The good times are killing me

Day 19 in this joint and day 10 post transplant.  When I got here I pulled out the calender and told the Doc that I like to know the ending of movie before I watch it, so tell me when the shit days are gonna be.  "October 4th - 14th your gonna be deep in it."  And the countdown was on.
Friday the 9th hit and the Mucasitis was only in my butt hole.  Then Saturday my inside of my mouth started to turn white. Taking my 15 pills in the morning was taking me almost 2 hours to choke down.  Eating was fucked.  Pudding and Jello were not my friends.
Sunday proved that it was not a "fun day." But Monday was a game changer.  They pulled me off food, and now I have a bag of nutrition dripping into me.  All my pills go in thru a drip.  They gave me a mouth numbing cream similar to the Bob's Butt Numbing Creme that I have been using to put of the flames on my ring of fire.  We hooked up one of those dentist spit suction devices so when my mouths full of thick mucus flem, I can just suck it out.  Sleeping pills only come in a pill form, so they hit me with 50mg of Benadryl and it was lights out.  And the special reach around of all this goodness was a morphine drip.  Every 6 minutes I'm allowed to press the button and give myself 1mg of morphine.   That would be 10 an hour, if I so chose too.  Excuse me, I need to push a button.  On top of all of that, the little hair I do have is falling out.  I go take a leak and look down, it reminds me of when I was 12.  I scratch my head, there's a smooth shiny spot amongst the stubble. 
But the cherry on top to all of this, was Leslie agreed to stay out here another week to help the kids, Lisa and myself out with all of this.
Now I know this all reads like every things great, but it sucks right now.  This is the crap time.  I've got lots of band aids for wounds that need stitches.  But so far it's keeping it all together.
Happy birthdays to two awesome humans, Benny and Emmet.  For your presents, I'm gonna push the button 10 times this hour.  Your welcome.

WeGnar, mid win whats up Facetime this Saturday.

For the first time I got stopped on my route last night.  "John, you're not allowed to leave the floor."  We'll see about that.

See all that whiteness?  That's not cocaine, that's pain.

My Wizard Stick is growing.

This is what I'm eating these days.

Say hello to my friend Morty.

Spit suction receptor thing.  Gonna save it as a souvenir. 

Mouth rinse, mouth numbing and lip protection every 30 minutes or so.

The Larry Hirsch Story

Two links for ya.  If interested.  This 52 year old man, Larry Hirsch, went thru the whole Myelofibrosis Stem Cell transplant like I'm doing.   He tells his account of the journey here.   ABC 15 just did a news story on him on him as well. 

