Author: Jgknjlapk

The monotonous day to day of laying around and watching TV was really getting to me. I was starting to get stronger and eating more regularly. It felt good to finally feel good. Well… a lot better than I had. I’ve had a few other appointments with Dr. Dave since the Flyers event and my bloodwork has steadily improved and my weight slowly gaining. It had been four weeks now since I have seen my boys and this was just too long. It was time to go home. Dr. Dave agreed.

Lori had our bedroom all set for me and everything set up for my ongoing recuperation. Everything had to be sanitized, no fresh vegetables in the house as well as any other items that could compromise my condition. I was so excited to be able to be with my family again. Three months was just way too long. My Dad and Mom were going to be taking me home on Saturday, just two more days. They did such a great job helping me out. My in laws did a great job at our house helping Lor too. And thank God for Karen! Karen Garlick was just phenomenal! This young lady helped us take care of Nick since he was a baby and now both boys. Nanny extraordinaire. At this point, I don’t think she knew what she had signed up for. Dedicated and dependable, we could always count on her. She would be so important to the ongoing situation in our home. Karen, thank you for all you did for us. You are amazing. Now, time to get home.

Saturday came and I was ready to go. Packed up, in the car, on our way. Nick was so exited when I got there. I hugged that kid so hard I could have crushed him. After I finally let him go, probably like ten minutes, I got to hold my littler guy. It was the first time I held him since he was born the month prior. So small and beautiful he was. He had grown so much in one month though. It was a very emotional and overwhelming moment for me. I had survived a lengthy, horrible, painful, debilitating operation that took me away from my family for three months. It tested me to the limits of my existence and challenged my body and mind like nothing you can imagine. No matter what Leukemia threw at me though, there was no way it would take me from my boys. There was a long way to go though. It started now. I’m home, I’m stronger, I’m alive and I am ready to live! I would be eating dinner with Lori and the boys tonight. Just us. It would be glorious. Even if I still couldn’t taste anything yet. I got to help Lor put the boys in for a nap. Feed little Joe a bottle and lay him down to sleep. I couldnt wait to be their Daddy again. I slipped into the bathroom, my bathroom, to take a shower and decompress. I’m not ashamed to say that after I shut that bathroom door and turned the water on, I lost it. These were long awaited tears of joy. Tears of pain. Tears of fear. I knew that I was a strong person. I knew that I could keep going. Keep fighting. Keep improving. And keep loving. Loving my family so much.

Time to get ready for dinner. To get the boys up and ready at the table. To sit with my amazing wife and enjoy so much an everyday normal practice. Eating a meal, in my home, at my table, with my family. We laughed so much and Nick filled me in on all that I had missed. He was such a smart kid. Joe, not so much. At one month old, he wasn’t big on conversation. Lol. And finally, after dinner, I would be sleeping in my own bed for the first time in ninety days. Next to my beautiful wife. Hallelujah! But , Wait…its 2 am. Who’s crying ? Do I really have to get up and take care of Joey? Damn right! I got this Lor. My pleasure. Hey little guy…how about a warm bottle and a smooth rendition of The Carpenters …”Close to You”. ” On the day that you were born the Angels got together….”. The perfect song. Worked every time. Goodnight buddy. A kiss for you, a check on Nick and a kiss for him. Goodnight, let me get some rest.

Next up: Feeling like I just got shot!

My appointment ended with good results and a sense of accomplishment. I was weak but coming along as expected. Dr. Dave was pleased with my progress. Enough with that…let’s go meet the Flyers! Dr. Dave would be the MC for the day. He was very excited.

The office waiting room was cleared out and set up for the event. Mostly fold up chairs with a podium at the front. I recognized many of the players. As I wrote before, hockey was a big part of my life. A passion of mine since I was nine years old. My Dad took me to my first game ever… Flyers vs Minnesota North Stars..1969. I watched the North Stars Goalie, Gump Worsley, take a slapshot right to the forehead. Goalies didnt wear face masks yet. Idiots. Passed out flat on the ice, blood everywhere. I was hooked. My Dad and I took up a spot halfway from the front now along the window wall of the waiting room. I had a baseball cap covering my bald head and a surgical mask across my face. There were maybe fifty people there including two other Leukemia patients that I recognized from my appointments. After the meet, the Flyers players would gown up and head to the unit.

