Back on Track
So...I've missed two weekends and am therefore off my feed. The first was attributable to the Asa/Ashley wedding, the second to a lack of centeredness. But here I am back at the coast for vacation and although it is the first morning and I'm hoping to achieve a greater sense of perspective over the coming days, I'm ready to post!
Right now, he shadow of Linda C's disease is taking up a lot of sunlight. Linda, having been diagnosed with leukemia and treated with chemo, was given a choice. With approval, she could opt for a bone marrow transplant with cells from her sister. At Linda's age, this approach is often rejected but since there is a close relative "match", the odds nosed above the line for getting a medical nod. The other option was to stand pat and live a fairly normal life until the cancer returns: with luck, maybe two or three years.
Linda consulted our doctor friend Niki who painted a grim picture of the transplant. It was clear that Niki's choice for herself would be not to have a transplant. After huddling with her family, Linda chose to reject Niki's perspective and try to beat the disease. The first obstacle was her sister whose husband was, himself, dying of cancer. Once the husband had died and a period of mourning had passed, the sister was ready to be a donor. A subtext was that the sister's daughter strongly advised her mom not to do it. Family stuff.
Once the donation was extracted and put on ice, Linda prepared to go into the OHSU transplant unit and have the deed done. At a dinner at her house before hand, she exhibited resolve and fighting spirit. It was hard to believe that someone with Linda's fierce will could be denied a cure.
We visited her at OSHU as she was preparing for the transplant. Since it was Midsomer, we brought a bunch of traditional Swedish foods and had a festive picnic out on the hospital veranda. We (LK, I, Gary, Joan, Michael and Linda) all wore surgical masks which we painted with decorations, sang drinking songs and wore fanciful floral crowns.
At first, the transplant seemed to go well, and Linda was discharged to home. But not long afterward, she was readmitted with host/graft disease in her gut. Her own T-cells were attacking the lining of her stomach. This led to treatment with large dossages of steroids which have nasty side-effects.
When LK and I visited her at OSHU a few days ago, it appeared that the steroids were not working and that Linda was sinking into some kind of psychosis. She was behaving like a person with a traumatic brain injury, with repetitive statements, very slow reactions and strong emotional reactions. She had apparently upset the hospital staff with her criticisms and salty language. The next day, the doctor told us, they would be bringing in a psychiatrist and conducting a CAT scan. There was also a problem of not being able to sleep that was contributing to the mental confusion.
Today we heard that she will also have an MRI, apparently because the doctors think she is having a rare neurological reaction to her treatment. When we saw her last, Linda expressed fear of having an MRI.
That's what I know right now. But I can't help but go back to the initial question put to Linda: go through hell for a possible cure or take a few short years of "normal" life and check out?
I honestly don't know what choice I would take. Part would depend upon those close to me. I don't like the prospect of spending my endgame connected to a bunch of tubes in the confines of the medical culture. But you don't always get what you want.
Meanwhile, we did have a wonderful wedding visit from all sorts of relatives including the Hoffer boys. More about that in our next installment: next steps.
.
Yes, I want to say
To anything
What am I to do
With this fierce connection
A knowledge and
Recognition like
A way of stepping
Into one's front door?
.
But I don't know
What I am agreeing to
Except that our
Paths will continue
To be within sight
And for that I
Need no agreement.