Still Here

Day 4-5 after stem cell infusion is when shits supposed to go down hill.  I hit day 6 3/4 and was still feeling like a champ.  Only things that were bothering me was my burning butt hole, that they make be put a numbing agent on and my beard started to fall out.  I was scratching my face and looked at my fingers, which reminded me of my palms in high school.  Off came the beard.
The other thing was I went 3 days with out sleeping.  Tried everything and anything and got nothing.  I would lay in the bed, looking at the ceiling til 6AM and then maybe go out for a hour or so until there was a nurse shift change and my new care giver would wake me to introduce herself, as well as take vitals.  Doc Hanson suggested we get on some Oxy for the throbbing pain in the ass, as well as the rough mouth that was starting to happen.  Then a hour or so later, they'd stack an Ambian on top of it.  The first night they did that, I made it to 8AM in the morning the next day.  That was Thursday.  We repeated that cocktail on Friday and I got maybe 4 hours.  Then last night we doubled down on the Ambian, and I still got about 4 hours.
Yesterday I had a few visitors.  It was awesome.  Time was flying.  I had to get a plasma infusion as well as a red blood cell infusion as my counts are starting to tank.  Which there supposed to do.  That's what chemo does.  Kills shit.  Kayse and I were in full chat mode when I said to her "time to go."  I had gotten the tap on the shoulder and knew the bowel movement I was about to perform was gonna rip me open.  Thank God for the game 2048.  That's my shit game.  I start sliding those things up and down, the cubes are chiming like crazy and I'm groaning like a gorilla.  Nurses must of been outside my room laughing their asses off.
Post poop, I literally felt like shit.  I got my 3rd of 4 apres stem cell anti GVHD shots which just kicked me in the dick.  In bed I went and stayed there the rest of the day.  On top of that, my mouth started to act up.  I had a few blisters in there and the whole pallet feels like I burnt my mouth by drinking too hot of coffee.  As well as the swallowing of spit is now a challenge.  As I thought I was getting away with murder by bucking the trend of when you get the mouth sores, it slapped me upside the head and let me know I'm like everyone else.
On top of feeling like shit, they "informed me" that they were moving my room.  I had a negative air room that certain people need (I don't) but was in it.  We told em no problem, until Lisa went to look at my new space.  It had a view of concrete wall and was a tiny ass box.  My wife was not having it.  "Hell no you don't.  Environment is a key part of healing, and that is not a healing environment."  So the business manager of the floor came over to explain the politics of how beds work here.  Seattle Cancer Care owns some of the beds, UW owns the others and ICU owns some as well.  The box they wanted to put me in was part of whatever faction I'm part of, but there were rooms open with a view.  Business lady kept going on to Lisa about how they can't do it because of billing, this that and the other thing.  Finally I jumped in "listen lady, you can do anything you want.  Your job is policy and I respect that, but your also responsible for the patients well being.  And at the stage I'm at with this "journey" you need to forget about policy and put a human element to this decision.  Ya dig?"  She walked away, came back and said "we have a room with a view for you.  Your billing may be a little odd, but so be it."  Case closed.
I got about 4 or 5 hours sleep last night, woke up feeling better than I did yesterday afternoon, my mouth still hurt, but I was able to choke down my pills, eggs, oatmeal and a smoothie.  Then got to stretch my legs for a mile stroll thru the halls.
I'm on Day 7 out of 100, and hopefully have less than 3 weeks left in here before I can go home.

Before shave.  What you can't see is beard hair covering my tongue.  Nasty.

 Post shave.

 Thursday 3PM the door knocked and in came this dude.  He took a bus from school and we hung out for a couple of hours.  Watched the 686 movie together and Kevin Backstroms part from BNYD X MDLS.  Which is some next level shredding.  Click the link and go to minute 10 to have your mind melted.

 Frank Martin came in from Skykomish.  Gave me a town update as well as this LuLu Lemon hoodie.  My ass looks so insane in this thing.   Thanks Frank.

 My ex-friend Mike Rosen sent me out a fun ass care package before my infusion with German Stem Cells that I just got.  He no longer likes me because of that Jew vs. German bullshit.  I wanna go to therapy with him to work it out, but we'll see.  Mashooginah!

 This is my 1/2 mile route thru the hospital.  Not really to scale but whatever.  It's a half mile. 

Engraftment Time

T-Sabs asked me "so how long did your Dr. have to go to Harvard for in order to figure out to put a 5lb weight on your chest to try and clot your Hickman?"  Pretty funny when you think about it.

 Lonis surprise stopped in on his way back home to Burlington, looked at the 5 pounder on my chest and said "ya know?"  Thanks Loni.

