Category: Uncategorized

The morning started out as usual. More bloodwork, more meds, a breakfast that I couldn’t eat. A nurse’s aid would come in to help me get out of bed to try to walk around the ten square foot space available to me. That was rough. Trying to navigate anything with the menagerie of tubes emanating from my chest was a real joy. I would invariably end up on my porta potty trying to move something into the bowl. Between the constipation caused by the Morphine and the total lack of any palatable solid foods, it was a tough sell.

I hadn’t had a shower in almost a month now. Washcloth or sponge baths, as they were called, were the norm and a new toothbrush was supplied everyday along with one of those kidney shaped yellow bowls to spit into. Worse was the constant fight to live with the contraption coming out of my chest. It was heavy and attached to all of the IV tubes delivering all of the meds 24/7. It always pulled at my skin and I would constantly worry about it coming out, even though it was stitched into me. A nurse showed me how to make a lanyard out of the strings of a hospital gown to alleviate the weight and pulling on my chest. It worked pretty well but broke easily and would need to be replaced all of the time. Plus, the area where the catheter entered my aorta had to be constantly cleaned as the wound could become easily infected.

This particular day was going to get worse though. One of the residents stopped in to let me know that Dr. Dave would be in to see me soon. This was a daily ritual but today he was giving me a heads up. It was time for another bone marrow aspiration. Great. I feel like crap. I’m very weak. I can barely eat. And now I’m going to get skewered again. It just doesn’t get any better than this. Here we go again. Assume the position Jeff. Son of a Bitch! It’s another one in the books. Thanks Dr. Dave. I really, really, really, hated that procedure. I think that I had about ten aspirations between my diagnoses in May and my departure from the hospital in September. Unfortunately, there were many more to come.

By the time Lori had finished work and arrived for her daily visit, I was not a pleasure to be around. My mood was changing and not for the better. You get to a point where things just really suck. Even though my numbers were rising and there was a light at the end of the tunnel, I couldn’t see it. I didn’t really want to talk. I missed Nick so much. I was so worried about Lor too. She was nine months pregnant now. She was under so much stress. Coming down to the hospital everyday, working full time, ready to have a baby, and taking care of Nick, OMG! Pressure? I would say so. But I didnt make it any better for her that day. I think that I kind of lost it. Lashed out for no reason. They say ” You only hurt the one’s you love”. Well, I did a good job. It was a short visit. A day that I wish I could erase from history. Like many others recent and many more to come.

Next up: The Videophone

Now you would think that this excerpt would have me lamenting the fact that I missed my little boy. I did…terribly. But it is not. What do you do for twenty four hours a day besides lay in a somewhat comatose state? Well, you sleep the best that you can, especially when nurses are coming in and out of your room every two hours. You can try to converse with the wonderful friends that come to visit you. They mean well but at the time it was so exhausting. I did really appreciate it. The visits at that time were short but sweet. The phone calls that were coming in at the time were fielded by my wife and were also short but sweet. I usually would get a call from my store for a quick briefing or question. They were also wrapped up as soon as possible. I really didn’t have the strength or wherewithal to handle too much. The battle was still raging on in my body and the effects of the chemotherapy, steroids, anti- rejection drugs, etc. were daunting.

So what else do you do? Of course…you watch TV. A lot of TV. And more TV. That’s what you do in the hospital. All day, all night, whenever I was awake. It was white noise. A distraction from the constant pain and monotony. The channels were meager and the content the same. Nothing compared to todays standards. Netflix? I wish. There are many things that can trigger me and the “PTSD”, as I call it, from my time in the unit. One of the biggest is the smell of the antiseptic soap that was in the dispenser by the entrance to my room. So distinct was the smell, that to this day it hits me like a brick to the face if it’s near. The doctors and nurses used it on their hands every time they entered or left my bubble. It is burnt into my olfactory sense like a bad tattoo.

