The best part of this week was Wednesday and Thursday when we finally got a break from going to the hospital. The visit to the hospital had become way too familiar. But as I say that, I have to acknowledge the good people on the 8th floor at LDS Hospital. We are getting to know them well and they couldn't be nicer to us. They see patients like us everyday all day and they are constantly encouraging us and looking for the good, little things that are happening. We certainly couldn't do this without them. Kevin has been pretty constant all week. He's eating everything I fix him, and that's good since that's all he can have. He eats because he has to, not because he is hungry. His appetite is still pretty small. I would call this week steady. No extreme ups and downs, which I appreciate. I believe the effects of the chemo and radiation are finally about out of his system, but they did manage to take all the energy from Kevin. Last week the Physician Assistant said that if Kevin felt like it he could go outside for a walk. It's not the outdoors that is a problem, it is people. So Wednesday, I told Kevin we could drive someplace where there are no people who would want to talk to him and go for a little walk. He suggested that he had already gone for a walk, he explained from the bedroom upstairs to the dining room down the stairs. And that was about what he had the energy to do. Getting strength and energy back will be a wait. Kevin has started to have some minor headaches this week, which are a side affect from the Tacro medicine he takes. He can't take any Tylenol or Advil or anything like that for his headache because those drugs would mask a fever, which is the first symptom we watch for Graft vs. Host disease, so that it makes it hard. He is finding he has to eat and rest at the right times to avoid the headaches and we are still trying to get the right Tacro level. On Friday we went back to the hospital for lab work. When the nurse pulled up his results he said, "WOW, look at those platelets, they have sky rocketed." My goal when this is over is for someone to award me some type of medical degree, so I will explain what that meant. It simply amazes me all the things that can be determined by a blood test. The medical team can determine almost exactly what is happening by those blood counts. All of Kevin's counts are low right now. That's what happens when they give you chemo and radiation. He had to go low in order to accept the donor cells. The purpose of the lab work 3 times a week is to make sure he doesn't go to low, which would then require a transfusion. Platelets cause our blood to clot, so without platelets, we would all bleed to death. Not good! Kevin's platelet count had been as low as 55, on Friday his platelet count was 143. Let's hear it for Kevin's platelets. Most of our platelets probably run around 300 to 400, so he has a ways to go, but that was quite an improvement. That increase could possibly suggest that the donor cells have begun to en graft, which is the best news of the day. Kevin's neutrophils have also increased significantly. Neutrophils are our first line of defense against bacteria and infection. As the neutrophils go higher, Kevin's ability to fight bacteria and infection will increase. Good news Friday! Many have asked if Kevin is going crazy yet. Not yet. He does a couple of hours of work everyday on the computer and phone and he has a good book that he is in the middle of and both of those things fill his day. I think he's not crazy yet, because he doesn't have the energy yet to do much more than that. His attitude is great and he finds something to laugh at and harass me about every day. The kids are doing there job of cracking the jokes and making him laugh.
One of the greatest tender mercies in the past two years has been seeing the power of the priesthood. Our family has come to have great faith in the knowledge of the Plan of Salvation. This has to be one of Kevin's favorite lessons to teach. Several times he has got out his old missionary binder with his favorite chart in it and bore testimony of the Plan of Salvation. What a blessing it is to understand that Heavenly Father has a plan for all his children. We know that Heavenly Father has a specific plan for Kevin. We know Heavenly Father's plan for Kevin will be manifest through the priesthood. The priesthood is "the power to act in God's name". Every time Kevin has received a priesthood blessing, Heavenly Father has manifest his love and his blessings to Kevin. A week before the transplant Kevin received a blessing from our stake president, President Dahl. Kevin received a blessing from his dad with his other family members joining in the circle. When Kevin was in the hospital, Bishop Lloyd came to visit and gave Kevin a blessing. Each blessing brought comfort and peace. A few days after those blessings, Kevin received a card from a former co-worker which said, "I have no doubt that you have angels surrounding you." Reading those words brought to my mind the blessings he had received and reminded me that he was blessed to have angels attend him. She went on to say that "those angels are usually our ancestors and relatives who know us well." This weekend as we remember those loved ones who have gone on before us, I am comforted to know that angels do administer to Kevin and to all of us. I think of my grandparents and Grandma Freeman and know that they are with us or are sending the best angels to comfort Kevin at this time. That is a tender mercy. Kevin and his sister Becky, who has also endured cancer, share something special that was promised to each of them in their Patriarchal Blessings, and they recognize that it is through the power of the priesthood that those blessings will be fulfilled. The power of the priesthood and the knowledge we have of Heavenly Father's plan of salvation, his plan of happiness, are tender mercies.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
The Aliens Have Landed
Sunday was a pretty uneventful day, which at this time I like uneventful. Considering what the Sunday before brought, we are happy to start this week off with no news to report. Kevin is doing well. He is eating and taking his medication on schedule, and those are my duties and he is complying well. He still finds himself being more tired than he wished and still some nausea, but considering what his body has gone through and all the medicine he puts in it everyday, I think he is handling it all real well. Monday we went to the hospital for blood work and his numbers were good, so we were told to go home, which we like to hear. Good numbers means that none of his counts are low enough to require a transfusion, which is pretty common for Kevin's condition. Tuesday we went back to the hospital to see the doctors. Wow, did that ever turn into a long day. Kevin and I both agreed that all we would say was, we are learning many things, and patience is one of them. When a doctor visit becomes a 4 and 1/2 hour ordeal, patience is taught and we just had to find something to laugh at. The good news of the day was that Kevin's platelet count has increased significantly. Platelets are our first line of defense for our immune system. Increased platelet count, could mean that the donor cells are grafting and that was good to hear. We still try to balance the meds and the effects that they are having, so we will continue our three day a week visits to accomplish that. Today we learned of the details of graft vs. host disease and the signs to watch for. That is the next round of the process. Watching for this common problem.
Yesterday, Kevin said to me, "if you don't have anything to talk about, tell them about my central line." So this is Kevin's story, so I'll tell you. We started this transplant process two weeks ago with the central line placement. This is a small surgical procedure in which they cut into his jugular vein and insert three tubes in the right side of his chest. Kevin went into this procedure thinking he would have a little tube sticking out of his chest. Well he was a little surprised to see these three, 4 inch tubes hanging from his chest. He expressed his concern to the nurse of what is this thing and she had the perfect explanation. She said, "we often refer to it as an alien trying to escape from your chest." So we call this thing the alien. The central line serves an important purpose and saves the veins in his arms from being tortured several times a week to draw blood. And it works great, when you take it straight from the jugular, there is no problem drawing it real fast, 3 tubes in about 15 seconds. He can also receive medication when necessary and transfusions if they are needed. Kevin and the alien will have plenty of time to bond, since he will have it for maybe 6 months. You will each have to decide what your personal relationship is with Kevin and if you dare ask to see the ALIEN!