 My Hickman Line finally clotted up on Sunday night and Monday morning I woke up feeling pretty all time.  Up, first coffee since Friday, pills went down, ate a good breakfast and then Lisa and I walked for 50 minutes and got in 2 miles in the hallway.  Got some of this and that done and then watch the Seahawk Lions game.  Did another mile at halftime and it was time to lay down and lay awake looking at the ceiling for the next 8 hours.  Maybe an hour sleep.
Tuesday was on the same tip as Monday, killer day and my time was filled with visitors.  Logic, Jess, Pile Kyle and Tonto all killed enormous amounts of the day providing a very large smile.  Again I laid down, and looked at the ceiling for 8 hours.
Today is as good as yesterday.  They say today is day 4 of new me, when it's actually day 4 23/24th.  You see the day your stem cells are infused is day 0.  2 days from infusion is day 1 and so on.  The countdown is a 100 day countdown that gauges where your at, provides certain milestones to hit, allows your red/white/platelet counts to go from zero to registering and most importantly allows my new immune system to come into my deserted town and safely inhabit it as well as take it over and make me it's BITCH.
The amount of pills I take is staggering.  They have me on anti GVHD and immune suppressants up the ass so new immune system doesn't come into me and say "hey, this fuck tard isn't German, he's a God damn dumb Pollack.  I'm gonna gas his ass."  These drugs are kinda like booze.  It relaxes the immune system enough to trick it into thinking that the Pollack is actually a good guy and this superior immune system should take me under the wing and make me little buddy.
Day 5-7 though is when the shit show is supposed to start.  You mucus layers are affected by the chemo and the GVHD medicines so you get gnarly mouth sores, can't eat, swallow or spit, you gut is rotten and your ass is now a liquid dispenser.
My mouths showing nothing yet, guts been OK, but my ass.  Man, it feels like I spent the last week at the Wing Dome eating extra hot wings consistently and as Social Distortion says, "I got a burning ring of fire!"  So much so that it's one of the things keeping me awake at night.  Pulsing, puckering, never giving up and always just a...pain in the ass.
Dr. says I'm doing great though.  That yea I may have painful bum, but at this point my butt should be a liquid fountain, and I should be showing mouth sores.  The floor docs changed and Dr. Egan who's been killing it for me for the last two weeks introduced me to my new Doc, Dr. John Hansen as "the ideal patient."
And that's a first that I've ever been described as Ideal anything.  So I'll take it.
I don't want to sound like a broken record, but thank you everyone that has sent a note, Skype, ran the Space Needle, Facetime, email, phone call, message, sent a card and visited me while in the hospital.  It has helped enormously with dealing with being in prison for a while.  So much so that I have a pleasant memory of the last 13 days in here.  XO

Sunrise view from my room.  Not bad eh?

Sunset view of the houseboats on Lake Union and the I5 bridge.  Just get cancer and you can have this view.  Actually don't.

THIS Pendleton showed up yesterday from KB Sales.  My room looks less like a hospital room and looking more like a cabin.  I always wanted one, but the JewPolish in me wouldn't buy one.   I wonder if new GermanYO would spring for it?

 Julie Tontini continuing on with witty sayings and motivating pictures. 

 Morning pills.   Combo that with the 4 bags of drips and there's a lot of commotion going on inside of me.

Stem Cell Go Time

Wednesday morning at 8AM was the last time I had chemo and was due for the stem cells on Friday evening.  That left me three uneventful, but good days building up to the day.  Lots of visitors, work time, Skype, watching movies and walking filled those days. 
About 8PM on Friday I noticed a blood stain on my only tee shirt I had and it revelled that I had moved my Hickman line enough that I was bleeding out of my insertion hole.  No problem though, a lot of clean up, gauze, tape and the assertion that this would not hold up what was about to happen. 
8:30PM hit and in walked my bag of a second chance.   It looked like tomato juice after it had been sitting in ice for a while.  They hooked me up and 2 hours later lunch reared it's face for a second chance thru my mouth.  A nausea pill solved that and 4 hours later at 1AM on Saturday we were finished. 
I had a good sleep but woke up feeling like shit.  Started the morning off with a mellow bile puke, which moved into a fart presenting itself as a shit in my pants, and continued with that feeling the rest of the day.  Thank God for baby wipes. 
Today though, feeling like a champ.  Except my Hickman line is bleeding again, and they got a 5lb weight on it trying to get the blood to stop coming out.  Remember, my red blood cells, white blood cells and platelets were just poisoned and in the process of dying off and being replaced with Kraut blood.  Anyway, all good in the hood. 

Lisa and I going back and forth with Stick and Silly Chick Jen by I-Message.  Good times.

This Godsend showed up on Wednesday.  Lisa's sister Leslie is out to care for the kids for the next two weeks while Lisa cares for me.  I love you Leslie.

Boys have been coming by for a visit and playing candy crush. 

New me in a bag.

423ml containing pure 20 year old Arian Kraut blood.

Mano-pause

Chemo Dayze 4-6

The last three days have been pretty much the same.  Wake at 5AM, bake my veins with the Butocin until 8AM, then get some vitals, blood work, coffee, order breakfast, check the 'puter, go for a walk, eat, talk to the attending physician, talk to the nurses physician, walk, lift in room, get sleepy, stay away, have a visitor or two come by, and hopefully not talk about this, but share some bullshit going on in their world.  And that's been happening on the regulars.  Thank you all that are providing this.  As far as how I feel?  1 week down, 4 more to go.  Checking them boxes yo!  My head gets a little off track here and there.  No problem, Dr.s got a pill for it.  My stomach keeps uncontrollably hiccuping because of the chemo.  We got a pill for that too.  Not able to swallow?  Pill.  Is it tough to sleep with everything going on?  Here you go.

