That Damn Rock

Spring is such a wonderful time of year. The weather changes from the cold long winter to the warming of our local climate in the Philadelphia/Delaware Valley area. April showers and the greenery of the landscape brighten our days. A beautiful thing it is. Spring also meant that Joey would be returning home from his hockey home. This year Bradford, Ontario. He usually can’t wait for his journey back from the Canadian great white North. It’s crazy cold up there. For Nick, his seasons in sunny California haven’t changed a bit. “Paradise”, he says. The end of March or beginning of April for me means, for my treatment current protocol, that I will head to Hanahmen Hospital for my annual bloodwork. Only once a year for the past seven years. No Dr. Dave anymore though. This visit will be a little sad without his contagious chutzpah. Dr. Mike Styler had taken over for Dave and apparently was overwhelmed. The staff at I Brodsky and Associates knew that the end was near. The administration was cutting back on everything, including Doctors, Nurses and support staff. My appointment dragged on as I waited to be seen after the obligatory bloodwork. Dr. Mike apologized for the delay and we chatted while waiting for the preliminary results to come through.

One of the nurses popped her head into the exam room and handed the CBC report to Dr. Mike. I wasn’t too worried about the results. It had been eight years since my last relapse and that was artificially created by my decision to go off of my drug Gleevec. That was a trial initiated by Dr. Druker, the creator of Gleevec to see if I could sustain a permanent remission. I explained this scenario in a past blog. It didn’t work. Back on the drugs. Fast forward, Dr. Mike looked a little pale. He stared at the paperwork with no reply. I stared at him. I knew that this was not good. A been there, done that moment. My WBC, White cell blood count was 18,000. I was not sick. I hadn’t been sick. Why was my count rising? WTF!! DR. Styler was baffled. I was led back out to the lab to draw more blood, repeat the WBC. I would wait for the results only to be disappointed again. The PCR genetic test would take about ten days to complete and tell us more information and confirmation about the possible return of my CML. No doubt though. My Leukemia was back. Dr Mike told me to hang in there until the results were back from the PCR test. He would then contact me immediately.

The Rock was back. That damn rock! Hanging over my head. Ready to drop again. What’s next Leukemia? I fuc#@ng hate you! What do I say to my family? How do I tell them…Again! It’s baacckk! For now, I tell no one. No need to cause a ruckus. I’ll wait to get the final test result confirming my new relapse. Then, I’ll tell Lor. Just Lor. And we’ll be heartbroken…all over again.

Next Up: Course of Action

On a terribly sad note, yesterday, 8/22/22, another lovely soul passed due to the disastrous effects of cancer. Specifically, Pancreatic Cancer. Fran Baker fought valiantly as she withered away over a relatively short period of time. A pretty, petite and quiet person, Fran was married to a great customer and friend of ours, Paul Baker. Paul adored Fran. He lavished her with beautiful gifts of Antique and estate style jewelry. The older, the better. He would always call the store to see if we had received any new relics for him to look at for Fran. And always, we jousted over the price. It was always enjoyable. Paul was devastated by Frans diagnosis. He was with her side by side throughout every treatment, every, appointment, every moment, with every ounce of hope he had in him. Until the moment the cancer took her life, he stood by her, hoping for a miracle. The miracle was their story though. Meeting in their midlife, marrying, loving and enjoying each other every day. Never an argument, never a doubt. Theirs was a fairytale moment in time. Rest in peace Fran. It was a pleasure to know you.