Many friends continue to ask what they can do for Kevin. Phone calls, emails, cards, visits, meals, etc. Let me just explain the situation. You are always welcome to call. If I'm not at the hospital, I am usually home and more than happy to talk to you if you call the house. Many of you call Kevin's cell phone. If he is feeling good and feels like talking, he will answer it. We always listen to the messages and appreciate your words of support. What we don't do very well is return phone calls. That doesn't mean you shouldn't try to call us again, it just means some days there are more calls than there is time to talk. Kevin appreciates the uplifting emails and cards he receives. Visits, just aren't possible right now. Kevin sees the house and the hospital. And anyplace with people is pretty much off limits, due to his compromised immune system. Food, Kevin would love food delivery, but that is just not possible. Kevin and I met with a dietitian at the start of this process and I have a pretty long list of guidelines, what he can and can't eat and how it needs to be prepared. Basically, what Kevin gets to eat is whatever I prepare for him. Sad but true. Again, thank you for your thoughts and prayers and that is what matters the most.
Yesterday, Kevin said to me, "if you don't have anything to talk about, tell them about my central line." So this is Kevin's story, so I'll tell you. We started this transplant process two weeks ago with the central line placement. This is a small surgical procedure in which they cut into his jugular vein and insert three tubes in the right side of his chest. Kevin went into this procedure thinking he would have a little tube sticking out of his chest. Well he was a little surprised to see these three, 4 inch tubes hanging from his chest. He expressed his concern to the nurse of what is this thing and she had the perfect explanation. She said, "we often refer to it as an alien trying to escape from your chest." So we call this thing the alien. The central line serves an important purpose and saves the veins in his arms from being tortured several times a week to draw blood. And it works great, when you take it straight from the jugular, there is no problem drawing it real fast, 3 tubes in about 15 seconds. He can also receive medication when necessary and transfusions if they are needed. Kevin and the alien will have plenty of time to bond, since he will have it for maybe 6 months. You will each have to decide what your personal relationship is with Kevin and if you dare ask to see the ALIEN!
Many friends continue to ask what they can do for Kevin. Phone calls, emails, cards, visits, meals, etc. Let me just explain the situation. You are always welcome to call. If I'm not at the hospital, I am usually home and more than happy to talk to you if you call the house. Many of you call Kevin's cell phone. If he is feeling good and feels like talking, he will answer it. We always listen to the messages and appreciate your words of support. What we don't do very well is return phone calls. That doesn't mean you shouldn't try to call us again, it just means some days there are more calls than there is time to talk. Kevin appreciates the uplifting emails and cards he receives. Visits, just aren't possible right now. Kevin sees the house and the hospital. And anyplace with people is pretty much off limits, due to his compromised immune system. Food, Kevin would love food delivery, but that is just not possible. Kevin and I met with a dietitian at the start of this process and I have a pretty long list of guidelines, what he can and can't eat and how it needs to be prepared. Basically, what Kevin gets to eat is whatever I prepare for him. Sad but true. Again, thank you for your thoughts and prayers and that is what matters the most.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Be The Match!
Friday we went to the hospital for a check-up. This will be a regular event, three days a week in fact, so I will tell you a little bit about what happens. As soon as we arrive, they take blood, always three tubes sometimes more. Since Kevin has a central line, that means they don't have to find a vein, they just hook him up and take what they need. We then go to an exam room and wait. Wait for the results from the lab on the blood work. The 40 or so pills a day that Kevin takes, are for many purposes. Several antibiotics, to keep Kevin protected from any bacteria or virus. Two of the medications are needed to keep him from rejecting the donor stem cells. They keep Kevin's immune system low so that his cells won't want to fight the donor cells. It is important that this drug remain at a perfect level at all times, therefore they have to check it 3 times a week and then the number of pills are adjusted accordingly. Other drugs are to protect his organs. The rejection medicine makes his magnesium level low, and low magnesium means trouble for the kidneys. So he has to take magnesium. You can see that this entire process is a balancing act. Enough medicine to ensure that the stem cells graft, but not too much and medicine to protect what the other medicines cause. This is a science and every step of this process has been studied. When the lab work comes back, we meet with a Physician Assistant who goes over the results and examines Kevin. If even the smallest concern arises, then we see the transplant doctors who is in that day. Friday, results were pretty good. Kevin's magnesium was low and they suggested he might need to have someone come to the home and give him magnesium through his line. Kevin said he was willing to increase the number of pills he takes and try that. The hospital called this morning and increased his tacrolimus dose, so we are beginning to understand this ever-changing process.
Kevin feels pretty good today. He still feels a little nauseated throughout the day, particularly when he takes his medications. He doesn't feel like eating much, but knows he has to take the pills, so he tries to make that all work. He has felt a little exhausted, so he just had to rest, which was kind of hard for him. The kids and I were working in the yard and Kevin had a hard time sitting by and watching. This won't be an easy part of the process for Kevin. We had to tell him several times, he couldn't play in the dirt or touch the plants he could only supervise. We're starting to figure out the do's and don'ts of keeping Kevin healthy.
Everyday for the past 8 days I think about the donor. We have been told that day 8 usually the donor's stem cells begin to graft and produce new healthy cells. It is just amazing to me when I think about new healthy cells being produced every day. I wanted to share a little bit more about the process of being a donor. There is a National Bone Marrow Donor Registry. This is where we turned, when Kevin's siblings weren't a match. To be placed on the donor registry, an individual only needs to have a cheek swab. A cheek swab will provide 6 of the 10 indicators of a match. When someone needs a donor they find someone with 6 out of 6 on the list and request that they give blood. With the blood sample they are able to test the other 4 indicators. And when they have found 10 out of 10, they have a match. Once they find the match, then they explain the donation process to the donor and have them sign that they are willing to be a donor. The donor then receives a physical exam to ensure he is healthy enough to donate. Kevin's donor was a 19 or 20 year old young man. That's all we know. We don't know how long he has been on the list, or why he chose to be a donor. I wonder about all those things. Our transplant coordinator then worked with the national registry to request a transplant date. This would be according to the donor's schedule. Everything the donor is required to do all happens wherever the donor lives. The transplant was on a Friday. Monday and Tuesday that week the donor received a neupogen shot which stimulates the stem cells to leave the bone marrow and go into the bloodstream. On Wednesday and Thursday, the donor would go in and have an IV in each arm. One side they take the blood out, the blood goes through a machine and it separates the stem cells from the blood, and then the blood goes back into the donor in the other arm. This is called a peripheral donation. Thursday after the donor donated, the stem cells were flown to SLC for Kevin's transplant on Friday. The donor incurs no medical expenses, those are paid by our health insurance. The donor does give of his time to make those many trips to the hospital. Why do I tell you all this? Our family feels the need to give back. When our schedule at home settles down a little bit, Brandon is considering organizing a donor drive for his Eagle Scout project. We hope many will consider being a donor. You could "BE THE MATCH" that someone like our family needs. We thank you for your prayers for Kevin and I would ask that you also remember the donor in your prayers, he gave a lot and we pray that his life will be blessed for what he so willingly gave to us.