Dr. Dave had given me the OK to start attempting to eat from a very rigid menu. If I felt like eating anything on the menu, I was encouraged to do so. The hospital dietician had stopped by to go over the choices made for me. No fresh grown food, no raw veggies and nothing that could expose me to germs or infection. Very bland and very boring. It didn’t really matter though. The sores in my mouth made eating anything a major chore. And a painful one. I also found out that when I did try to eat anything that chemotherapy destroys your taste buds. Everything tasted like shit! Horrible!

I probably had lost about twenty pounds so far. I was literally starving for something palatable. I wanted to be able to enjoy one delicious morsel of food. A piece of pizza. A donut. A cheesesteak. A hot dog. A hamburger. Some Bar-B-Q ribs. Some what do you say? The second trigger. That freaking Chile’s commercial for their Baby Back Ribs! I must have seen that commercial five hundred times a week! Every hour, every day. An all out media blitz! My mouth would water at the sight of those ribs, burgers and appetizers! I wanted to reach out and grab them from the TV! I wanted to eat! To most the commercial was just a catchy jingle, a call to arms to get to Chile’s to savor those Baby Back Ribs! For the many more years that it aired, when I heard it, it just took me back. An antagonistic mantra drawing my mind back into the bubble.

I Want My Baby Back. Baby Back. I Want My Baby Back,Baby Back. I Want My Baby Back, Baby Back. Like a broken record. Get the picture? You’re singing it in your head right now. Yep.

Next up: A Foul Mood and Another Aspiration

So, I mentioned earlier that my sister Lisa was coordinating blood and platelet donations from friends and family. This was to ensure that the donations were documented and not from unknown donors from the general blood bank. From the beginning of the transplant, after my blood counts were so low, I had received several infusions of blood and platelets needed to maintain my survival until the new bone marrow had the chance to take over.

My parents were at the hospital to visit me. I believe it was a Saturday in the early afternoon and time for another platelet infusion. This was generally a small IV bag that took about twenty minutes to enter my system. It was usually given with a dose of mild antihistamine in case of a minor reaction to the dose. I never really had an issue…until today.

This was an out of body experience. I’m talking crazy. As the platelets coarsed through my body, I started to develop a nasty red rash all over. The nurses called in the doctors to check it out and prescribe something stronger than usual to alleviate the problem. It wasn’t working. I was itching terribly all over. My family was watching and getting very worried. It was not a pretty sight. Then it happened. A full out scene from the exorcist. I had no control of my arms or legs. I was kicking and flailing as my arms and legs were just flying all over. My body was literally lifting itself up and down off of the bed. The nurses were trying to hold me down awaiting additional meds that were being ordered to suppress the devil inside. Everyone was panicking at this point because nothing like this had happened before and it wasn’t subsiding. I believe that the next huge doses received, Benadryl and Atavan, were a hail Mary to stop the madness.

Finally, the drugs began to work and my body was gaining control of the situation. I was completely drained! This was, as bad as I felt during my two and a half weeks, the first time that I thought I was in real danger. We all did. My Dad was beside himself. Its not often you get to watch a live exorcism. He had one question. Who Donated Those Platelets??

This was 1996. No HEPA rules to get around luckily. I was fortunate to have great friends. There were so many donors. Two had actually flown in to participate in the donation process and help my cause. Michele Selvaggio from Florida and David Brecher from California. We waited patiently as the doctor requisitioned the blood bank for the name associated with the dose. The winner….David Brecher!

Dave had come in a few days earlier while being back in Philly for business. He had gladly made time to come down to the hospital to help me out. He was like a brother from another mother. Best friends with my brother Glenn for many years since grade school, he was a fixture in our home. When he came up to visit me after donating, he was white as a ghost. I do remember that. I didnt know if it was that he was afraid of needles. Or that he had lost too much blood. Or that he was my life insurance agent. Ha! I did look pretty bad.