Terry Murray, the Flyers coach, along with many players from the team were there. Eric Desjardins, John LeClair, Michel Petit, Chris Therein, Danius Zubrus, Mikael Renburg, Vinny Prospal, Rod Brindemour and many others. They looked so young. Dr. Dave opened up the day with a welcome and a speech that opened the players eyes to the research, treatment options, costs, patient outcomes and the overall operations of a cutting edge cancer center. Pretty good showing Dr. Dave. He had a few of the other Doctors speak along with some of the administration and big donors to the center. Then he stuck it to me. ” I would like to introduce you to a fellow hockey player and our most recent graduate from the transplant unit”. ” Come on up Jeff”. Holy shit.

He didn’t warn me. I wasn’t prepared to give a speech! I looked awful! So, here goes nothing. I looked out at the room and began to speak. I thanked them all for coming today and how much it means to everyone there that they use their time and celebrity to further the cause raising money, awareness and support for the Leukemia Society of America and the Barry Ashbee Center. I told them that besides not being able to see my family while I was recuperating, that I missed being on the ice so much. Dr. Dave stepped in and guaranteed me that I would be ready for the next season. They all clapped and shouted encouragement. “Thanks Dave”. And then I hit them. I said, ” Never take for granted every second that you get to be on that ice. You are some of the best players in the world”. ” You’ve worked hard and prove yourselves every game. That talent is a privilege that most of us will never have or know”. “As a player most of my life, I respect you guys so much, its a tough game. For me, I wish every day, that sooner or later I will be able to lace my skates up again and play the game that I love so much”. Bam! There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. They were all crying. Big babies. A very emotional moment. I held back my tears the best that I could. Dr. Dave gave me a hug as the players and attendees were all standing and giving me a heartfelt ovation. I made my way back to my spot along the wall with my Dad and sat down on the chair. Rod Brindemour, the current coach of the Carolina Hurricanes, came up to me and gave me a big hug. He leaned in and said ” Great job bud, I know you will be out there next year kicking ass”. A bunch of other players came over to shake my hand and offer their best wishes. We got some autographs and mingled some more before the guys had to head to the Bone Marrow Transplant unit. It was a good day.

Next up: Heading Home

After the excitement of the terrible weekend flooding had passed, the monotonous recuperation period continued. On Monday, a visiting nurse arrived to check out my condition, vitals, catheter site, etc. Everything was coming along and rest was the best medicine at this point. I still wasn’t able to see my boys. The transplant posed an unusual situation in that after receiving the chemotherapy necessary to eradicate my marrow, every vaccination I had ever received became void. I would have to be given all new vaccinations for Measles, Mumps, Chicken Pox, Tetanus, etc. In addition, Joseph would have to receive all of his newborn vaccinations in the dead form. Very unusual for the times. Live vaccinations would expose me to those viruses when I was able to go home since it would be approximately six months before I could start my new regimen. Another reason for the quarantine. I had to go see Dr. Dave in a few days for my next appointment. There was much to discuss.

At this point, I was twelve days post transplant release and four days post release from my second stay at the ranch. I still looked the part of the prototypical cancer patient and sure felt that way. My next appointment would let me know how things were going. The day before the appointment I received a call from Dr. Dave’s office to ask if I would be able to stay after for a special surprise. The office would be closing early at 12 noon and I was asked to attend a luncheon afterwards. Interesting.