Kevin feels pretty good today. He still feels a little nauseated throughout the day, particularly when he takes his medications. He doesn't feel like eating much, but knows he has to take the pills, so he tries to make that all work. He has felt a little exhausted, so he just had to rest, which was kind of hard for him. The kids and I were working in the yard and Kevin had a hard time sitting by and watching. This won't be an easy part of the process for Kevin. We had to tell him several times, he couldn't play in the dirt or touch the plants he could only supervise. We're starting to figure out the do's and don'ts of keeping Kevin healthy.
Everyday for the past 8 days I think about the donor. We have been told that day 8 usually the donor's stem cells begin to graft and produce new healthy cells. It is just amazing to me when I think about new healthy cells being produced every day. I wanted to share a little bit more about the process of being a donor. There is a National Bone Marrow Donor Registry. This is where we turned, when Kevin's siblings weren't a match. To be placed on the donor registry, an individual only needs to have a cheek swab. A cheek swab will provide 6 of the 10 indicators of a match. When someone needs a donor they find someone with 6 out of 6 on the list and request that they give blood. With the blood sample they are able to test the other 4 indicators. And when they have found 10 out of 10, they have a match. Once they find the match, then they explain the donation process to the donor and have them sign that they are willing to be a donor. The donor then receives a physical exam to ensure he is healthy enough to donate. Kevin's donor was a 19 or 20 year old young man. That's all we know. We don't know how long he has been on the list, or why he chose to be a donor. I wonder about all those things. Our transplant coordinator then worked with the national registry to request a transplant date. This would be according to the donor's schedule. Everything the donor is required to do all happens wherever the donor lives. The transplant was on a Friday. Monday and Tuesday that week the donor received a neupogen shot which stimulates the stem cells to leave the bone marrow and go into the bloodstream. On Wednesday and Thursday, the donor would go in and have an IV in each arm. One side they take the blood out, the blood goes through a machine and it separates the stem cells from the blood, and then the blood goes back into the donor in the other arm. This is called a peripheral donation. Thursday after the donor donated, the stem cells were flown to SLC for Kevin's transplant on Friday. The donor incurs no medical expenses, those are paid by our health insurance. The donor does give of his time to make those many trips to the hospital. Why do I tell you all this? Our family feels the need to give back. When our schedule at home settles down a little bit, Brandon is considering organizing a donor drive for his Eagle Scout project. We hope many will consider being a donor. You could "BE THE MATCH" that someone like our family needs. We thank you for your prayers for Kevin and I would ask that you also remember the donor in your prayers, he gave a lot and we pray that his life will be blessed for what he so willingly gave to us.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Grateful for Kevin's Job
This morning Megan came down the stairs and said, "What is going on down here, what is wrong and why is he so loud." I said well he's on a conference call for work. Megan said "I thought he was sick." Well obviously he's feeling better. I'm sure there are plenty of you who wish you could enjoy a quiet day at home, but the past couple of years have taught us to be really grateful for Kevin's job. Kevin is the provider for our family and when he was diagnosed it caused him great concern. He worried about what cancer would mean for his family. When he started chemo, Kevin would take the day off for chemo and then go back to work the next day. He couldn't get sick, because he was going to work. When chemo went to three days in a row, he would go to work for a half day and then stop by the chemo room. Being able to go to work every day was a blessing and something Kevin has always been grateful for.
Today I want to express gratitude to Kevin's company and his co-workers. You are great. The management of AgReserves, Inc. could not have been more supportive of Kevin's condition. There concern has always been for Kevin to do whatever he needed to do to get well. The feeling of security that we feel about Kevin's job is such a blessing in our lives. There are many things we need to worry about, but not having to worry about Kevin's employment brings great peace to our family. Please know you have made, and will continue to make, Kevin's journey to heal easier because of your support. While Kevin is away from work, I know there are many people helping Kevin with his job and stepping-in to take on extra responsibilities. Thank you all. Thank you to the employees at headquarters and employees from so many farms and ranches who have offered well wishes. We are overwhelmed by your kindnesses. A man's ability to provide for his family is such an important part of who he is and to all of you who are helping Kevin to continue to fulfill his job responsibilities you are a blessing to us. Kevin wants to continue to work at home when he feels able to do so, and I encourage that because otherwise he just gets in my way. So thank you for allowing him to do so. So don't be surprised when he calls you on the phone or sends you an email. That's a good sign, because it means he feels good. And when he's working he seems to feel the best. To have a good job and to be surrounded by supportive co-workers is a tender mercy.
Today I want to express gratitude to Kevin's company and his co-workers. You are great. The management of AgReserves, Inc. could not have been more supportive of Kevin's condition. There concern has always been for Kevin to do whatever he needed to do to get well. The feeling of security that we feel about Kevin's job is such a blessing in our lives. There are many things we need to worry about, but not having to worry about Kevin's employment brings great peace to our family. Please know you have made, and will continue to make, Kevin's journey to heal easier because of your support. While Kevin is away from work, I know there are many people helping Kevin with his job and stepping-in to take on extra responsibilities. Thank you all. Thank you to the employees at headquarters and employees from so many farms and ranches who have offered well wishes. We are overwhelmed by your kindnesses. A man's ability to provide for his family is such an important part of who he is and to all of you who are helping Kevin to continue to fulfill his job responsibilities you are a blessing to us. Kevin wants to continue to work at home when he feels able to do so, and I encourage that because otherwise he just gets in my way. So thank you for allowing him to do so. So don't be surprised when he calls you on the phone or sends you an email. That's a good sign, because it means he feels good. And when he's working he seems to feel the best. To have a good job and to be surrounded by supportive co-workers is a tender mercy.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
He's Home!
Yes, we are home. Kevin is in his own snuggy bed, but the nurse isn't quite as nice as the ones at the hospital. He better say that the food is better, or he might be looking for a different place to hang out for the next 95 days. He impressed the doctor with his calorie intake yesterday and he managed to take all his pills and keep them down, so out the door he went. As he said good-bye to his day nurse she said, "it's been a pleasure taking care of you, but I hope we don't see you back as a patient." That was the nicest thing anyone could have said to us.