The call went out to the West Coast. Dave was speechless. How could this happen? He felt so bad and apologized profusely. He wasn’t taking any medications or having any medical issues, they screen for that. He could only come up with one explanation. My body couldn’t handle his Supercharged Jewish Platelets! Ha! They were just too potent! I went with it. Dave was nothing ever but a class guy and great friend. How could I disagree? My body was to become a conglomerate of personalities, nationalities, genders and the beneficiary of all of those that mattered in my life. It was so welcomed. Thank you to everyone who contributed their time, effort and life saving fluids on my behalf. I am a blessed and fortunate man.

Next Up: I want my Baby Back…Baby Back

I spent most of the next day after the transplant in a sedated and disoriented state. The new marrow would inconspicuously travel through my bloodstream and zero in on its target. The chemotherapy was still present and accounted for as the nausea and pain continued to consume my body. I found out that my brother was doing well and being released to head home and recuperate from the many aspirations that he had to endure. I’m sure that he would be very uncomfortable for a while. Like I said before, bone marrow aspirations Suck! Poor guy.

I can’t remember if I spoke to Nicky yet but there was nothing better than to hear his sweet voice. Better than any painkillers. I’m sure that I did but it was a foggy period for me. The usual buzz of nurses and doctors in and out was exacerbated by the fact that this next few days would be crucial to my survival. I needed to be monitored continuously for any deviation in my vital signs or change in condition. My nutrition was solely IV nutrients. No solid food for a while. Ice chips occasionally too. Every CBC, every few hours, would tell the tale of my existence. Would my brother’s marrow graft to mine? Only time would tell. I could only lie there and hope… and sleep.

I wish I could fill you in more but I just don’t remember much about that day or the next few, but I do know this….it was working! The blackboard was filling up. Every few hours as the results of the constant blood draws returned, the data blocks were being filled in by excited nurses that were really pulling for me. Positive numbers gradually and incrementally climbing ever so slowly. But who cared. They were moving up! Dr. Dave was excited too! He let me know that the graft was progressing and he seemed somewhat confident that barring any major complications that the trend would continue. Everyone was so happy. It would be a grueling and emotional time but hopefully worth the while. It had to be.

Meanwhile, other issues were cropping up. Fevers, terrible mouth sores, bone pain, nausea, etc. Typical, but just freaking awful. This was no fun. I missed my boy. I missed my home. I missed my work. I missed my life. The one thing I could count on…Lor would be there. Sitting in the chair across from my bed in her mask and gown. Whether I knew it or not. Unbelievable.

Next up: Strange Platelets

I woke up this morning, the 7th of August, my moms birthday was the day before. It was very early as the buzz of nurses and doctors was all over my room. Today was the day. More bloodwork, more meds, more examination and more anxiety. Well, as much as I could muster. My brother Glenn had arrived and was being prepared to enter the OR and begin the process of extracting his bone marrow through the aspiration process. Multiple aspirations. He would be fortunate to be anesthetized for the duration and recieve pain meds throughout the duration of his overnight stay. My parents and Glenn’s wife Rachel were in the surgical waiting area while Lori waited with me in my bubble.

It would take a few hours to harvest the marrow and then prepare it for its delivery to my body. I really had no idea about the process or the procedure but I know that I needed it asap! Around 12 noon the transplant team arrived with a small cooler and said that it was time to go. When they opened the cooler I was more than surprised. Two small plastic IV bags of thick pink and gooey looking solution. This was Glenn’s marrow. They hooked the bags up to the IV tree and placed the rubber tubes from the bags into my Hickman Catheter and released the flood. The procedure was simply to introduce the marrow into my bloodstream and from there let the marrow find its way into my bones. That’s how it works. Pretty simple and straightforward. Little did I know that it really wasn’t that simple. I was given Benadryl for any adverse allergic reaction that might occur, antibiotics to stem any infection that may try to infiltrate my system and more pain meds to take the edge off. I heard from Dr Dave, who performed the aspirations on my brother, that he did great and was recuperating in his room. He would be sore for a while. My parents joined Lori in my room. All protective gear necessary to enter the room had to be worn. Any infection at that point would kill me. I drifted off to sleep as my family discussed the days events. I was weak and vulnerable. I needed to rest, to heal and to let the marrow do its job. The next two days would either make it or break it for me. A 50/50 shot at life. No pressure at all. I got this. Can’t wait to see my first scoreboard in the morning. Got to see some numbers. No Zeros!! Thanks Glenn…Love you.