Rocky and Clay know how I feel in this hospital.  Won't you help?

I've got 48 hours to burn before my stem cells come in on a plane from Germany, stopping in NYC for a hot second and then touching down in Seattle by 10PM.  If dude carrying the freshly harvested bone marrow can get to my hospital room before midnight on Friday, I'll be getting my transplant then, otherwise Saturday.  If your reading this, and want to help out, then I ask this. Give my a movie to find on Hulu, Amazon Prime or Nexflix to watch that will make the time fly by.  Here's my list of favorite movies:  Marley and Me, The Town, The Fighter, Do the right thing, The Natural, Matrix, Shawshank Redemption, Friday, Colors, Green Mile, Big, Nemo, Boyz in the hood, CBT, Hustle and Flow, Taladega Nights, Mission Impossible, Bourne Identity, 300, St. Vincent, Blades of Fury.

As always, thank you for everything.   

Two and Three

Two more days in the books, two more treatments.  Saturday afternoon was my second installment of Cy toxin and then Sunday morning at 5AM my cocktail that takes three hours to be consumed was delivered, Butosin.  So far the only side effects of this poisoning are:  burping continuously, watery eyes, hard swallowing and a light headiness that feels like, light headiness.  Plus it might be killing off my marrow and immune system, but I can't feel that.  Yet.
I've been walking my ass off so much around here that they want to throw a Lojack on me so they can track me down for more pills, tests, blood draws, a couple of blood transfusions, sodium and what not.  Sodium...in 38 hours I've gained 10lbs.  From 184 - 194 over night.  Full cankles too.  I'm so swoll that if I stood next to Jody High Roller that fat fuck would look cut.
My days have been filled with nurses and Dr.s doing things to me.  Walking down corridors they say I'm not allowed to go too, so I can get some laps in.  Make shift prison workouts where I do push ups on the chairs, cause they don't want me to touch the floor. Standing squats and my rehab bands that I still had.  Then I get on the Greg Lammond spin bike from 2005 and give that a whirl.  I know this "warrior" in me will go away soon.  I see it all day as I walk by the doors, men and women bed ridden.  I can almost hear them mumbling in the drug induced slumbers "fucking newb, wait a week kid, you'll be just like us."
Shits kinda real.  Dude down the row from me died yesterday.  Just when I thought the Anti Pussy Pills were working, that goes and happens and well, tears you up.
Anyway a quick update, I'm hanging in there while here in hospital prison.

I got some visitors.  Lisa has been at my side daily, and today brought Milo by.  Mac was too sick from downing a sub, then riding 6 spinning fair rides to come.  Shit bag Sam came by as well for a good 10min, until the occupational therapist came in and then he bailed.  Tonto made a late night appearance as well.  All lighted up my day.  But my first visit came from Gums and TJ on their way to the UW football game.  Gums had his backpack full of cocktail concoction things and thought it would be appropriate to make a quick one in the ICU / Transplant ward of UW Hospital of Medicine.  Yea.

My day 2's cocktails.

Tonto Facetime'd me Mac's 4th quarter football game. 

Skyping with my parents is always interesting.  Specially since I have to call them on the phone to talk to them, while they watch me talk on the screen.   Bob's putting my old haircut mold on Diane, btw.

  Nurse Erica was so on point at 5am giving me the new new.

Happy wife, happy life.  I don't know if she's happy with this situation but with her next to me at the hospital, life's a lot better.  I should probably smile.  There's a lot to be thankful for.

Call me a pill billy taking a couple cups of these a day.

How rad is this?  Ballard Pat was the surprise visitor later this evening, when he rolled up to the 8th floor just trying to drop off a card and gift.  Nurses brought him down the hall and he joined Tonto and I for much talk about everything and anything.  Then handed me a bag with a space chick book to read, a nicely hand written card and this custom ass "Brave Warrior" hat.  Thanks for the night cap Pat.