Yesterday, during a reflective moment, Kevin said to me, "we need to make a list of everyone we need to send thank you notes to." I told him I can take care of you for 100 days but I can't possibly send thank you cards to everyone we need to thank, that job is just too big. I have come to recognize that no one makes this journey on their own. It would be impossible. One of Kevin's favorite stories is "Footprints in the Sand". I'm sure you all know it. The individual is pondering on life and sees two sets of footprints in the sand, but recognizes that during the hardest times of life there is was only one set of footprints. The individual asks, why did you leave me. I did not leave you that is when I carried you. We are truly being carried and it is the support of family, friends, Kevin's co-workers, neighbors and our ward and stake family that carry us. The Savior teaches us that he will not leave us alone and comfortless, and he has sent you to be there for us. So please allow me in this not-so-personal way to express our gratitude to so many. Please know that every card, every phone call, kind acts, emails of well wishes, good thoughts and most of all your faith and prayers are so appreciated. I wish I could find the right words to express to you what a difference it makes to us. I have had many express to me, "I don't know how you do it?" Honestly, I don't know how either. There is a strength and ability given, that comes from sources that only our Heavenly Father knows. And you are that source. Thank you for allowing the tender mercies of the Lord to be made known to us through you.
Yesterday, during a reflective moment, Kevin said to me, "we need to make a list of everyone we need to send thank you notes to." I told him I can take care of you for 100 days but I can't possibly send thank you cards to everyone we need to thank, that job is just too big. I have come to recognize that no one makes this journey on their own. It would be impossible. One of Kevin's favorite stories is "Footprints in the Sand". I'm sure you all know it. The individual is pondering on life and sees two sets of footprints in the sand, but recognizes that during the hardest times of life there is was only one set of footprints. The individual asks, why did you leave me. I did not leave you that is when I carried you. We are truly being carried and it is the support of family, friends, Kevin's co-workers, neighbors and our ward and stake family that carry us. The Savior teaches us that he will not leave us alone and comfortless, and he has sent you to be there for us. So please allow me in this not-so-personal way to express our gratitude to so many. Please know that every card, every phone call, kind acts, emails of well wishes, good thoughts and most of all your faith and prayers are so appreciated. I wish I could find the right words to express to you what a difference it makes to us. I have had many express to me, "I don't know how you do it?" Honestly, I don't know how either. There is a strength and ability given, that comes from sources that only our Heavenly Father knows. And you are that source. Thank you for allowing the tender mercies of the Lord to be made known to us through you.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
"I'm Singing in the Rain"
Last night when I left Kevin I asked him, "why don't you think about shaving and taking a shower tomorrow." He said he would think about it, which was actually really encouraging. So I arrived this morning, he had eaten half of his breakfast and had told the nurse he wanted a shower. He asked the nurse what she thought of his "rough and tough western guy look". She told him she prefers clean shaven. I had someone on my side. So he shaved and then drug his stand with his three drips to the shower. He told me "if you hear a loud thud, come running", so I was listening intently. And then it started, "I'm singing in the rain, just singing in the rain, what a glorious feeling I'm happy again." What a great sound that was. Kevin has turned the corner. He feels a little better and he has continued to progress throughout the day. He ate half of his lunch. The goal for today is to start taking the medications he needs by mouth rather than receiving them in his central line. In order to go home he has to be able to take the 40 daily pills by mouth and keep them down. He is making good progress and I am happy to be the recipient of his sarcastic humor.
The 8th floor of the hospital is the Bone Marrow transplant floor. There are different types of transplants and they refer to the type of transplant that Kevin received as a "mini" transplant. Even though the doctors are prompt to tell us there is nothing "mini" about it. "Mini" refers to the fact that they don't totally kill his immune system before the transplant. They bring his immune real low, but don't totally eradicate it. The "mini" also is done mainly out-patient and, barring any future complications, Kevin will be allowed to spend the majority of his recovery time at home. The patients on the floor are the patients that receive the full transplant and require hospitalization for weeks or months. Every couple hours I leave this lovely room we are in and go for a walk. Every time I walk I pass the patients on the floor that leave their room several times a day to walk the small loop around the desk. Our three days at the hospital have made me grateful. Grateful that soon Kevin and I will be home enjoying the comforts of our own home and our family. If I hadn't spent this short time in the hospital, maybe I wouldn't be so grateful for this tender mercy.
The 8th floor of the hospital is the Bone Marrow transplant floor. There are different types of transplants and they refer to the type of transplant that Kevin received as a "mini" transplant. Even though the doctors are prompt to tell us there is nothing "mini" about it. "Mini" refers to the fact that they don't totally kill his immune system before the transplant. They bring his immune real low, but don't totally eradicate it. The "mini" also is done mainly out-patient and, barring any future complications, Kevin will be allowed to spend the majority of his recovery time at home. The patients on the floor are the patients that receive the full transplant and require hospitalization for weeks or months. Every couple hours I leave this lovely room we are in and go for a walk. Every time I walk I pass the patients on the floor that leave their room several times a day to walk the small loop around the desk. Our three days at the hospital have made me grateful. Grateful that soon Kevin and I will be home enjoying the comforts of our own home and our family. If I hadn't spent this short time in the hospital, maybe I wouldn't be so grateful for this tender mercy.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Our Kids Are Better than Your Kids
Well maybe just for today! Today if there was a perfect kids contest I would enter ours because they are simply the best. I would probably use their pictures from when they were little because they were really cute then, but maturity, independence and life experiences hasn't treated them too badly.
Kevin is still sick. What else can I say. Today I realize that he is just going to need some TIME. And it just so happens that we don't have anything planned for the next three months, so we do have time. This go around has been a little rougher and adding to the fact that he has all kinds of new medications in his system, he just can't get stabilized. He ate about 5 bites of lunch, the first food he's had for a couple of days and, fingers crossed, it's still down. The team up here on the 8th floor of LDS Hospital are doing everything they can to get him back to good health. If I were to ask Kevin he would probably say, "This is boring!" Last night he pushed the nurses call button and the gal at the desk asked him what she could do for him and he said, "I was just lonely and needed someone to talk too." I'm not sure what that says about my conversation skills, but it says that Kevin's hangin' in there, and still has a sense of humor and we all appreciate that.
So now about those perfect kids we have. Yesterday Kevin and I left for the hospital and the kids went into action. The "firework" incident, as Tiff calls it, required a complete two room cleaning job and some laundry and I just walked out and left it for them. They scoured the bedroom and bathroom, did the laundry, went to church, packed Kevin and overnight bag, packed me a lunch, and headed to the hospital to do what they do best, lift Kevin's spirits. Then after the visit went home and made cookies, which I hope Kevin will soon be able to eat. Seeing our kids in action yesterday reminded me of something I have thought about before. This challenge has come to our family at a time when we have every ability to overcome it. Our kids are all right where they need to be. Tiff has learned to deal with 27 eight year olds, she can certainly take care of Brandon and she does his Spanish homework for him. Meg, the best cleaning lady is home from school to make certain that not one germ gets in our house and Brandon; what perfect timing you have to get your drivers license and be so independent, who needs their mom anymore. And me, well what else do I have to do. I recognize many people have life's greatest challenges at the most inconvenient time, when they have to wonder how they can keep their family functioning, but I see one of the tender mercies of the Lord, in preparing us and allowing us to have our lives in order to accept and overcome this challenge, for that I am grateful.