The morning of my appointment, my Dad and I made our way to the hospital with a drive that was all too familiar and tedious as the traffic always sucked. The office at I. Brodsky and Associates was buzzing! There was excitement in the air and the staff was moving the morning patients in and out quickly. The routine saw me seated in the hall where Leslie, the blood sucker/Phlebotomist, would take my blood. This was a first for me since my catheter was gone. I needed to be stuck every visit now. I would get to know Leslie very well. Next, to the scale. Ok then, 142 lbs. Progress made. Moving on to the exam room, one of about fifteen past the outpatient chemo rooms and lab. More vitals and some questions from the Oncology Residents and then the obligatory “Yo Keenan” from the doorway… Dr. Dave announcing his entrance. Such a happy guy all of the time. An appropriate facade, designated to fill you with comfort and hope. I don’t know how he kept it up with so much misery around him everyday. He was pretty good at it though. Today, he was especially upbeat. Our discussion led quickly to his thoughts on my returning home to my family and my recuperation going forward. As long as I continued to improve and progress as I was doing, it wouldn’t be much longer until I could see my boys and be sleeping in my own bed.

The office of I. Brodsky and Associates was also known by another name. “THE BARRY ASHBEE PHILADELPHIA FLYERS FIGHT FOR LIVES LEUKEMIA CENTER”. This named for Flyers All Star Defenseman Barry Ashbee who was diagnosed with Leukemia during his career with the Flyers. Unfortunately, it ended his career and he succumbed to this insidious disease. The Flyers organization has sponsored the office and the fight against all forms of Leukemia since. The ” Flyers Wives Fight for Lives” organization holds an annual carnival at the Philadelphia Spectrum, now the Wells Fargo Center to raise money for all charities involving Leukemia. Every year since the inception of the charity, the Flyers organization would have a contingency of staff, players and coaches come down to the Ashbee/ Brodsky office for a day and visit with many of the patients currently enduring treatment in the Bone Marrow Transplant unit. A chance for the young players to see for themselves how devastating and difficult the procedures and disease itself were to the patients fighting Leukemia. The reason that they participated in the carnival and whom they were helping. Also, to justify the precious free time they were giving to the cause. Eye opening for these young athletes to say the least. Also, a pick me up for the very sick patients and the hard working staff who lovingly and diligently man the front lines fighting Leukemia. AND… TODAY WAS THAT DAY!

Next up: Meeting the Philadelphia Flyers

It was Friday morning and Dr. Dave came in early to let me know that I would be getting the hell out of there. This was great news since I was so tired of this place. I just needed to let my parents know that I would be coming home. My blood counts were stable, no fever and no major GVHD issues. All was good for the time being and I felt somewhat ok. I was still having issues with eating, my mouth was very tender with sores and everything still tasted horrible. This was the norm though. Watermelon, Honeydew, Canteloupe and Goldfish crackers. The chemo diet. Lol. The only things I could taste. The Hickman Catheter would be removed this morning too. Hallelujah! No more cyclops coming out of my chest! The surgical team would be in soon to take care of it, no special surgery would be necessary. Freedom…again, with a big hole in my chest.

Everything went as planned, catheter removed without incident and I was ready to go. It was so easy to get dressed now! Around late afternoon my ride…the wheelchair, picked me up and we made our way out to the fresh air. It was not such a great day weather wise. The sky was dark and a storm was brewing. I still wouldn’t be able to see the boys. My immune system was very fragile, as was my physical condition. It would be a while before I could go home. So, it was back to Fort Washington to quarantine and continue to recuperate. Back in my room at my parents, it was time to rest. Another long day in the books.

The next morning, the ominous black skies that had presented themselves the afternoon before, were starting to unleash their fury. The rain was coming down in buckets. The area of Fort Washington where we lived was on a major down slope where all of the homes on our side of the street actually looked up to Dreshertown road. Dreshertown road was a curvy drive that on the left side, going towards our house, you looked up at the homes along it. The right side you looked down on the homes. At one point, not far from our house, there is a deep sharp curve where the right lane has just a guardrail that drops off to a deep slope below. My sister Lisa had ventured out that morning to the Willow Grove Mall to the Barnes and Noble store . The store sat by itself outside of the mall, a great escape to relax and grab a book, read, etc. I made my way downstairs to the kitchen hoping to eat some breakfast. It was always a struggle but I was so hungry. Lisa’s boyfriend at the time had come by to hang out and was waiting for her to get back. The storm raged on.