Chemo Day One

Well the day finally arrived and I got to admit, it was a tough one to wake up too this morning.   For some reason (Marinol) I slept soundly thru the night, but when the alarm clock rang, I DID NOT want this day to happen.  But we had no choice so off we went to the University of Washington where I'll spend the next month or so at.  Arrival time was 8:30AM so we showed up promptly at 9AM. 

Got to my spacious room on the top floor that overlooks Lake Washington and the Husky football field.  I can't wait til tomorrows game searching thru all the tailgaters to try and see Sam, Rowland and Gumby whooping it up. I'm gonna sit in front of the window, naked, spreading my butt cheeks at the crowd for a while.  Cause I'll be on drugs.  And that's an acceptable thing to do on drugs.  At least it seems that way as I write this on drugs...

They hooked my Hickman line up with fluids and pumped me full of hydration for 3 hours or so before it was time for the poison.  When Brad my nurse was hooking it up to my line, I had this Neo moment from the Matrix where he had the choice of what pill to take: 

"You take the blue pill, the story ends. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes."

―Morpheus, to Neo 

But there's no turning back for me.  I'm all in.  Down the rabbit hole I'm going.   Red pill it is.  GULP.

Not much happened either with it.  I felt a little light headed and had some mouth sensation but that left quickly once I got back on a spin bike and pedaled my ass off for a half hour.  What I need these guys to give me is anti pussy medicine.   This whole thing has been hitting me pretty hard lately and all the emotions that I like to bury deep in the closet have been coming out and showing themselves with me throwing out the random guy cry.  Like here on the bike, I'm pedaling and crying for no reason.  Well there might be a reason.  I think.

Tomorrows another day of this Cytoxin and I guess the chemo will start to show itself in me soon.  I've been told how worse its gonna get before it gets better and I'm not really that pumped on it.  But things like this adorn my room as Lisa brought photos of the kids, cats, family and cards that people have written me and that puts a smile on my face. 

Thanks for all the well wishes and stuff, it really means a lot.  If I could ask one thing though, it would be to knock off the journey, your a warrior, your so brave comments.  Brave and warrior?  Come on, how brave and warrior like is it to do what you need to selfishly do to see your kids grow up and live their life's?  Don't get me started on the journey bullshit either.  This is a trip to the town dump, where you fall off the truck into the shit pile, break your legs, and then the dump closes for the weekend and you have to claw your way out on your hands and knees to make to the road only to get picked up by a meth head that steals your wallet and rapes your mouth before dropping you off in town.  Journey my ass.  This is getting fucked over.  But someones got to do it and I guess it's better me than you.  Your welcome Sparky, Tony and Mike D.  If I didn't get this one of your clowns would of.  Feel good knowing that your free and clear of this shit courtesy of me.  Now Griff, with your luck...

It's on like Don Key Kong

Well week three of the two week testing is in the bag.  Monday was a mellow 9 viles of blood work then a 2.5 hour meeting with my transplant Dr. and the head nurse to sign the final "its a go" papers. Meaning that we are checking into the hospital on Friday and starting chemo.  The meeting had a different tone than last weeks vibe that this whole shit show was going to be mellower than we thought.  The severity of what is going to go down was gone thru in depth.  15% chance of dying, 60% chance of getting graft vs. host, this percent of getting this, that percent of getting that...on an on an on.  It kind of threw me for a loop.  I asked where my disease falls in the spectrum of cancers and Dr. Georges said its in the mid way zone.  That the scarring of the marrow from the Myelofibosis ups the consequences because it complicates things a little more.
BUT, he did say that we timed this whole thing perfectly.  That where we are with the disease and how far it's progressed in me is the "perfect" time to move forward with fixing the problem.  "You've pushed this thing as far as possible without really having any symptoms of the Myelofibrosis, and for the most part have been able to live a normal life."  Uh really?  Maybe I'll give him a link to this well written blog so he can see how few symptoms I've had.
Health wise though, I passed with flying colors.  Except for the mellow blood clot I got going in my stomach from the spleen surgery that they'll rectify by doubling down my dose of blood thinner shots that Lisa gives me once a day to now two times a day.  Fun.
I had to ask him the what if question.  "Doc, what IF I said fuck it?  I don't want to go thru all of this.  That I just want to let this play out, what's your prediction?"  He said that seeing how we ran this as far as possible without having to deal with many of the symptoms of the disease, that the disease would begin to showing its ugly face.  With the spleen out, my liver would start to be effected and begin to shut down.  I'd need multiple blood transfusions.  Blood clots would be common.  My kidneys would be screwed.  We'd still have to be on a shit ton of drugs, immune suppressants,  blood thinners, etc, etc, etc.  My quality of life would drastically go down and that I'd maybe last 3-5 years.  So that ended that little pipe dream and back to reality, which means back to the pain train.
Tuesday we did a food safety class, as well as another run thru with a transplant nurse on the transplant.  This confirmed the Monday meetings vibe that things are going to be not so fun for a while.

