September 9, 2023

      I have had a little time to process some things since getting the expected and somewhat welcome news that the transplant cannot happen until there is no sign of infection in my body.
      Looking back I made a mistake on the first day we arrived.  I met with many health care folks.  I should have been adamant that something needed to be done to help me kick a cold.
      In normal circumstances two weeks would likely be enough.  These almost two weeks have been far from normal.  Hindsight is 20-20.
      I had very mixed emotions when we met with the doctor.  Disappointed that the transplant may not be as scheduled.  Relieved because whatever is in my chest I thought could cause serious ramifications after chemotherapy destroys my immune system.
      We got some great news about the myeloma’s response to the chemotherapy. The initial blood work indicated that the chemotherapy treatments had been successful. 
      We hadn’t heard until yesterday about the results of the bone marrow biopsy.  There are so few myeloma cells that they were considered undetectable.  It didn’t mean that they weren’t there; it meant that there were so few of them that “parts per million” didn’t register.
      I asked the doctor the question that you’d expect.  “Then why the transplant?”
He gave us two answers.  The myeloma I have is aggressive and might not continue to respond to chemotherapy.  If that was the case in five years, my age could exclude me from being a transplant candidate.
       The stem cell transplant team has been marvelous.  They have been upbeat and positive in every appointment, education, and treatment about the transplant.  Their sense of being upbeat kind of makes you feel that this is just another medical procedure.
       But I have known for some time the seriousness of a stem cell transplant.  I have chosen not to read statistics. 
       When we met with the doctor’s assistant prior to seeing him, the seriousness came home.   She asked me if I had a living will.  Then she asked me if my heart quit beating or I quit breathing, would I want extraordinary measures taken to keep me alive.
       I will say that those questions were far easier to answer some months ago sitting in a lawyer’s office than when you are looking at the possibility, even if it isn’t a great likelihood.
       I obviously have a desire to live or I wouldn’t have gone through what I have or what is in the not-so-distant future. 
       From the beginning of dealing with cancer over 20 years ago I have never asked the Lord to heal me.  Why me?  Why would I have the audacity to ask the Lord to choose to heal me?
       There are lots of reasons that I would like to live.  I enjoy the life I have.  I am blessed beyond measure.  I hope that I am still impacting the lives of others for Jesus.  I’d love to see my grandkids grow up.  I’d be open for Teresa and me to do some things that we’ve never done together.  I’d like to make some more memories with my daughters and their families.
       The Lord and I had a “little talk with Jesus” last night.  It was one of those that I did most of the talking.  Prayer sometimes is like that.  We pour out our hearts to Him and He listens.  In His time He will do the talking.
There is one main reason that I hope the Lord heals me.  It really has nothing to do with me at all.  It has everything to do with the faith of children.  So many children are praying for me.
       Last evening Teresa and I were true to form.  She verbalized on her phone.  I internalized as I pondered.
       Thanks for letting me verbalize.  It helps me deal with things when I write.