Tiffany, Megan and Brandon you are and will always be our greatest joy. You are everything we would want you to be and more. The hardest day of your dad's life was the day he had to wonder if he would be there to see many important future days in your lives and that day he committed to do whatever he had to do and go through whatever he had to go through because he will be there. You are the reason your dad has every bit of determination to fight this battle and he will win. He fights for you and because of you and with you. Never forget families are forever!
Kevin is still sick. What else can I say. Today I realize that he is just going to need some TIME. And it just so happens that we don't have anything planned for the next three months, so we do have time. This go around has been a little rougher and adding to the fact that he has all kinds of new medications in his system, he just can't get stabilized. He ate about 5 bites of lunch, the first food he's had for a couple of days and, fingers crossed, it's still down. The team up here on the 8th floor of LDS Hospital are doing everything they can to get him back to good health. If I were to ask Kevin he would probably say, "This is boring!" Last night he pushed the nurses call button and the gal at the desk asked him what she could do for him and he said, "I was just lonely and needed someone to talk too." I'm not sure what that says about my conversation skills, but it says that Kevin's hangin' in there, and still has a sense of humor and we all appreciate that.
So now about those perfect kids we have. Yesterday Kevin and I left for the hospital and the kids went into action. The "firework" incident, as Tiff calls it, required a complete two room cleaning job and some laundry and I just walked out and left it for them. They scoured the bedroom and bathroom, did the laundry, went to church, packed Kevin and overnight bag, packed me a lunch, and headed to the hospital to do what they do best, lift Kevin's spirits. Then after the visit went home and made cookies, which I hope Kevin will soon be able to eat. Seeing our kids in action yesterday reminded me of something I have thought about before. This challenge has come to our family at a time when we have every ability to overcome it. Our kids are all right where they need to be. Tiff has learned to deal with 27 eight year olds, she can certainly take care of Brandon and she does his Spanish homework for him. Meg, the best cleaning lady is home from school to make certain that not one germ gets in our house and Brandon; what perfect timing you have to get your drivers license and be so independent, who needs their mom anymore. And me, well what else do I have to do. I recognize many people have life's greatest challenges at the most inconvenient time, when they have to wonder how they can keep their family functioning, but I see one of the tender mercies of the Lord, in preparing us and allowing us to have our lives in order to accept and overcome this challenge, for that I am grateful.
Tiffany, Megan and Brandon you are and will always be our greatest joy. You are everything we would want you to be and more. The hardest day of your dad's life was the day he had to wonder if he would be there to see many important future days in your lives and that day he committed to do whatever he had to do and go through whatever he had to go through because he will be there. You are the reason your dad has every bit of determination to fight this battle and he will win. He fights for you and because of you and with you. Never forget families are forever!
Sunday, May 15, 2011
There will be ups and downs on this journey!
Long before any patient reaches the point of having a transplant there are many consultations with doctors, nurses, coordinators, specialists etc. and etc. Every consultation with a doctor includes a detailed explanation of what this process entails and includes the words there will be ups and there will be downs. Late Saturday afternoon Kevin said to me, "I will make it through this." He wasn't feeling one bit better. We put our hopes into Sunday morning. This morning at 7:00 Kevin said I feel a little better and I know I need to eat something today. So we started with some anti-nausea medication, gave that 30 minutes, then went to chicken broth and so far so good. I left for church and left Tiff in charge of making sure all 15 pills got in Kevin and I warned him that if he threw up the pills he would be going to the hospital. She was up for the job! About 10 minutes into church, my phone vibrates and Megan has sent me a message that he threw them all up and it was bad. When I arrive home he is not happy. I told him I was calling the Bone Marrow Clinic and he said "no" just get me some meds and we'll be ok. The longer I thought about it, that didn't work for me. So I told him I was overruling him and I called the hospital. Rachael was on staff and she was well of aware of Kevin's condition because she was the nurse that gave him the stem cells on Friday. I explained the situation and she expressed her concerns to me and said we needed to come into the hospital. I told her she needed to be the one to explain that to Kevin and in such a nice way she convinced him. At the hospital they gave him fluids and took blood to check all his medicine levels. This battle going on inside Kevin between his cells and the new donor cells requires a perfect balance of the medication needed to assure that Kevin accepts the new stem cells. The transplant team consists of 6 doctors and one of them are on the 8th floor of the hospital at all times. Dr. Hoda explained to Kevin that it's really important at this critical stage that they get him feeling better and stronger and in a condition that he can take the needed medications. So he admitted him to the hospital for a couple of days to do just that. For me this is a good thing. Kevin couldn't continue to fight that sick battle on his own. At the hospital all the meds are given through his central line, along with fluids and anti-nausea medicine and everything he needs to get over the effects of that horrible chemo drug. So I write from the hospital where Kevin is resting so comfortably. It is good to see him resting and where they can help him better than I can. He didn't want to come, but he sure has slept well since being here and that's a good sign for me.
On a lighter note Tiff wants to add the Katy Perry song "Firework" to this posting of the blog because she said that explains perfectly what happened with those 15 pills she worked so hard to get in him and she has permanently resigned as the step-in at-home nurse, so Megan watch out you are next in line.
On a lighter note Tiff wants to add the Katy Perry song "Firework" to this posting of the blog because she said that explains perfectly what happened with those 15 pills she worked so hard to get in him and she has permanently resigned as the step-in at-home nurse, so Megan watch out you are next in line.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
A NEW LIFE - Day 1
Happy Birthday Kevin! Those were the words yesterday of our transplant coordinator. She had previously told us that transplant patients celebrate two birthday's; original birth and their new birth. Our family will now celebrate May 13th as Kevin's new life day and we will think most about the young man who on this day gave Kevin the gift of life. In medical terms transplant day is day 0 and today, Saturday is day 1. So today I start this blog for family, friends, Kevin's co-workers, neighbors and all who love Kevin.
So transplant day and day 1 for me are really good days. I have a wonderful, peaceful feeling and my heart is so full of gratitude for our donor. I will probably say "our" and "us" a lot even though it is Kevin going through this process, but what the donor gave was far more than just a gift to Kevin, it was a gift to our entire family.
