August ended with no relief in sight. The constant thought in my mind was that my birthday in the beginning of September may be my last. I would be thirty nine years old. We usually would spend my birthday celebrating with family down at the Jersey shore. It usually fell on Labor day weekend or the first day of school every year. Not the happiest of Birthdays, I really don’t remember much of the day, I’m sure everyone did their best to make it special, but deep inside, I wasn’t much for celebrating. Yes, emotionally, I was a wreck and preparing for the worst. Dr. Dave told me at my last appointment, a few days prior, that if there was no answer soon on the FDA study that we would be having to attempt another Bone Marrow Transplant. Most likely by the end of October. My Leukemia was progressing rapidly and things were getting desperate. I couldn’t take the Interferon injections much more. My quality of life on the drug was just not worth it anymore. It was doing nothing for me. Dr Dave knew this all too well.
I knew the impact of my condition was weighing on my family heavily. Anticipating the possibility, no, the reality, of my demise. My boys couldn’t help but see how I was failing. They were so great though. They kept me going through it all. The antics and actions of two little boys I loved so much helped me smile through the pain. So innocent. They were my best medicine. Lori kept fighting through it all. Immersed in handling everything the best she could. My Dad kept up the calls and letters push to anyone and everyone he thought might give me an edge to entry into the study. My Mom had a different angle. She went with her heart and her gut. She had fought her own cancer battle. She knew the deal. She had faith in the process and knew that I would be ok. She would reiterate that faith to my father and to me and to our family. Consistently. Dr. Dave…he knew it too. Remember… he told me so.
By mid September, I was taken off of the Interferon. Dr. Dave saw no benefit anymore, just agony. The prerequisites for admission into the study were that a candidate would have received Interferon for six months without any response or reduction in their Leukemia. I only lasted less than five months before I couldn’t take it anymore. This worried me so much. Would I be ineligible now? No matter. The call came in a few days later. Dr. Dave received word from his long time colleague, Dr. Carol Miller. Dave had been blowing up Dr. Miller’s phone for months. Constantly contacting her with pleas for my entry into her group. His last plea worked. He told her that she was my last hope. That the Interferon was useless and harming me too much. That I had two little boys that were going to lose their Dad. That I had suffered too much and he really needed a favor here. I guess she caved. She only had so many spots available. So many requests. I would be receiving a call from Johns Hopkins University Cancer Center in Baltimore shortly. My Mom was right. Keep the faith. I was in. The Miracle drug was in reach. I just hugged my wife and my boys. And yep, I cried. A lot.
Next up: This is Good Shit