The forecast had called for heavy rain. It continued to get worse and Lisa called to let us know that she decided to wait out the torrents that were pummeling us at the moment. It just went downhill from there. Flash flooding was occurring all over the Delaware Valley, especially in our area. So bad that the parking lot around Barnes and Noble started to cave in around it. We had no idea that this was happening. Lisa decided to make a run for it fearing that her car would become a casualty like others being sucked into the crumbling tarmac. She called to let us know that she had made it out and was on her way. At home, my parents were frantic as were Scott and myself. I was sitting on the step leading from the kitchen to the den when the call came in. Watching the local news channels that were updating the flooding, the den television was spewing stories of overflowing creeks, rivers and inundated roads everywhere. My dad’s cellphone rang. Lisa was screaming on the other end. I will never forget that moment. She was trapped on the curve of Dreshertown road, literally one minute from our house. The water was cascading down the left slope and was flooding the roadway so quickly that she had nowhere to go. The road behind her was starting to cave and her car was trapped against the guardrail. The water was halfway up the side of her car. A life or death situation.

The screams coming through the cell phone were horrific. Scott flew out of the house and jumped into his car to try to get to where she was stranded. My dad was keeping her on the phone and trying to keep her calm although we were all freaking out. I got up and went upstairs and got my sneakers. This was my baby sister. I had to go out and help her. As I sat on the step again, I struggled so hard to get my shoes on. The phone went dead. The rain was pouring down. I couldn’t move. I physically could not move. My body was too weak. I tried to stand up but for the first time in my life, I felt completely helpless. Helpless. Too weak to do anything. My little sister could be drowning and I was in such bad condition that I couldn’t help. As soon as the phone went dead my Dad flew out the door and all that I wanted to do was help. There were so many bad times for me during this journey. This ranks as one of the worst. As my Dad was flying up the driveway, my sister came flying in. She made a decision that would save her life. She floored it. Luckily the water hadn’t reached the engine yet and in a moment of desperation she just floored it and plowed through the flood before it was too late. This was too close. Distraught was mild to say the least, we all were. The whole ordeal only lasted about five minutes. An insane five minutes of terror that felt like forever. But now, where was Scott? He wasn’t answering his phone and Lisa didn’t pass him on her way. He came in a few minutes later, obviously very emotional like the rest of us. He was drenched but so relieved to see her car when he pulled back in the driveway. He couldn’t get through the flood and couldn’t see her car so he pulled up a side road and ran through the houses to get to her. By the time he got there she had pulled through, so no car. He said the road was completely full at that point and he was thinking the worst. It was a valiant effort on his part, but this was my job. I should have been out there saving her. I would have been out there. To feel so helpless when someone you love so much needs you is a terrible thing. Probably how my family was feeling about me.

This excerpt is sadly written in honor of my friend Big Billy B. He lost his battle after a few short years to cancer this week. Too young, too fast, two young children. Very sad. He fought his cancer very hard. He was such a great guy. Rest easy bud.

Next up: A Special Trip to Hanahmen

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The next few days in the Cancer ward were pretty unceremonious. No sleep, docs and nurses in and out, a few family visits and phone calls with the store, Lor and big Nick. After all, I had only seen Nick twice for about an hour and our new baby Joe only for an hour after he was born. I needed to get better. My blood counts were increasing again with the therapy given to me as well as the lowering of my temperature through the antibiotics. The trend was positive so far. Hopefully, by the end of the week, I will be headed home again.

While I was recuperating in my room, Dr. Dave came by and we had a long discussion about the reason that he kept me in the hospital and could continue to bring me back. GVHD… Graft Versus Host Disease. Dave had mentioned this before in our initial consultations but we would now delve into the dangers and importance of this phenomenon. GVHD was a two pronged sword. A natural and necessary byproduct of a Bone Marrow Transplant. As much as you needed to get it, it could also kill you. It needed to be managed carefully although there was not much control that you could have over it. Disconcerting to say the least. So what is GVHD?