But, what you all really want to know is how is Kevin doing. Kevin is sick, really sick. Not because of the transplant but because of the three days of chemo that was given to him on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Flubardine is the chemo drug that Kevin never hopes to ever see another day of his life. He had this drug during his last chemo regimen and it makes him horribly sick. Kevin and I were really concerned about him receiving this drug for 3 days and then knowing that the pattern would be that on Friday, radiation and transplant day, he would be so sick he wouldn't be able to get out of bed. The doctor told us he would construct a "cocktail" of anti-nausea drugs to prevent this horrible sickness. We were hopeful, but I know Kevin was hesitant to think he could be so lucky, and he wasn't. Friday morning Kevin got up and he was sick. He tried real hard to think he was going to be fine, but all the positive thinking in the world, wouldn't make it go away. We drove to the hospital with bowl in hand and arrived at 12:30. Kevin's first question of the nurse attending him was, "Are my stem cells here? because if their not here, I'm not having radiation." The nurse replied, "Of course your stem cells are in the city." Recognizing he was sick, he started off with a drip of anti-nausea medicine and then we went down to radiation for his full body imaging which was to take 30 minutes. Kevin had on his good face, you have all seen it, and they began radiation. Kevin has to stand the entire time radiation is given and on minute 27 Kevin indicated that he wasn't doing well. They stopped radiation, found his blood pressure had sky rocketed and his heart rate dropped significantly. They immediately put him into a bed to rest. Which he did for about 30 minutes and then back to finish the last 3 minutes or radiation. The transplant team upstairs was notified of the delay and Kevin's status and the team notified the Red Cross to hold off on delivering the stem cells until 4:00 p.m. He was wheel-chaired upstairs where they immediately gave him 2 bags of fluids and time to rest, which he did. He was horribly sick and trying real hard to simply hang in there while being rather anxious about being well enough to receive the cells. At this point I don't think there would be any condition that would stop this team from administering the stem cells, they were too hard to get. In a couple of days when the horrible affects of chemo are gone, I look forward to sharing with Kevin the significance of this day. He was simply to sick to feel the emotion that I felt. His emotions could only be about being strong enough to do what he had to do.
Kevin and I sat in a dark room for about 30 minutes and he rested. At 3:55 p.m. the door opened and in walked a woman wheeling a large box, marked "American Red Cross -- Live Blood Cells". I watched with great anxiousness to see those stem cells. She began to unpack the box which was carefully packaged and lifted off a large Styrofoam piece that secured the valued cells, she then removed a large bag which I first wondered if it were the cells, it was only the ice pack that they had been packed with, and finally she brought out a small bag, that looked liked every other bag he has had dripped into him over the past 2 years, only this bag was smaller than anything he had ever received. It was only filled half full, but inside was filled with rich, red colored cells that looked to me pretty much like blood. It was a very emotional moment for me, one that I maybe had not expected, but I knew that that bag contained Kevin's new life and recognizing that it had come from a complete stranger that has never met us or doesn't know anything about our family my heart was so full of gratitude. The science of medicine is remarkable. Kevin's nurse and the Red Cross employee then checked, double checked and triple checked ID numbers and completed several forms to be certain that these stem cells were going to the right recipient. At 4:05 p.m. the nurse hooked up the bag to Kevin's central line and it began to drip. The nurse said, "Kevin this is it, these are your new stem cells." At that very moment across the hospital intercom the music began to play, it was the music that plays to announce the birth of a new baby. WOW! I thought, there is New Life all around me at this very moment. At 4:30 it was completed. He had the cells. This miraculous thing we call our bodies just knows what to do. Those stem cells know where to go, they flow through the blood and find their way into the bone marrow where they will begin their battle. The battle between Kevin's current cells and the new cells that we want to take over and become Kevin. Each of our bodies are unique and don't want to accept anything foreign, but all the medications Kevin is taking is to confuse both his current immune system and the immune system of the donor and allow them to live together until the donor's immune system can take over and Kevin will have the immune system of the donor, one that is free of cancer. It goes without saying that it was a very spiritual moment for me, one that so many faithful people had prayed and fasted for and so much faith exercised in Kevin's behalf. It had happened. Another miracle!
Kevin was still sick. He rested for another 30 minutes, being watched to ensure that he didn't have any type of reaction to the stem cells. His vitals were all good and we were able to go home. Kevin's night at home was pretty long and this morning we made the trip back to the hospital to have his blood checked to make sure the levels of the immunosuppressant drugs are what they should be. He managed to get the 15 pills down that he takes each morning at 9:00 a.m. and we just hope they stay right where they are supposed to, and he is resting. For Kevin, he might call tomorrow his "New Life" day because this ugly pattern of chemo sickness will be so much better by then and he will begin to feel what this transplant means for him.
So that is Day 0 and Day 1 and they are good days! Days filled with gratitude for so many "tender mercies" from the Lord that have allowed us to be where we are. I call this blog "tender mercies" because that is what this 2 year journey has been for me and I know will continue to be. In April 2005 Elder Bednar said, "I know that He lives and that His tender mercies are available to all of us. Each of us can have eyes to see clearly and ears to hear distinctly the tender mercies of the Lord as they strengthen and assist us in these latter days. May our hearts aways be filled with gratitude for His abundant and tender mercies." I write for 3 reasons. First, so those who love Kevin most can keep updated on his journey. Second for myself. I want to always be grateful and I want to always remember the tender mercies of the Lord so abundantly given to our family. And third I write for my children and my children's children. In October 2007 President Eyring told us to" Remember, Remember". He explained why he wrote and it was because of an experience that he had where he heard these words in his mind, "I'm not giving you these experiences for yourself. Write them down." President Eyring reminds us that "forgetting God has been a persistent problem among His children" and "the challenge to remember has always been hardest for those who are blessed abundantly." Our family has been abundantly blessed by so many around us and I don't want to ever forget nor do I want my posterity to ever forget. And so I write.
So transplant day and day 1 for me are really good days. I have a wonderful, peaceful feeling and my heart is so full of gratitude for our donor. I will probably say "our" and "us" a lot even though it is Kevin going through this process, but what the donor gave was far more than just a gift to Kevin, it was a gift to our entire family.