I finally reached the end of my chemotherapy seven day cycle. The words they say, are written on the wall. I was in a pretty bad state. Extremely exhausted. My body itched terribly and my bones hurt so bad. The nausea was never ending and I could hardly get up to go to the bathroom. This crap really wiped me out.

Dr. Dave came in that morning to review my new bloodwork and explain the situation. As expected, the drugs did their job and the scoreboard showed a steady decline. A daily drop in each particular blood marker where the current trend was just zero. White cells-0, Red Cells- 0, Hemoglobin-0, Platelets-0. All other important blood markers-0. This was the initial goal. To rid my body of the affected bone marrow that was creating the Chronic Mylogenous Leukemia. The only nutrients that my body was receiving at this point were intravenous liquids and foods. Yummy. My body at this point now was in a very precipitous position. There was no infection fighting white cells left to protect me, nor red cells to enrich my oxygen. The process needed to be done quickly at this point and we needed to make sure that my brother’s bone marrow would graft to my bones and any remaining marrow in there would be overrun. It would begin to instantly enrich my body with a new selection of cells. Cancer free!

The next morning, Glenn would arrive and be admitted to an OR floor room to be prepared for an immediate ride down to have his marrow harvested. The procedure would require that he go under general anesthesia because of the amount of aspirations he would need to complete the process. Usually for a single aspiration there is only local anesthesia given. When you are donating for a bone marrow transplant, you need to access many spots to withdrawal enough marrow. Therefore, there would be just too much pain to not be put under. He would be staying overnight for observation. I felt really bad for him but this was lifesaving. I would definitely do the same for him. No questions asked. That’s what brothers do…even if I was the best looking. And taller. I thought if I had the looks , maybe I would get his brains. We would after all have the same exact DNA, like twins, and my O type blood would soon be his B type blood. Interesting. Would I also start acting like him? There was no way I was tucking my t-shirts into my jeans or wearing white gym socks up to my knees with short shorts on. Jeff would still be Jeff…and Glenn, Glenn. But we would be close. You cant get much closer than saving your siblings life. We just hope it works.

Dr Dave surprised me with the gift of yet another pre-transplant bone marrow aspiration. I think he was a bit of a masochist. I needed to be constantly giving the lab the marrow so that they could follow my progress every few days. What a joy. I lost count after a while. Ok…a moment to curl my toes and bury my nose, grab the table and here he goes! I hate you Dave !!! ” Ya ok pal?” ” Yes Dr. Dave…just wonderful.”

Lor was there, of course. I got to talk to Nicky for as long as he could hang and everyone would be coming up tomorrow with my bro…an entourage of sorts. It will be an epic day. A new life. A new beginning.

Next up: “Here Comes the Juice”

Many who know me, know that I would always be there to help. My family, my friends and my customers always came first. You have a problem, I’ll be there. How can I help? This good nature and goodwill came back to me in spades. We had so many volunteers to donate blood and platelets that some friends were put on an on-call wait list. How lucky was I!

I had rapidly begun to feel the nasty effects of such wicked chemotherapy agents as I was receiving them constantly and without abatement. I would get feverish, nauseous, itchy all over and bad headaches. Just an overall awful state of being, no way to live. I felt so weak and had to sleep a lot to get by. I wasn’t hungry at all and if I was…everything tasted like shit. Like metallic shards in your mouth. I existed on IV fluids, IV food and watermelon. Watermelon and CheeseIts crackers. The only food I could taste. Usually threw it up anyway.

