High Water Crossing

I know it’s an old one, but there is a point to my using it today.  And it is still funny!

The Big Flood

It had been raining for days and days, and a terrible flood had come over the land.  The waters rose so high that one man was forced to climb onto the roof of his house.

As the waters rose higher and higher, a man in a rowboat appeared, and told him to get in.  "No," replied the man on the roof.  "I have faith in the Lord; the Lord will save me."  So the man in the rowboat went away.  The man on the roof prayed for God to save him.

The waters rose higher and higher, and suddenly a speedboat appeared.  "Climb in!" shouted a man in the boat.  "No," replied the man on the roof.  "I have faith in the Lord; the Lord will save me."  So the man in the speedboat went away.  The man on the roof prayed for God to save him.

The waters continued to rise.  A helicopter appeared and over the loudspeaker, the pilot announced he would lower a rope to the man on the roof.  "No," replied the man on the roof.  "I have faith in the Lord; the Lord will save me."  So the helicopter went away.  The man on the roof prayed for God to save him.

The waters rose higher and higher, and eventually they rose so high that the man on the roof was washed away, and alas, the poor man drowned.

Upon arriving in heaven, the man marched straight over to God.  "Heavenly Father," he said, "I had faith in you, I prayed to you to save me, and yet you did nothing.  Why?"

God gave him a puzzled look, and replied "I sent you two boats and a helicopter, what more did you expect?"

Some have questioned why we are being so aggressive with our approach to this type of leukemia.  Why not wait a little longer?  Why not try other therapies?  Why not wait until she is “really” sick?

As you know if you’ve read Tamara’s posts, our leukemia is not run of the mill.  It does not respond well to chemotherapy, remissions are very short and the second round of therapy (which is inevitable) is not likely to last as long as the first.  So…the first choice has to be the best.

We have prayed, studied, researched, read blogs, and everything else possible to make our decisions.  We both agreed that getting in quick and “Get ‘er done” was what we wanted to do.

When we first knew that our next appointment at UTMDACC (henceforth called Anderson) was in early February, we did not have a donor match.  The odds were against having a good match in so short a time.  It usually takes at least six months or more.  We both knew, and acknowledged, that without a viable match there really wasn’t a reason to get excited about going there for more routine tests.  Blah, blah, blah and so on was all that we could expect.

A little background here.  On the donor registry, they look for a 6 of 6 match.  Doesn’t matter what they are matching here, just read the numbers.  Anderson takes it further, starting at 10 of 10, up to a perfect match of 14 of 14.  They get really excited (OK, I know it’s a stretch to imagine a bunch of researchy doctor types getting excited, but try) if they get a 12 of 14 match.

Now, back to the topic.  Just before our appointment, we find out that not only do we have a good match, we have a PERFECT match!!!  And to boot, we have two more 13 of 14 donors waiting in the wings.  Not something that happens regularly with transplants.

Are you starting to see the similes here?  Two boats and a helicopter.  Two 13’s and a 14.  If you are not catching on, start over and read from the joke back to here until you do.

So, we discussed it with the medical staff.  They had to go through the whole “you understand that there are risks with a transplant and you could die” spiel.   We went through the whole “yea, we understand that we (if she dies, I die) could die regardless and we are aware of the risks” routine.  More legalese kinda talk about new and promising therapies on the horizon, but no guarantees of when.

Perfect matches do not happen often, and especially not within this short a time, without a reason.  How could we decide to wait until Tamara gets sicker, or the worst case scenario of the donor getting hit by a bus or something?  Unofficially, they let us know that they understood where we were coming from. 

Legal disclaimer – there was not any coercion, or any other type of input on behalf of the medical staff to influence our decision.  There, that should keep their “you-know-whats” out of the frying pan.

Final verdict—we are going to start a regimen of a drug called Campath (trade name, if you want the details and the words that are hard to pronounce you can google it, or read Tamara’s blogs!).  This is not chemo the way most of us think of it.  Chemo is basically poison in a controlled dosage.  This one is a drug (again, you can research for the details if you want) that helps the body fight against the leukemia.  I get to administer it to Tamara here at home three times a week.  While I know that I can do it, I agreed to let the doctor do the first dose and watch me give the second in his office.  She wants to make sure I know what I’m doing.  Imagine that!

There are other drugs involved here, but I really need to leave something for Tamara to write about.  We all know how she loves to talk.  (Love you, Sweets!)

They will check her blood work after four weeks.  If she is responding, we will most likely continue with the limbo routine (How far can you go?).  Then, when the numbers are where they want them to be, we move over to the transplant team.

We ain’t passing up what He has put out there for us.  I know a helicopter when I see it!