All things are possible

We continue now waiting for his blood counts to start going up, which they say would happen around day +14, because that is the "bingo" moment that W's cells have woken up in his system. From that point on, he will have a new immunity courtesy of lil brother. Until then, he has nothing. So we simply need to be vigilant about keeping him free of infections, and then as the new cells graft into his system, the doctors are alert for signs of skin rashes that may irritate him if not tightly controlled. Beyond that, our concern would always be what they call graft v. host disease, a condition where his new cells see the body as a foreign system and starts to attack itself repeatedly. This is something to be concerned with for about a year. The chances of that happening are there, but less likely when you have a perfect sibling match.

So the big question: how's he doing?

They told us to be prepared for what is to come. They told us rarely do transplant patients do okay without a feeding tube. They told us a morphine pump would likely be necessary for him to tolerate the debilitating mouth sores. They sent teams of pain specialists to talk us through our options so we could be prepared to call on them as the sores surface. Every conversation gave me more thoughts to mull over as I stared at the ceiling numb with worry every night.

But.....

We are now 10 days post chemo and +8 days post transplant, and we have yet to see any signs of discomfort at all. The doctors come in every morning just floored at how well he is doing this far into the transplant. Whereas other patients at this point can hardly move from the pain, N was doing side lunges down the hall with his physical therapist today. The nurses chuckled that he was doing moves they can't even do.

The medical team absolutely did what they were supposed to in depicting a realistic picture of what they truly expected to happen. It's true that going into it, N had some really great things going for him. He was in good condition, AND his donor was a perfect sibling match. But the doctors were all well aware of this, and yet they still expected him to endure some really tough days.

So how does this all make sense?

God has left us with no other explanation but Him. He heard our cries, our desperate pleas, and our submission to His will. And by "ours" I mean OURS. We have felt renewed strength in the outpouring of prayers for our family, and not a single word of any prayer has fallen on deaf ears. I joked with N today that I think so many people out there were praying so hard for him that Jesus finally said, "Ok people! I hear you! I hear all of you!" Behind his side smirk, I saw a flash of him feeling truly touched. Which, if any of you know N well, then a flash of that kind of emotion is kind of a big deal. So when I'm alone in my car now, my tears are filled with gratitude for all of our prayer warriors out there, and most importantly for our merciful and faithful God. After all, it is He who said, "With men, this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."