As defined by Explore cGVHD… “Graft Versus Host Disease is characterized by a combination of tissue inflammation and fibrosis, which manifests itself across multiple organ systems”. “Fibrotic lesions can develop across multiple organs where Fibrosis is a major contributor to life threatening complications and significant morbidity. Patients can develop multiorgan manifestations, including skin, mouth, joint, eye, GI tract, esophagus, liver and lung manifeststations”. In layman’s terms in regard to my own personal case, I needed to get GVHD as a means of destroying any original remaining bone marrow while allowing my donor marrow to proliferate. The fight that occurs inside my body between the donor DNA and my own DNA has to be somewhat significant as the original DNA will try to grow back. That fight is the premise and cause for the Graft- the donor marrow VS the Host- my marrow. This must occur, but the degree of occurrence enables the outcome. The Host DNA must be obliterated with no ability to return. Got it so far? It is pretty interesting.

Bottom line was that I needed to get GVHD. It could be mild to almost no GVHD. This was not what Dr. Dave wanted. With very little or no GVHD the transplant could revert itself leading to almost certain relapse. It could be slightly aggressive but manageable. This would be the best case scenario. A manageable case would be uncomfortable but offer the result most likely to afford me a successful lasting cure. Lastly, it could be very aggressive. This would be bad. Uncontrollable GVHD would most certainly lead to prolonged disability or death. This discussion with Dr. Dave was more enlightening than previous but most necessary. He would be watching me very carefully as we discussed the symptoms and signs of GVHD progression. The anti rejection drug that I was taking also played a huge part in the outcome. The dosages had to be conditioned to allow for the occurrence of GVHD to the extent that it would be conducive to a successful transplant and make sure that my body accepts the new marrow. This drug along with large doses of steroids would be the course for now. GVHD symptoms can range from skin rashes to joint issues, Ocular dysfunction and Lung function impairment. The latter resulting in significant morbidity. It could also lead to significant psychological distress. Chronic GVHD could also result in disability which could make returning to work at least two to three years or more a reality.

Ok, Dr. Dave. Such a wealth of information he was. I guess that’s why he was the best. He never pulled any punches. Like me, he believed in the reality of a situation. You can sugar coat any opinion, belief, story or situation, but reality is always what it is… the truth….like it or not. I was glad he was my doctor. He kept me informed no matter how bad the reality was. This was a nasty fight. Round 1 was getting through the diagnosis. Round 2, the actual transplant. This was Round 3, surviving the aftermath. Dr. Dave was Mick. The Manager, Trainer and Cut man. I was Rocky. Being Rocky sucks. Round 3 sucks. They all sucked.

Next up: Helpless

Let’s get back at it!

What a difference! The post op general cancer step down unit was no Ritz Carleton. I was used to the 5 star treatment in my bubble. The transplant unit nurses were specially trained to handle the needs of these oh so special patients. A virtual white glove experience, hospital wise. Now only five days removed from that unit, I was back in unfamiliar territory….with a roommate! Human interaction other than hospital personnel was a real change of pace. I’d rather be in the bubble. So whats the story?

I was not well. My temperature was hanging in the 101 to 102 range. This was not good. Dr. Dave came in to explain the situation. After the initiation of my transplant, I began receiving a drug called Cyclosporine. I would be on this drug for at least a year. This was one of many maintenance drugs that I would be taking, but the most important. I received it intravenously while in the unit but at home it was delivered orally. It was not only a dreadfully tasting concoction, it was also very harsh on the body. Cyclosporin was an anti rejection drug. A Bone Marrow Transplant is considered like any other transplant, heart, liver, kidney, etc. Anti rejection drugs are needed to help the body assimilate the foreign organ into your body and help it to blend and thrive as your own. In addition to the wild weekend that I hadn’t expected, the new drug was very harsh on me. Not only was my temperature high, a sign of infection, my blood counts had also dropped to levels that were conducive to even more injury. The worst fears the doctors have are blood infections, pneumonia, heart issues and something called “Graft Versus Host” disease. To contract any of these issues while my immune system is so compromised could easily lead to my demise.