Today I got to visit my ole buddy Fentanyl because they installed a Hickman line into me.  The Hickman is a silicone line with two ports that is inserted into my chest and hooked into an artery so they can easily draw blood for testing, give me blood, chemo, stem cells and of course...lots of drugs. 
On one hand I'm happy that all this jerking off to the main event is over, but I got to admit, I've been having some serious sit down and cry moments thinking about whats coming up and how it's going to fuck with Lisa and the kids.
 Pity party aside, one more visit tomorrow back to Cancer Care to get taught how to care for my Hickman and then Friday morning, 8AM it's on like Donkey Kong.

 A freshly implanted Hickman Line.  Yes I'm a skinny pussy.  Commence the heckle. 

Thank God for this chick.  She has been about as awesome as someone could be.  People at SCCA think we're drunk when we show up because we've been coping with this shitty situation by laughing our asses off together every day we go there.  Whether we want to or not.  It's been a nice distraction from reality.  I hope we keep it going.

Here's a liter of metal water that I had to drink so they could then do a CT scan of my stomache and find the blood clot.  Tasty.

My buddy Tony and his lovely wife sent me a box of goods to pass the time at the hospital.  I can't wait to bust this bad boy out and give it a full pull.

That was the last time I'll be able to do this with our pussy's, seeing how cats like to roll in shit, lick shit, dig in shit and what not.  Luckily we don't have to get rid of them.

 

With all the drugs these guys have been pumping me with, something was bound to...bind. 

Chemo School weak too

To sum up this weeks 20 hours worth of visits at Seattle Cancer Care would be:  7 viles of blood given, stupid ass voluntary questionnaire done, radio active additive to my blood to see how my left ventricle works, meetings with the nutritionist, Chaplin, Dr. George Georges, pharmacist, swab of the nose, swab of the butt hole, bone marrow core sample from my hip bone, prescription for Marinol (synthetic weed), another prescription for Marinol cause the first one made me high as a kite and then the general nod in the direction from my Yellow Team Dr. and Head Nurse that this whole shit show is a go next Friday as I'm checking out healthy enough to handle all the crap that's gonna go thru me.

View from my bed post bone marrow sample while on Fentanyl.  Mmmmmm.  This photo obviously meant something to me while I was on drugs. I guess that's why it's called DOPE.

The one encouraging thing out of this whole week was meeting 28 year old Billy from Alaska.  I saw this kid walking in and out of appointments on Tuesday.  He was bald had that tint to his skin that tipped me off that he had been thru chemo and what not.  I haven't really figured out how to roll up to someone at Cancer Care and throw out the "so what do you have?"  But I was curious, cause this kid was young and he was one of the very few people walking thru that place with a smile on his face, after the fact.  Later that day Lisa and I were in the elevator going to another appointment and I was holding the transplant Bible that they give you and he was in the elevator.  He says, "you got a transplant coming up huh?"  "Yup"  "Well don't worry about it, I'm 30 days out of mine and I can tell you that going to all these appointments and classes are more painful than the chemo and transplant itself.  Just keep a good attitude and you'll do fine."  The elevator door opens up, we say "thank you" and walk out, then look at each other with tears running down both our faces.  Totally blown away.  Later in the week we run into him again and he tells us he had AML, which is Acute Myloid Leukemia, which is what my Myelofibrosis manifests into down the road if we don't handle business now.  He had the 6 days of chemo, then transplant and the dude honestly looked amazing for being 30 days out.

Pretty hopeful and anxious to get rolling at this point. 

