Thank God!
Today is a day that we have been anxiously looking forward to for a long time. This morning, we met with the transplant doctor to discuss the plan for the stem cell transplant. Going in to it, we had already confirmed that youngest brother was a perfect match to be his bone marrow donor. The rest of us are not matches, and neither is anyone else in the donor bank. Youngest brother, who was our surprise gift, is now God's hand in saving our family.
The exact timeline is not certain, but it looks like the transplant will likely take place at the beginning of November. 1 week prior to transplant day, N will undergo a high dosage chemo blast so we can eliminate any potential remaining cancer cells. This conditioning also enables N's body to essentially rid his own immune system so he can receive his younger brother's immune system as his own without attacking it as a foreign system. The period we are most concerned about is the 2 week period after transplant where he would feel his worst and his body would be at its weakest point. We will have obliterated everything he has, and this will be the most critical and toughest time on him. According to the doctor, the first 100 days after transplant is really the crucial window we are looking at. After that point, we still have to be very cautious, very careful and very protective of his body, but the deepest of the trenches would be behind us at that point, assuming we make it through with little complications or setbacks.
Though we were aware that this transplant would be happening, it has been weeks of quite an emotional journey for me to get where I am today about this transplant. Through a friend I made at the hospital, I was connected to another family who had experienced a very successful transplant. So in hopes to learn about their experience, I reached out to the mom via email, and when I clicked on her response, one of the first sentences in her email was, "What a praise! Thank God this transplant is an option for you guys!" .....
The exact timeline is not certain, but it looks like the transplant will likely take place at the beginning of November. 1 week prior to transplant day, N will undergo a high dosage chemo blast so we can eliminate any potential remaining cancer cells. This conditioning also enables N's body to essentially rid his own immune system so he can receive his younger brother's immune system as his own without attacking it as a foreign system. The period we are most concerned about is the 2 week period after transplant where he would feel his worst and his body would be at its weakest point. We will have obliterated everything he has, and this will be the most critical and toughest time on him. According to the doctor, the first 100 days after transplant is really the crucial window we are looking at. After that point, we still have to be very cautious, very careful and very protective of his body, but the deepest of the trenches would be behind us at that point, assuming we make it through with little complications or setbacks.
Though we were aware that this transplant would be happening, it has been weeks of quite an emotional journey for me to get where I am today about this transplant. Through a friend I made at the hospital, I was connected to another family who had experienced a very successful transplant. So in hopes to learn about their experience, I reached out to the mom via email, and when I clicked on her response, one of the first sentences in her email was, "What a praise! Thank God this transplant is an option for you guys!" .....
I sat there blinking at that sentence for a minute. Stuck on it. What did she mean thank God this was an option? Shouldn't she have said something along the lines of, "I'm so sorry you have to go through this transplant?" In that eureka! moment, understanding sank in that sometimes life is simply about a tiny little shift in perspective. Here I was completely grief-stricken about facing what's to come. True confession: I was going into this with reluctance, and admittedly some self-pity for our family. I was frightened, in despair, and consumed with tears. But whereas I saw suffering, pain, isolation, and loss, this woman saw goodness in it. She saw healing, she saw possibility, she saw opportunity, and above all else she saw hope. I found out through someone else that for that family, although their daughter flew through the transplant without complications, their fight is far from over. The transplant was an option given to them when they didn't have very many left. I do remember upon relapse, through blurred tears I looked the doctor straight in the eye and asked him, "How's the prognosis on this for relapse?" And his response was, "Quite honestly, N has treatment options. I cannot say that to all families. Sometimes there are no options left, but for N, we have strong options." Not just options, but strong options.
Through that one line in the email, that woman started a change in my attitude about this. God in His perfect plan placed brilliant minds before us to make advances in medicine and ultimately pave a pathway for N to be healed in this exact moment in time. We have options, and despite being terrified of the option, the ugly beauty of it is that it's a chance at a forever cure. Thanks to that mom, I too am now able to exclaim "Thank God!" about what is to come.
Through that one line in the email, that woman started a change in my attitude about this. God in His perfect plan placed brilliant minds before us to make advances in medicine and ultimately pave a pathway for N to be healed in this exact moment in time. We have options, and despite being terrified of the option, the ugly beauty of it is that it's a chance at a forever cure. Thanks to that mom, I too am now able to exclaim "Thank God!" about what is to come.
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