Were we scared? Yep, very, very scared. Again, hooked back up to the IV pole with multiple lines to bags of, well, lots of bags. The Hickman Catheter was again working overtime. I still had a terrible time trying to eat and get nutrients into my body. I knew it was going to be a very rough night. Lori came after work to see what was going on and then left soon after to get home to our babies. We were so lucky to have the help from our families. The uncertainty was so hard on everybody. My roommate was actually the father of another Jeweler that worked in town. He also had a form of Leukemia but was in his early sixties and had just been operated on. Nice guy but neither of us were great company. It would be a rough night to sleep. So much going on all of the time. Nurses in and out constantly. I really was feeling like shit. Very anxious too. Dr. Dave was very concerned and told me that the antibiotics they were giving me would hopefully handle the fever and additional transfusions of blood products the other situations. I would stay in the hospital at least another five days. So basically, 56 days in the bubble, four days of freedom and now six days maybe or more… on the Cancer floor. Not a happy camper was I. Let’s see how it goes.

Next Up: “Graft Versus Host Disease”

I’m going to take a few minutes here to celebrate today 09/20/2020 and tomorrow 09/21/2020. “Another week in paradise” will have to wait another couple of days.

Today marks the anniversary of my release from the hospital 24 years ago. After almost two grueling months of enduring and surviving my bone marrow transplant, I made it home in time to watch my son Joseph enter into this world. I know that I am rehashing information that I very recently wrote about, but every year that I get to be here is so special to me. I had two very important goals to reach when my journey began. The first of course, to survive the transplant so that I could get home to Nick and meet Joey. The second, to see Nick graduate from Kindergarten.

Tomorrow, I will wish Joey a happy 24th birthday. As usual, he is traveling…. in Florida this time…celebrating his special day. Happy Birthday Joe! And of course, I got to see Nick graduate from Kindergarten, Middle school ( somewhat because he spent his graduation ceremony in the hospital with an appendicitis attack!), High School and College. I have so much to be thankful for, I am a very lucky guy. I appreciate everyone of you that are following along with my blog. Those of you that aren’t very familiar with my story, get ready for a wild ride. I wish that I could say that everything was smooth sailing after the transplant but that just wasn’t the case. My heart aches for what my little boys had to witness and endure for so many years watching me battle cancer. I also can’t imagine the “What if?” if I didn’t make it. For so many, that “What if?” is a reality. I feel so bad for those not as fortunate as me.

Especially this crazy year, 2020, hug your kids and remind them how special they are and tell them how much you love them everyday. Or text them. They never answer the freakin phone :).

Next Up: Another week in Paradise…(I promise)

I held that little boy in my arms like you can’t imagine. I waited almost two months for this moment that I thought may never happen. Back in the maternity ward, Nick was able to join us and meet his baby brother Joe. The range of emotion I was feeling was off the charts. I had both boys on my lap and Lor was resting in the bed next to us. How amazing was this. I was alive and this was my family. The euphoria short-lived though. My immune system was so fragile. The longer that I was exposed to the hospital air and those around me, the more dangerous it would become. It would be goodbye for now and back to my parents home. This was a day for the ages. Less than twenty four hours after being released from the bubble, my little guy came into this world. He knew what he was doing. Supercharging me with hope and the strongest will a man could ever feel to survive.

By the time I got back to my parents house I was more than spent. Completely. My In-laws would be holding down the fort with Lori and the boys at home and my parents were taking care of me. The weekend passed as most of my time was spent resting and wishing that I could be home helping with my boys. Unbelievably, my wife would have to go to work on Tuesday. Two days after she got home from the hospital delivering our son. It was just a never ending, no rest for the weary situation for her. Thank god she was so strong. At least, she didn’t have to go down to the city every day anymore. But I did. My first appointment was Tuesday. Back to see my favorite person…Doctor Dave. At least I didnt have to have another bone marrow aspiration. Not yet.

