July 2, 2009
I’ve been having night sweats for about a week now; starting with teeth-chattering floods and slowing to silent soakers. (Don’t worry, no urine is involved.) It’s a good thing the hotel has a king size bed as I can roll from damp to dry for most of the night. And a great thing they have maid service. My tipping has gone way up.
Sleep hyperhidrosis is the medical term for night sweats. Of its most common causes I can rule out:
- menopause and hormone disorders,
- early sign of lymphoma,
- reaction to medications,
- hypoglycemia,
- HIV,
- neurologic conditions, (no snide emails please)
- and sleeping without an air conditioner.
The probable cause, in descending order of likelihood:
- side effect of engraftment,
- lingering infection,
- sign of some lung damage done by the BCNU chemo.
I’m now on steroids for the nocturnal perspiration and for a persistent cough. I should know more by Monday.
I’m not sweating the outcome.
T+17
July 1, 2009
I got off one drug Monday and two more yesterday. My white counts and platelets are slowly climbing (5.3 and 92), which means my old-new stem cells are engrafted and doing their amazing work. But I got put on the Prednisone for my cough and night sweats, which could indicate a lung problem that sometimes results from BCNU chemo.
Engraftment feels like getting the flu: body aches, weight loss (I’m at 152), low-grade fever, night sweats, but it’s all in a good cause. I keep telling myself feeling bad is part of getting better.
If there are no setbacks, I have my exit interview and get my Hickman Line out next Monday and can go home on Tuesday, with a follow-up appointment on the following Monday. I’ll be on one set of restrictions till the end of July and another till the middle of September. Then it’s just a matter of how quickly I get my energy back.
The transplant has been a success. It remains to be seen if and when the cancer returns, which happens in about 40% of cases. I’m not concerned about that right now; I’m just taking one grace-day at a time. Or what I’m adding to my signature now, “T+16,” i.e. days from transplant.
June 29, 2009
A bone marrow / stem cell transplant is not something you want on your bucket list. It’s not an easy medical procedure to go through and only tolerable because the alternative in most cases is death.
Painful as it has been, my transplant has gone well thus far. And compared to what others have faced, I’m a novice at suffering. Fellow writer, blogger and veteran cancer fighter Ronni Gordon has survived four transplants!
“I got really sick (105-degree fevers) after my induction in 2003. I had an auto and was good for three and a half years. I thought I was done with it but then I relapsed. I didn’t get too sick with the next two: allos from the same donor. I rejected the first graft after six months. They don’t know why. They didn’t think it was the donor so they gave me the same donor a second time. That time at six months the leukemia snuck back in despite the donor and I relapsed. This time they gave me a double dose of some chemo that hopefully got rid of the leukemia for good, plus a transplant from a different donor (Jan. 31). I’m 100 percent engrafted, but the chemo nearly did me in … kidney failure, infections, fevers, coma, the works. So here I sit trying to stay positive. It’s not always easy but as we all know, that’s what we have to do.”
Why fight so hard and endure so much? Because life is precious. Not as a single spark but as a shared experience with family, friends and others. I’m looking forward to playing with my grandkids Jason, Emma, and now Zachary (above), and to growing old with Susan. I want to do more laughing around the table with my kids, to have more philosophical discussions over coffee with my buddies and to convert as many strangers as I can into friends.
These are my reasons to do whatever it takes to stay alive.
What Who are yours?
June 27, 2009
My days now revolve around a pole. Not the kind they have down the block at Shotgun Willie’s, or the professional model they use at the clinic, but my own personal IV pole.
I’m tethered to it five times a day and shot in the chest with antibiotics by my nurse/wife. I’m not complaining because it seems to be curing my infection.
My engraftment is starting to take hold. My white count has climbed above 1; yours is closer to 10 on a good day. My platelets are at 25; yours are between 150-400. But at least I’ve left Ground Zero!
I have a theory about a possible spiritual side effect of a stem cell transplant: Scripture says “the life is in the blood,” but what about the “old man?” What if the sin nature also resides in the blood, which is made in the bone marrow? Was my sin nature eradicated when my bone marrow was irradiated? If so, chemo could be the key to the “Second Blessing.”
Keep an eye on me and see if I sin any more.
Bet you $100 I don’t.
Wait, is betting a sin?
June 25, 2009
Pus consists of large numbers of white cells called polymorphonuclear cells that rush to a specific area of the body in response to infection. These cells engulf and kill harmful bacteria and also enlarge nearby blood vessels to bring more white cells to the scene of the crime, hence the inflammation.
When we see pus, it’s a thick, usually yellowish-white ooze of degenerating white blood cells, tissue debris, protein, skin cells and dead or dying microorganisms.
In my current condition, when the sore on my hand—now the size of a quarter, and the one my leg—the size of a silver dollar—call 911, no one answers. Talk about a budget shortfall, my body is bankrupt and there are no emergency services available.
But I am getting outside help in the form of three or four more drugs that Susan has to give me several times daily. It’s a triage measure but I should be making my own pus again by next week. How’s that for a specific life goal – make pus.
Tony Robbins would be so proud of me.
June 24, 2009
About what they expect at this stage of engraftment (Day 9). The infected sore on my hand isn’t helping. No pus (white blood cells) to carry it away so I’m on two more antibiotics.
Thanks for the thoughts and prayers.
June 24, 2009
Fever, chills, possible infection.
Not better this morning.
We’ll see what the doc says.
June 22, 2009
. . . a stem cell transplant is NOT like a luxury vacation:
- You feel like the “morning after” without the “night before.”
- Forget laying out; 15 minutes of direct sun can cause 3rd degree burns.
- Risky activities aren’t hang-gliding and para-sailing but flossing and nail clipping.
- “Water sports” involve the bathroom, not the pool.
- Alcohol is only for cleaning your line caps and port site.
- Your “cocktails” aren’t mixed by a sexy bartender but by a pharmacist in hazmat gear.
- Your mouth feels like you’ve been sucking poison ivy Altoids.
- “Shooting up” means a neupogen shot.
- “Sleeping in” refers to anything after 5:30 a.m.
- The little blue pills you take have absolutely nothing to do with Viagra.