But, what you all really want to know is how is Kevin doing. Kevin is sick, really sick. Not because of the transplant but because of the three days of chemo that was given to him on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Flubardine is the chemo drug that Kevin never hopes to ever see another day of his life. He had this drug during his last chemo regimen and it makes him horribly sick. Kevin and I were really concerned about him receiving this drug for 3 days and then knowing that the pattern would be that on Friday, radiation and transplant day, he would be so sick he wouldn't be able to get out of bed. The doctor told us he would construct a "cocktail" of anti-nausea drugs to prevent this horrible sickness. We were hopeful, but I know Kevin was hesitant to think he could be so lucky, and he wasn't. Friday morning Kevin got up and he was sick. He tried real hard to think he was going to be fine, but all the positive thinking in the world, wouldn't make it go away. We drove to the hospital with bowl in hand and arrived at 12:30. Kevin's first question of the nurse attending him was, "Are my stem cells here? because if their not here, I'm not having radiation." The nurse replied, "Of course your stem cells are in the city." Recognizing he was sick, he started off with a drip of anti-nausea medicine and then we went down to radiation for his full body imaging which was to take 30 minutes. Kevin had on his good face, you have all seen it, and they began radiation. Kevin has to stand the entire time radiation is given and on minute 27 Kevin indicated that he wasn't doing well. They stopped radiation, found his blood pressure had sky rocketed and his heart rate dropped significantly. They immediately put him into a bed to rest. Which he did for about 30 minutes and then back to finish the last 3 minutes or radiation. The transplant team upstairs was notified of the delay and Kevin's status and the team notified the Red Cross to hold off on delivering the stem cells until 4:00 p.m. He was wheel-chaired upstairs where they immediately gave him 2 bags of fluids and time to rest, which he did. He was horribly sick and trying real hard to simply hang in there while being rather anxious about being well enough to receive the cells. At this point I don't think there would be any condition that would stop this team from administering the stem cells, they were too hard to get. In a couple of days when the horrible affects of chemo are gone, I look forward to sharing with Kevin the significance of this day. He was simply to sick to feel the emotion that I felt. His emotions could only be about being strong enough to do what he had to do.
Kevin and I sat in a dark room for about 30 minutes and he rested. At 3:55 p.m. the door opened and in walked a woman wheeling a large box, marked "American Red Cross -- Live Blood Cells". I watched with great anxiousness to see those stem cells. She began to unpack the box which was carefully packaged and lifted off a large Styrofoam piece that secured the valued cells, she then removed a large bag which I first wondered if it were the cells, it was only the ice pack that they had been packed with, and finally she brought out a small bag, that looked liked every other bag he has had dripped into him over the past 2 years, only this bag was smaller than anything he had ever received. It was only filled half full, but inside was filled with rich, red colored cells that looked to me pretty much like blood. It was a very emotional moment for me, one that I maybe had not expected, but I knew that that bag contained Kevin's new life and recognizing that it had come from a complete stranger that has never met us or doesn't know anything about our family my heart was so full of gratitude. The science of medicine is remarkable. Kevin's nurse and the Red Cross employee then checked, double checked and triple checked ID numbers and completed several forms to be certain that these stem cells were going to the right recipient. At 4:05 p.m. the nurse hooked up the bag to Kevin's central line and it began to drip. The nurse said, "Kevin this is it, these are your new stem cells." At that very moment across the hospital intercom the music began to play, it was the music that plays to announce the birth of a new baby. WOW! I thought, there is New Life all around me at this very moment. At 4:30 it was completed. He had the cells. This miraculous thing we call our bodies just knows what to do. Those stem cells know where to go, they flow through the blood and find their way into the bone marrow where they will begin their battle. The battle between Kevin's current cells and the new cells that we want to take over and become Kevin. Each of our bodies are unique and don't want to accept anything foreign, but all the medications Kevin is taking is to confuse both his current immune system and the immune system of the donor and allow them to live together until the donor's immune system can take over and Kevin will have the immune system of the donor, one that is free of cancer. It goes without saying that it was a very spiritual moment for me, one that so many faithful people had prayed and fasted for and so much faith exercised in Kevin's behalf. It had happened. Another miracle!
Kevin was still sick. He rested for another 30 minutes, being watched to ensure that he didn't have any type of reaction to the stem cells. His vitals were all good and we were able to go home. Kevin's night at home was pretty long and this morning we made the trip back to the hospital to have his blood checked to make sure the levels of the immunosuppressant drugs are what they should be. He managed to get the 15 pills down that he takes each morning at 9:00 a.m. and we just hope they stay right where they are supposed to, and he is resting. For Kevin, he might call tomorrow his "New Life" day because this ugly pattern of chemo sickness will be so much better by then and he will begin to feel what this transplant means for him.
So that is Day 0 and Day 1 and they are good days! Days filled with gratitude for so many "tender mercies" from the Lord that have allowed us to be where we are. I call this blog "tender mercies" because that is what this 2 year journey has been for me and I know will continue to be. In April 2005 Elder Bednar said, "I know that He lives and that His tender mercies are available to all of us. Each of us can have eyes to see clearly and ears to hear distinctly the tender mercies of the Lord as they strengthen and assist us in these latter days. May our hearts aways be filled with gratitude for His abundant and tender mercies." I write for 3 reasons. First, so those who love Kevin most can keep updated on his journey. Second for myself. I want to always be grateful and I want to always remember the tender mercies of the Lord so abundantly given to our family. And third I write for my children and my children's children. In October 2007 President Eyring told us to" Remember, Remember". He explained why he wrote and it was because of an experience that he had where he heard these words in his mind, "I'm not giving you these experiences for yourself. Write them down." President Eyring reminds us that "forgetting God has been a persistent problem among His children" and "the challenge to remember has always been hardest for those who are blessed abundantly." Our family has been abundantly blessed by so many around us and I don't want to ever forget nor do I want my posterity to ever forget. And so I write.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Letter to the Donor! Pre-transplant
Dear Mr. Donor:
I don't know your name. I don't know where in this big world you are or what you are doing. Today I wish I knew how to contact you and tell you a million thing but because I can't I want to tell my Dad's story. I only wish that this could thank you in some small way for what your about to do for my Dad.
My Dad has been battling non-hodgkins lymphoma cancer for a while now. When the cancer was found the prognosis was pretty rough. The cancer was through my Dad's entire body. They began aggressive chemotherapy treatments which worked well. My Dad is young and has a lot of life to live. After one of his treatments when people would ask him how he was he would often say, "fair to middlin" or "just happy to be alive". I have never heard my Dad say that he was sick or complain. He is a very patient man and endures well. Just a few short months after his treatments were over with his cancer came back and he then became a candidate for a bone marrow transplant.
The second round of chemotherapy was a little harder on him. He had some severe reactions to some of the drugs he was taking and the higher doses of chemotherapy made him even sicker but my Dad never complained. Even to his own family when they would call or inquire... he would say, "I'm just peachy keen!" We knew for a while that my Dad was going to need a transplant but how soon we weren't aware.
The time finally came and my Dad elected to have a life saving and cancer ending transplant. This alternative will be a CURE for the cancer and the only way for my Dad to be cancer free. All of my Dad's eligible siblings were tested and it was a very sad day when, one by one, their tests came back negative. The doctors told us that we would have to look to the national bone marrow donor list to find a match because at this point it was going to be like finding a "needle in a haystack."