Monday afternoon I was scheduled to have a visiting nurse come and check up on me plus clean my Hickman Catheter. I couldnt wait to have that contraption taken out of my chest. So annoying. It went well though. I think she weighed me in at about 135 lbs. I really needed to be able to taste my food again. It was so hard to eat. I still had horrible mouth sores and everything tasted like shards of metal. Nutrients were so important at this stage of recuperation for me. I needed to gain weight. It was going to be hard to pull off.

Tuesday morning came and the laborious routine of getting dressed and ready to travel began. Heading back to Hahneman hospital, my home away from home, I dreaded the trip. Up the elevator to the 15th floor, into the office that I hadn’t seen since my admission for the transplant. Off of the elevator, turn left for the offices or right for the bubbles. It was very strange. My visits to the office before the transplant, I would try not to stare at the patients ravaged by chemotherapy. Sullen, pale, scarves, baseball caps, many in wheelchairs, the waiting room was full of them. Now, it was my turn to be a member of the club. It didnt feel good at all. It was awful. I was now the spectacle. The new patients coming through the door were trying not to look at me now. Go ahead, I understand.

Anyway, my appointment didn’t go very well. Dr. Dave did not like my appearance, my blood counts were dropping and I had developed a fever. I guess so much had transpired in the short time after I was released that my body was not ready for it. The wheelchair ride to the inpatient cancer ward was swift and not so sweet. No wonder they left the Hickman Catheter in me. “Here’s your gown Mr. Keenan”. “Welcome back”.

On a side note… this past week, 9/10/20, I just returned from a trip to Florida. I was visiting with a good friend of mine, relaxing for a bit, when a familiar song began playing on Music TV that was on at the time. My back was to the TV but the distinctly familiar sound of the opening waterfall sounds hit me like a brick. The tears simultaneously began flowing. I tried to control the emotional response that automatically triggers itself. My friend looked at me while this situation unfolded mid conversation and didn’t know what was going on or what to think. He asked if I was alright, like WTH? Trying to compose myself, and feeling like an idiot, I apologized and tried to explain. The words ripped into me as the tears continued to flow… “How many special people change?” ” How many lives are living strange?” Twenty four years later…that damn “Champagne Supernova”… Gets me every time.

Next Up: Another week in Paradise

I had to leave my boy again. It was such an amazing and uplifting moment for me to see him again. For a two and a half year old baby boy to have to process what was going on. I can’t imagine what was going through his head. Nevertheless, I had to say goodbye again after the short visit and was off to my parents house to quarantine, recuperate, eat and rest.

I had actually only lived in our families new home in Fort Washington for about two months after we moved in. A new job after graduating college afforded me the ability to move out and into my own place at that time, about ten years prior to now. I wasnt sure how long I would be staying there but it was a welcome respite after two months in the hospital. I unpacked and made myself comfortable in my new bedroom then went to the bathroom to take a really, really long shower. It felt wonderful. Afterwards, I settled in, called Lor and Nick to say goodnight and tried to go to sleep in my new digs.

About nine am the next morning, the 21st, my mom woke me to tell me that Lori was on the phone. “My water broke. I’m on the way to the hospital”, she said. No freakin way! Is this really happening! I barely had the strength to get out of bed. This was a miracle though and there was no way that I was going to miss it. I struggled to get dressed. Time was of the essence. We were using the same doctor that delivered Nick three years before at Frankford/Aria hospital in Northeast Philadelphia. It was about 45 minutes away and Lor and her dad were already on the way. I made it to the car and we were on our way. My mind was racing. Did this kid really know that I had just gotten out of the hospital the afternoon before? Did he realize how immunosuppressed and weak I was? Did he know the exact day that I would be available to be there to welcome him into the world? Pretty amazing I thought. Step on it Dad. We have to get to the hospital!