Chemo School day 2-3

Welcome to my new office on the 6th floor of Seattle Cancer Care, located in the waiting room of the Blood & Marrow Transplant Clinic.  Here's where I roll in and out of meetings, check ups, physicals, mentals and dentals.  
Yesterday we started off with an x-ray of my mouth.  Then to meet our Social Worker Lindsey.  Lins was more like a psychologist as she spent an hour asking us questions about how we're feeling, if we're looking for resources, how we're adjusting and crap like that.  I ended up scoring a 6 out of a 100 on her test, which ment I was pretty adjusted to the shit show that's going on and I wouldn't have to meet with her anymore to discuss my "feelings."  The 6 points that I did end up getting were from the question of:  "what do you think about yourself when you look in the mirror?"  "Uh disgusted as I've withered away to a 177 pounder because of this shit."    Oh...ok.  "And John, how do handle your feelings when your sad about your situation?"  "Lindsey, I bury those thoughts so far in the closet and close the door, that I never have to worry about them ever coming out."  "Uh...yea...well good luck with the transplant, it was nice meeting you two."
Then off to meet Dr. Marcus and my yellow team nurse Cindy who went thru one more time, step by step all the medications, complications, sicknesses, and crap that could, may and hopefully won't go down thru this treatment.  As well as me signing my life away to consenting to go thru with everything and allowing myself to be used in as many studies and clinics while I'm in treatment to further the progression in looking for a cure for this stuff.   "Listen, I don't give a crap what you do to me while I'm in the hospital trying to get better here.  You need to get samples, poke holes, do this or that, I'm all for it.  BUT as soon as I'm out of here, I'M OUT OF HERE.  I am not coming back to this place. You dig?"  They dug.

Today was a breeze.  I met with the dentist and got a hour long exam of my dental work.  Which all checked out perfect as we have killer dental insurance and I see my dentist twice a year.  Apparently with the strong chemo that I'm getting, dude said that I should plan on having mouth sores for around three weeks post chemo.  They should get kinda gnarly and I'll have to get fed thru liquid for a bit as well as take pain meds for it.  Makes flossing sound fun at this point. 
Then off to the pulmonary testing where Janet put me in this fish tank and made me hyper ventilate for 45 minutes testing my lungs and their capacity.  Bingo, scored a 100 out of 100 here and my lungs, teeth, heart and head are all cleared to go.
Testing resumes next Monday.  I have tomorrow off.  

Chemo School Day 1

Yesterday was day one in this "journey" as everyone but me calls it.  Really, getting chemo, stem cell transplant, sickness and all that shit is a journey?  I'd call that getting fucked.
Regardless, Lisa and I rolled into Seattle Cancer Care at 11AM, I checked in and got my packet to fill out about my health, prior surgery's, family history and all that other crap.  Then I checked into the blood draw and waited a bit with a bunch of living dead to get a gallon drained from my arm.  The nurse that drained me of blood informed me that she gave stem cells/bone marrow to a 4 year old 10 years ago.  She had to have the marrow taken from her hip bone too.  Pretty painful, super admirable and the kid is 14 now. 
12 viles of blood were taken.  Two for for my HLA typing, which is the 10 markers they need to match me up with the 18 year old German kid that's agree'd to give me his stem cells so I can live.  This is the final match up to make sure that our puzzles fit so he can go forward and donate his stem cells.  Other viles were my normal tests, HIV testing, amongst other things. 
From there we went up to the 6th floor and was welcomed to the "Yellow Team."  The Yellow Team is my new care givers for the next 100 days or so.  Dr. Beckers team hands me off to this transplant team and they now are the ones responsible for every aspect of my care until I get out of the danger zone 100 days post transplant.  It was sort of a meet and greet with who does what and what to do. 
Then I had a physical with one of my Yellow Team Doctors.  There was a good question and answer session that went down between Lisa, myself and him.  Things that I remember from this would be that 60% of transplants that go down from unrelated donors get graft vs. host disease.  Skin rashes, stomach cramps and vomiting are things I can look forward too if I fall in that 60%.  He was pretty non nonchalant about the whole procedure and kinda minimized our fears while talking to him.  Which could be a good thing, or bad.  Who knows. 
5 hours later we were gone, home for a Pagliacci pizza and a couple episodes of Netflix's Pablo Escobar resting up and getting ready for todays meetings which include signing all sorts of consents to be part of clinical trials as well as getting my EKG heart check up.
What a fun journey this is.