In the altered state that I was in, was often interrupted by visitors whom had come in to give blood for me. I wasn’t much of a host, but tried to perform the best that I could. I really looked awful. I lost all of my hair. I was losing weight rapidly. Yuk! My sister Lisa made up the donor schedule and she really threw me a curveball this day. About 1 pm on the seventh and last day of my chemo, the charge nurse came to tell me that I had a visitor. No problem, I guess I would be able to handle them. The curtain opened and I froze for a sec. I said” What, am I dreaming”? Tears started flowing down her face. With the surgical mask on I could make them out along the side of her face. It had been many years since we had seen each other. I said “Are you lost”? LOL. She looked great. My first longterm love , my high school sweetheart…Theresa. She had found out through friends that I was very ill and in need of help. Although she was deemed unfit for platelet donation…we were the same blood type and she was able to give blood. She was so happy to see me and be able to help in some way. We spoke for the time she was able to stay there and enjoyed swapping stories of our kids and families and how happy she was in her current situation. It was a nice reunion. I thanked her and she said that she would keep in touch with Lisa. I knew she would.

Round two ….another knock on the door. This time the nurse had this big beautiful bouquet of flowers. Big! Only problem was that flowers were not allowed in the unit because of the sensitive issues the patients had with their immunosuppression. The nurse said take a good look from your bubble….and they gotta go! I felt terrible, they were so nice. The nicest bouquet in the unit in a very long time as per the nurse crew. Sooo…where did they come from? No way…now entering the room in gowned up fashion was girlfriend number two! I could see the tears coming down her face too. I must have looked really bad! Lisa was another beautiful young lady that I had the pleasure to go out with for a while. She had actually taken care of me when I snapped my ankle in half during an ice hockey mens league game. On Super Bowl Sunday! And then while in agony on the way back to my house, completely tore up the gears on my RX-7 while following my dad and I back from the hospital. The screaching sound of my grinding clutch hurt worse than my broken leg! Lisa cooked for me, took me to doctor appts. Etc. She was a great girl. I hadn’t seen her for a while either and it was nice to catch up. We were friends for many years. She also gave blood and was there to help. I felt special. It was a nice day. A tough day.

After Lisa left it was time for the true love of my life to be arriving. Lori would usually be there by 3:30. Like clockwork. She loved me no matter how bad I looked. She always looked so beautiful at eight months pregnant and always made me smile. Fill me in on my boy please! It had been over a week now since I had seen Nicky. I missed him so much. The nights got harder everyday as the pain and the hunger and the worry just piled up on me. I told Lor about my visitors and she thought that it was really nice that they were there to help. So did I. My parents would be coming down the next day and the day thereafter because my brother was being admitted in two days, early in the morning to have his marrow harvested for the transplant.

It was getting later and Lor was going to have to get going. It was so special that she was there for me every day. And Joseph. I always worried about her driving back and forth so much. She was tough though. She had to be.

So it was getting late, more Morphine, more chemo, more feeling like shit and I needed some rest, it was a long day. The phone rang and I assumed it was my Nicky calling.” Hello buddy”. It wasn’t Nick. ” Jeff. It’s Dave”. “Who”? “Dave Linsalata”.

The Linsalata family had been customers of mine since the time I had moved up to the Roosevelt Mall. Mr.&Mrs. Linsalata. Mark and Maggie, David and Cindy, their other brothers and sisters and nephews…etc. A great Italian family from the NorthEast. They became like family over 30 years. I went to their weddings…their special events and their funerals. Dave sounded very distraught. I thought maybe he was worried about me or something. No. In an exasperated tone, he said ” Cindy broke up with me!”. He was crying and hyperventilating and rambling on about how was he going to handle this, etc. This guy is 6 foot 5…270 lbs. Not one to be so vulnerable I would assume. Cindy was this petite young lady, but man did she have his number! In my very frail voice, I told him that what will be …will be. She knows what a great catch she had and there was no way that I was taking the engagement ring back! Figure it out, I’m literally dying here! I was kind of honored that he called me when he was so distressed. I could barely hold the phone or stay conscious at that point and wished him luck. Suck it up, it will be fine bud, she’ll be back…click! And I was out. What a day!