The hospital provided a wheelchair when we pulled up and we made our way to the delivery room where Lor was already in labor. The nurses at the front desk were apparently very happy to see me. The nurse asked me who I was there for and I told them that it was for Lori, that I was the father. Bursts of laughter broke out! They said “Thank God!” and proceeded to take me into the back where my father in law was dressed in a mask and gown. He looked so relieved to see me! Apparently, when they got to the hospital, Lori was rushed into the delivery room and when the nurse asked Nonno who he was, he said “The Father!”. He was so nervous, the nurses thought that HE was the Father! Nonno was off the hook. Dressed in a mask and gown… they wheeled me into the birthing room. I looked like I should have been in the cancer ward but here I was. I made it. Lor made it too. 56 days of hell and on number 57 here we were ready to welcome the son that I thought I may not ever meet. Yes, it was a miracle.

Unlike Nick who tortured us for 28 hours, this kid shot out like a rocket. Two and a half hours, he came out so fast that the doctor almost dropped him! There he was though. A beautiful baby boy. It was overwhelming for me. I just cried. My wife was amazing. He came two weeks early so she hadn’t even had a second to breathe. I was so proud of her. And Nick. He would be a big brother now. So many changes, so fast. Again, this is what I was fighting for. This is why Leukemia would not win this time.

We found out later that when Lori’s sister, brother in law and brother got the call in New York they left so quickly that they forgot to pick up Lor’s Mom and had to go back and get her! It was a glorious day. We were so blessed. I got to be there. His name you know…his name is Joseph.

Next Up: So Much to Take In.

It was Monday morning the 16th of September. I woke up to a knock on the glass of my bubble. The nurse on duty had a warning for me. Dr. Dave would be in at some point in the morning to treat me to another bone marrow aspiration. I knew it was coming. He would deliver the pain along with a date for my release. So he said at the end of last week. I was so ready to go home. I knew it would be rough transitioning to civilian outpatient life but I couldn’t wait to get out. Preparations were being made at home for my release. My parents had the bedroom ready. Lori was on call to be ready to take off and come get me. Poor girl was ready to burst. Just another two weeks to go for Joe. She was still working everyday and coming to the hospital every afternoon. Everyone was excited.

Dr. Dave rolled in with his entourage and tray of big needles and syringes. I swear that he loved torturing me. So, I assumed the position, grabbed the table with my hands and toes. You know the drill. The news afterwards would be worth the pain. “Ok Keenan, you are going home Wednesday”. Woohoo! It was an emotional moment for me. I had made it. My fifty/fifty chance of leaving the hospital dead or alive was over. This didn’t mean that I was totally out of the woods though, it meant that my odds were getting better. I started preparing for departure. All set to go, packed and ready. Wednesday morning came and went. Dr. Dave wasnt ready to let me go yet. Talk about a let down. Friday the 20th was the new date. Really?

Ok…now we fast forward to Friday. The stage is set. Paperwork signed, all of my precious pics of Nick packed up, dressed in actual street clothes and sneakers. Sneakers. I haven’t worn shoes in almost two months! All of the nurses on duty were there to say goodbye. They were just amazing the whole time. I still was quite shaky though. Dr. Dave gave me the exit interview. I would see him on Monday. Lor and my Dad were there to take me home. The wheelchair ride to the front door led me outside into a glorious sunny afternoon. Freedom.

In the car, the smile I wore under my mask was unprecedented. Our first stop was my house to see Nicky. The ride seemed like forever. When we pulled up to the house I could barely hold the tears back. Nick would be waiting for me along with Nonno…Lori’s dad, and Karen, our nanny. Fifty six days ago I left him. I didnt look like his dad anymore. I wouldnt be able to stay long, just a few minutes. The garage door went up and I got out of the car and waited at the entrance. The inside door opened and out he came. “Hi buddy” I said. Very hesitantly he walked towards me. He looked confused. Almost frightened. After all, I looked awful. I stood there and waited a second more for him to come around. All of a sudden he said “Daddy!” and ran into my arms. You needed a mop to wipe all of the tears from that garage floor. I just held him. He had grown so much. So beautiful. This is what I was fighting for. This is what kept me going. This is why there was no way that I wasn’t going to beat this crap. This was the best welcome home ever!

Next up: No Freakin Way!