During my journey with CML I have heard so many horror stories. I have seen terrible things. Watching fellow patients that I had met suffer and succumb to the disease. Friends of mine, their parents, relatives and children… succumb to the various forms that are Leukemia. Some of the saddest stories I encountered were those concerning donor possibilities. Families so fractured that they refused to be tested to be potential donors for their immediate family members.To choose to be unavailable or just unwilling to be the potential lifeline for a bone marrow transplant for a family member, especially a brother or sister? How sad is that. There are movements all over the world to enlist potential unrelated and anonymous donors through drives and media where people are unselfishly excited to become a life saving hero. Yet, I found out that these family divisions exist more frequently than you would know. This wasn’t the case in my family.
I knew that my siblings would be there for me. They were ready and able and excited to be tested and possibly be the one to save my life. We know that my brother Glenn would be the eventual winner. Sure, we all all had our differences, arguments, disagreements and tiffs growing up. We still do. I know that no matter what though, we will always back each other up. This time, the DLI would be worse for Glenn than me. Not as bad as the first procedure, but it would suck.
It was now mid September. We made our way up to the 15th floor of Hannahmen Hospital. It was DLI day. Today I would receive the new lymphocytes generated from Glenn’s blood that would hopefully stimulate my failing transplant. After some basic blood testing and consult with Dr. Dave, we made our way down to the Pheresis lab to get started. I felt really bad for my brother. I watched after he was hooked up to the machine. How he had to constantly squeeze a tennis ball to keep the blood flowing. This went on for hours. There was nothing that I had to do but wait. When it was finally my turn to receive, like Brady to Gronk, I laid there for the TD and watched the life saving plasma enter my veins. Along with some Benadryl and Saline, we waited until the concoction slowly and effortlessly drained in its entirety. As my brother rested and my family waited in the lounge, I waited for any strange or dangerous reaction to occur. Everything was going well. No severe allergic reactions or negative reactions were apparent and after about four or five hours we were able to be on our way. Both patients, Glenn and I, would need to rest for a day and take it easy. Thanks and sorry again bro.
I would need to begin the weekly hospital visits again. The frequent aspiration testing again. The constant and unrelenting bouts of anxiety again. Not just for me though, for everyone in my family too. This was uncharted territory. A positive response was so key. Good times and bad. We we’re all in.
Next up: Hey Coach