Next up: Chemo 1/ Counts 0

.

As the slow drip of the two chemotherapy agents entered the clear plastic tubes and meandered their way towards my Hickman Catheter, I patiently watched and always kept on the lookout for air bubbles. Someone told me many moons ago that if air was in the iv line it could reach your brain and cause a stroke. I would have been dead already. There were lots of bubbles all the time. It helped pass the time though. Every four hours the vampire nurses would visit me to take my blood. Within the hour new numbers would be written on my scoreboard. They were dropping quick. The heavy concentration of chemo drugs surging into my veins were hammering my body and my marrow. It was the first day and it was awful. My body just ached. The nausea just got worse and worse and I lost it a few times. Ugly.

Lori got down to the hospital around 3;30. She would go in the office early so she could leave by that time and beat traffic. She would stay a couple hours and visit. Today and for the remainder of my stay, she and any visitors would have to wear a gown, hat, mask, booties and gloves for infection control. I was completely helpless against germs and infection at this point and worse as time wore on. As it got later, the pain was getting more intense as was the nausea and fatigue. These drugs were hell. Lor wouldn’t stay long and needed to get home for Nick. I needed to rest. The first evening of chemo was just awful. Dr. Dave told me that I would receive consistent doses for the week, way heavier than most patients receiving normal doses. This was intense therapy. I was trying to manage the combination as best that I could when an Angel walked in.”Jeff, I’m here to give you pain meds” Thank You!, I said many times over. Within a few minutes the Morphine was knocking me out and putting me in a state of calmness…disconnected from reality. It was so needed. The nurses came in a little while later to see how I was doing. “Where am I again”, they said I asked.

This day was like groundhog day. Repeated over and over again for six more days. The same regimen, the same drugs, the same state of mind. The pain meds took the edge off but I entered into a slight state of delirium. My scoreboard recorded the story of my life. All downhill. Every day my WBC, my RBC, my HGB, my MCW, my PLT counts dropping like rocks They weren’t kidding. I was a very sick man. By the end of the week my counts would be all zero and I’d be hanging off of a dangerous precipice. Life or Death. I honestly can’t tell you much about that week. I was pretty much out of it and in a lot of pain. A week that I want to forget. I lost all of the rest of my hair too. My eyebrows, my chest hair, leg hair…etc. My bed was such a mess.

I can say now that I fielded a few phone calls each day. I spoke to Nicky, spoke to work, spoke to my parents and Lori…and I spoke to…..

Next Up…”Dave Linsalata”

The call finally came in. “Hi Daddy”. My smile lit up the room. It was short but sweet. At only two and a half years old, the joy he brought to me was just unprecedented. ” I love you Daddy”….”Good luck”. Thats all I needed. Let’s get this party started.

Dr. Dave entered the room with his contagious smile, Jerry Garcia hair and equally large entourage. I knew what was coming next. ” Assume the position Keenan”, “You know what time it is”. This would be my fourth and his third bone marrow aspiration performed on me. We had the regimen down pat.

