The draw back to the story, is it ends before you see which door he chooses....
ReplyDeleteI will pray that your door has the lady behind it!
PS- The marching band said they need mittens to keep practicing in the snow... Lange got some for them in CHUGIAK blue but playing with them changes the sound of the songs a little bit. Can't figure out what the problem is!!
I love you Mike, I have so much admiration for you and Hope and more Love
ReplyDelete