This is the part when I began to wonder just what it was that Heavenly Father wanted my family to learn from this never ending trail we are going through. I remember the day that I found out my Dad was sick. I was living in Chile at the time serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My family called me up and my Dad told me over the phone. I was devastated and my heart ached for the pain and suffering that my family was going through. Right then, for some reason, I had felt that my Dad would be ok. When we reached this point in his treatment... I began to doubt that initial feeling I had. It seemed impossible now that this was ever going to end.
I remember asking my Mom every couple of days if we had heard anything more about a donor or about a transplant. Every day she would tell me no... we are still waiting. Until finally one day I came home from school and my mom said dad had some news. It was his birthday and we sat down at the dining room table to eat cake and my dad told us he needed to read us an email. His nurse from the bone marrow transplant team had sent him something earlier that morning. He began to read the email... "Kevin: we are happy to inform you that a match has been found and the donor has agreed to take part in the procedure." My eyes filled with tears and the wait was over. Happy birthday to Kevey Love!!!
So it began. My Dad started the process of meeting with nutritionists, psychologists, and other specialists on the transplant team to get him ready for this life changing event. He has been traveling and and tying up lose ends at work in preparation for the time off he will need to heal. Most importantly he just keeps being our Dad. We keep living. He goes to the Sports Mall with us and tries to play racket ball. He wouldn't miss one of Brandon's basketball games. He hasn't missed a meeting for his church calling and hasn't missed a Sunday at church. Today we did yard work together for Mother's Day. We went to dinner... we just were a regular family. Like nothing is wrong and that's how it should be. I consider every single day I have with my Dad another blessing from my Heavenly Father. You don't realize just how fragile life is... at least I didn't until I was forced, one day while I was Chile thousands of miles away from my family, to think about what it would be like if my Dad was gone. We have tried as a family to keep living our lives and live them like every day matters just a little bit more.
So... here we are. This Friday is the day.... the day we anticipate and celebrate. Friday is a day we have waited for for a long time. It is a day we will remember for a long time. The day that someone who we don't even know will decide to give the greatest gift he will ever give to another human being. The gift of a second chance at life. Mr. Donor, we know one thing about you. We know that you are a 19 or 20 year old male. And we know (from my mom's deductive reasoning) that you probably live somewhere on the east cost. The Pasker family would just like to tell you that on Friday you are making it possible to save the life of a father, a husband, a son, a brother, an uncle and a good man. On behalf of my family and surly from my father, we are eturnaly grateful that somewhere during your walk of life you accepted to be a bone marrow donor and that by doing this you have impacted the lives of one family in Sandy, Utah forever.
Our warmest regards,
The Pasker Family
I don't know your name. I don't know where in this big world you are or what you are doing. Today I wish I knew how to contact you and tell you a million thing but because I can't I want to tell my Dad's story. I only wish that this could thank you in some small way for what your about to do for my Dad.
My Dad has been battling non-hodgkins lymphoma cancer for a while now. When the cancer was found the prognosis was pretty rough. The cancer was through my Dad's entire body. They began aggressive chemotherapy treatments which worked well. My Dad is young and has a lot of life to live. After one of his treatments when people would ask him how he was he would often say, "fair to middlin" or "just happy to be alive". I have never heard my Dad say that he was sick or complain. He is a very patient man and endures well. Just a few short months after his treatments were over with his cancer came back and he then became a candidate for a bone marrow transplant.
The second round of chemotherapy was a little harder on him. He had some severe reactions to some of the drugs he was taking and the higher doses of chemotherapy made him even sicker but my Dad never complained. Even to his own family when they would call or inquire... he would say, "I'm just peachy keen!" We knew for a while that my Dad was going to need a transplant but how soon we weren't aware.
The time finally came and my Dad elected to have a life saving and cancer ending transplant. This alternative will be a CURE for the cancer and the only way for my Dad to be cancer free. All of my Dad's eligible siblings were tested and it was a very sad day when, one by one, their tests came back negative. The doctors told us that we would have to look to the national bone marrow donor list to find a match because at this point it was going to be like finding a "needle in a haystack."
This is the part when I began to wonder just what it was that Heavenly Father wanted my family to learn from this never ending trail we are going through. I remember the day that I found out my Dad was sick. I was living in Chile at the time serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My family called me up and my Dad told me over the phone. I was devastated and my heart ached for the pain and suffering that my family was going through. Right then, for some reason, I had felt that my Dad would be ok. When we reached this point in his treatment... I began to doubt that initial feeling I had. It seemed impossible now that this was ever going to end.
I remember asking my Mom every couple of days if we had heard anything more about a donor or about a transplant. Every day she would tell me no... we are still waiting. Until finally one day I came home from school and my mom said dad had some news. It was his birthday and we sat down at the dining room table to eat cake and my dad told us he needed to read us an email. His nurse from the bone marrow transplant team had sent him something earlier that morning. He began to read the email... "Kevin: we are happy to inform you that a match has been found and the donor has agreed to take part in the procedure." My eyes filled with tears and the wait was over. Happy birthday to Kevey Love!!!
So it began. My Dad started the process of meeting with nutritionists, psychologists, and other specialists on the transplant team to get him ready for this life changing event. He has been traveling and and tying up lose ends at work in preparation for the time off he will need to heal. Most importantly he just keeps being our Dad. We keep living. He goes to the Sports Mall with us and tries to play racket ball. He wouldn't miss one of Brandon's basketball games. He hasn't missed a meeting for his church calling and hasn't missed a Sunday at church. Today we did yard work together for Mother's Day. We went to dinner... we just were a regular family. Like nothing is wrong and that's how it should be. I consider every single day I have with my Dad another blessing from my Heavenly Father. You don't realize just how fragile life is... at least I didn't until I was forced, one day while I was Chile thousands of miles away from my family, to think about what it would be like if my Dad was gone. We have tried as a family to keep living our lives and live them like every day matters just a little bit more.
So... here we are. This Friday is the day.... the day we anticipate and celebrate. Friday is a day we have waited for for a long time. It is a day we will remember for a long time. The day that someone who we don't even know will decide to give the greatest gift he will ever give to another human being. The gift of a second chance at life. Mr. Donor, we know one thing about you. We know that you are a 19 or 20 year old male. And we know (from my mom's deductive reasoning) that you probably live somewhere on the east cost. The Pasker family would just like to tell you that on Friday you are making it possible to save the life of a father, a husband, a son, a brother, an uncle and a good man. On behalf of my family and surly from my father, we are eturnaly grateful that somewhere during your walk of life you accepted to be a bone marrow donor and that by doing this you have impacted the lives of one family in Sandy, Utah forever.
Our warmest regards,
The Pasker Family
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