The first needle was small and used to numb the upper layer of the skin. The second needle was longer and heavier, used to deliver Lidocaine directly to the hip bone. Dr. T. would tap the point of the needle into the bone gently to deliver the anesthetic until i couldnt feel the needle anymore. Next up was the dangerously sharp, awl style, super thick needle with a diamond encrusted tip. Dave would use a step stool sometimes to gain height and strength advantage to be able to put enough pressure on the awl to get it through my hip bone. He said that I had the hardest bones in the world. Dave had strong hands and forearms, the rock climber that he was. He traveled all over the U.S. conquering mountains and formations for fun. This was not fun. Push, grind, push, grind….POP!! “Ok bud…we’re in”. No shit Dave. Now the real fun. The top of the awl twisted off and the diamond bit needle slid out. A tube was now open into the marrow portion of your hip bone. Then a very large hypodermic needle was inserted into the tube and into the marrow itself. Pause please…my chance to grab the top of the bed, bury my face in the pillow, and curl my toes around the bottom of the bed or table. “Ready Jeff…on three”. “One, two…three.” He would slowly draw up on the plunger trying not to go too fast. The thick marrow would fill the large syringe body until it was full. There was no anesthetic inside your bone. The pain as the needle drew upon the marrow was so intense that I often compared it to sucking your testicle through your nose!! It was just awful. Just horrible. An experience you’ll never forget. The needle is withdrawn and the large amount of blood created drains out of the hole and then plugged up with a compression bandage. Then another one. Very unpleasant. The team was just getting started.

As soon as i could catch my breath the Chemo nurse, as she was called, showed up to begin my first treatment. Two bags of poison today, then two more tomorrow, and each day thereafter for a total of six days. The drugs didn’t look as ominous as I thought they would. Just normal bags of fluid. This was nasty stuff, Dr. Dave told me. Also, that I would be watched twenty four hours a day. Round the clock. Side effects would be apparent and intense. I would be given an amount of chemo strong enough to destroy my immune system and all of my bone marrow. Done effectively, I would technically be brought as close to death as I possibly could be. This by the end of the week.. The bags were hung and the lines attached to my Hickman Catheter. I watched them be attached to the IV machines and then the release of the drugs into my body. It’s official. The show has begun. I am the star. Let’s turn on the TV, get me some pain meds, and leave me alone. I need to process the situation and see what follows. Its not going to be pretty. I looked at my rock… ” Never, Never, Quit.” Never happen… I’m in it to win it.

Next up: Where am I ?

The first night in the Transplant unit was a real eye opener. Literally. Besides trying to mentally prepare myself for the next day, the ability to sleep was almost non existent. The nurses and 15th floor personnel were constantly on the move. In and out of rooms, changing IV bags, tending to patients needs and wants and implementing doctors orders. All night long. Then there were the patients. The moaning and groaning of cancer patients in pain and discomfort is something you never want to hear. Calling out for help in the middle of the night. I didnt think that I would ever get used to something like that. Would I become a part of it? I guess time would tell.

It was my turn about every three to four hours. The nurses really did try to slip in and out quietly. It didn’t help. Plus, I was a side or stomach sleeper. I would have to learn to sleep on my back until I got used to the catheter. I had two poles and a double tree of chrome arms hanging over my bed with a plethora of tubes and fluids bags hanging and connecting to my catheter. I would become well versed in the continuous flow of the various times, schedules and types of drugs being delivered to my room and my system. The constant visits to my room also included the drawing of blood to accurately account for my various CBC markers. Unfortunately, this was not able to be done through my chest catheter too often. The phlebotomists would have to poke me a lot. It really, really, sucked.

So, I made it through to the next morning. I probably slept about three to four hours. I would learn to nap during the day. That helped, somewhat. “It was going to be a long two months”, I thought to myself. I couldn’t wait for the morning call from Nick and Lori. I wanted to hear my little buddy’s voice, Lor too. She would be coming down to the hospital a lot for the first week or two. So would my parents and family. My sister Lisa would be coordinating a blood and platelet drive for those essential fluids. Donations by friends would be so important. I would then not have to draw those greatly needed life saving elements from outside blood banks and sources. Her job and the response were overwhelming.

It was still pretty early in the morning. I just had to peer through the window blinds. The ever present Inquirer clock tower wasn’t going anywhere. Six Thirty AM and I knew a couple of things. One…Dr. Topolsky would be coming in with his big ass needles to give me another bone marrow aspiration. Two…I was going to begin my first day of chemotherapy. And Three…Things were never going to be the same again.

Next Up: Chemo…Chemo…Chemo