For the last few weeks I’ve been respecting my dad’s wishes
and kept things private until he was ready for the next wave of attention and
well wishes to come flooding in. I left
little hints that something was happening.
Thankfully, for dad’s sake, no one caught on. But the last few weeks my world has been
crumbling down, just like it did 6 years ago.
At the beginning of March, dad stopped treatment. They checked the cancer and it is consuming
50% of his body. Not as bad as when he
was diagnosed, but not good either. He
was scheduled to discuss options with KU Med.
Then my last grandparent passed away.
And then he met with KU.
For you to fully understand the magnitude of what I’m about
to share with you, you need to remember where we came from. Dad pretty much had all but one arm in his
grave when he was diagnosed in May 2010.
He was told he would likely only live another 22 months. We knew he had one of the more advance cases
of multiple myeloma and that there was only one outcome – one day it will
eventually take his life. He was
incredibly sick. 80% of his body was
full of cancer, he had 2% kidney function, with very little chance of recovery. He only had one option. To fight.
To begin dialysis and chemo and eventually a bone morrow transplant from
his own body. In the course of 2 years,
he had 2 transplants, one of which put him into remission…..for only a
year. This sounds wonderful, but
remission for this kind of cancer/treatment should have lasted 4+ years. Not a mare, 11 months. The doctors deemed it failed. So he began various cocktails of chemo.
2 months after Dakota proposed to me, we found out that dad
had another form of cancer in is body, MDS.
His doctor wanted him to do transplant #3, a donor one this time. Dad was given 1 more year before everything
would take over. He declined the
transplant option. His daughter was
getting married and he didn’t want to take away from that. 11 months later, my dad was still here,
healthy enough to walk me down the aisle and give me away.
He has been give 2 different time frames and he has outlived
both of them. He continues to shock the
doctors with everything he has overcome.
I think anyone who knows my dad, knows his story, and sees his charts
could all describe him in one single word – STRONG.
So…he met with KU.
The cancer is progressing and options are becoming fewer and fewer. He has 3 options and each one lead down a
scary and dangerous road.
Option 1: He can choose to do transplant #3, but with a
donor this time...in New York City. They
are doing trials and have access to some ‘stronger, but softer’ drugs. His brother is a 100% match, but there is a
20% chance dad will reject it. See, he
could never reject the previous transplants because it came from his own
body. But what happens when you don’t
have your own bone morrow and you reject someone else’s? You die within a week. If he makes it out of the 100 days of
isolation, there is still a chance he could reject the morrow later on down the
road. But if he doesn’t reject the
transplant…well, that’s the first time we’ve ever heard of a form of a
‘cure’. He would essentially be cancer
free. The chemo treatments would stop
and all he would have to do is take drugs that will help his body not attack
his new bone morrow.
Option 2: He can choose to do transplant #3 at KU Med, where
he has had the other transplants. He
won’t be offered as many drugs as what NYC has.
Option 3: He chooses not to have the transplant. He tries the remaining drugs that are out
there until the cancer finally takes over.
And then on their way home they got a phone call. His numbers in his blood work were going
up. He was off treatment for only 3
weeks and his kidneys were seeing it.
The cancer is aggressive and moving fast. They admitted him into the hospital that
evening. Now he was given 2 options (not
related to what they just learned hours earlier in KU).
Option A: Get 6 very
strong chemo drugs for 24 hours a day for 4 days straight. It’s going to take away his immune system and
will take another 4 weeks for him to recover.
He has to have treatment in the hospital so they can constantly monitor
his numbers. If something gets too low,
then they can give him a boost.
Option B: Take some weaker drugs and see how it goes. If he chooses this option and it’s not strong
enough, then the harder drugs won’t be an option. And then a transplant won’t be an option.
He chose option A. He
made it through all 4 days of chemo with flying colors. He had 2 bags of red cells, and a bag of
platelets. And after being in the
hospital for an entire week, he gets to come home and recover in the comfort of
his own bed. And even though that sounds
nice, we aren’t in the clear either.
It’s day 10 that he will beginning to feel the effects….
Dad is still left with making the toughest decision of his
life. After 6 roller coaster years, we
have finally hit the ‘oh shit, this is the beginning of the end’ phase. Each option is difficult to choose and each
option offers an unfavorable outcome.
Mom and I have both vowed to stand by his side in whatever he
chooses. He chose transplant #3 in
NYC. In about 4-5 weeks, after he
recovers from this round of chemo, mom and dad will go to NY to see if he is a
candidate.
And that is as far as I can update you. We wait.
NY will ultimately decide on if the transplant will happen or not.
