Round 29

Today we found ourselves at Winship Cancer Institute at Emory University for Deana's 29th round on the clinical trial.  To be at this place is a blessing that defies description.  When Deana was accepted into the trial in August 2014 we were told it was a 10 cycle trial.  Since Deana is experiencing such outstanding results, she has remained on this wonder drug.  We pray that it will continue to prove effective until a cure is found.

I am thankful to be back in the area so that I may fulfill my duties as Captain of Team Beat the Hell Outta Multiple Myeloma (BTHO MM for short).  It would appear that I arrived not a moment too soon, as this morning, after the first round of blood was analyzed, Nurse Jenny asked Deana if she has been taking her Neupogen shot.  In layman's terms, Neupogen helps to keep Deana's immune system functioning well.  Deana admitted that she has missed the last two shots.  The result -- her white blood cell count was too low for treatment.  A real bummer.

But, there was hope.  Apparently, it has been found that some exercise can often increase the white blood cell count quickly.  So, we were instructed to run up and down the stairs for five minutes. After this cardio burst, blood was drawn again, the white blood cell count increased sufficiently and we were able to proceed.  Another interesting byproduct of the exercise -- Deana's hemoglobin was 11.7 in the first report and jumped to 12.4 in the second.  She was most pleased and is contemplating riding a bicycle to Emory from Aunt Anne's house from now on.

We met Deana's new coordinator, LaShante, who was most friendly and helpful.  Deana hopes she'll stick around for awhile, as this is her fourth coordinator in a rather short time.  (Everyone has assured Deana that she hasn't scared away the previous coordinators.)  Rapport with those on the caregiving team is so important, as I'm sure MM warriors will attest.  While of course these kind folks are "doing their jobs," their work is a calling.  The warmth, friendliness and compassion demonstrated by everyone we have been in contact with since coming to Emory has been exceptional.  Winship is a special place.  Miracles happen here.

We also ran into Dr. Nooka, one of the doctors on the MM team.  He mentioned that he needs Deana's report from her first bone marrow biopsy, which was taken in April 2011.  There is a lab in California waiting to compare that report against Deana's most recent biopsy to determine just how deep her response is.  This interaction reminded me how important it is to support research efforts.  It has been a while since I have been on that soapbox, so let me again urge those who want to help to consider contributions to Winship, to The Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation, The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society or other agencies that fund the research keeping my sister and many others alive.

A great deal of reading was accomplished, since there is much time where we are sitting and waiting. The highlight was the March issue of Real Simple, and this wonderful article, "Death in the Middle", written by Kristopher Jansma.  Jansma's younger sister is diagnosed with oral cancer at 21 and he poignantly describes his role as a caregiver.  Reading this piece, I offered up more thanks for all of those who have gotten us this far.  Five years.  Every day is a gift.

Jansma very accurately and eloquently depicts the reality of living with cancer --

When someone has cancer on TV or in a movie or even in most books, life tends to become temporarily suspended.  The patient sits dolefully in a chair somewhere getting chemo, perhaps losing her hair, and everyone else rushes to her side and sits around thinking about what it all means. How short, how precious is life!  What a silver lining it is to have this new appreciation of our priorities!

This turned out to be far from the reality.  Nothing was suspended.   Jenn still had to deal with all the ordinary things: work, boyfriend, furniture reorganization, dishes, rent, her roommate, etc.  Mundane or dramatic, life kept happening.  It turns out that chemo is more outpatient than fiction might lead  you to believe.  You're in the hospital receiving treatment for only a few hours a week -- then you're just a person out in the world looking for a parking spot.  You just also have cancer.

I read this to Deana while we sat there and she shook her head in agreement.  In my few trips to treatment, I notice there are people who sit alone for these hours on end.  Maybe they enjoy that time of solitude -- yet I wonder if some of them wouldn't welcome some company.  If you have a friend going through chemo, consider offering to accompany them to treatment.  Alternatively, you could put together a goodie bag of magazines, puzzle books, or share a favorite book of yours to help pass the time.  All the research shows that those who have strong support networks experience better results.

I'll take Deana to the airport tomorrow, where, as Jansma describes, she'll go back to the mundane. Work, making the children's lunches, driving to after-school activities, grocery shopping, laundry -- and most importantly TAKING HER NEUPOGEN SHOT!!!!  She is well aware that although I am still so proud of her and in awe of her bravery, I insist that she do a better job taking her medication as directed.  And, I have made it clear that I am enlisting all of those in our support network to help with this. Here's all you need to do -- email Deana (ddchiusano@yahoo.com) on Saturday, April 9th and encourage her to give herself the neupogen shot. If anyone has tips or tricks as to how they've handled this unpleasant task, please share those too.

As I sign off, enjoy the new photo of Deana taken at treatment today.  She felt that the photo I posted in December was terrible and made her look sick -- and as she was clear to emphasize -- she is not sick.