Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Past title was interpreted incorrectly...my fault.

This is just a few images of the house, most just recently sent to me by my neighbors.
The last photo is Donna, dogs and myself 2013. Seeing that Donna is still in the hospital as of today, day 88, I thought the images would encourage her to get stronger.


Saturday, December 6, 2014

The ugly side of a blood disease

Acute Myeloid Leukemia is a blood disease no one wants to face. After battling the disease for the last 9 months, my wife gave me the okay to blog it. I only blog it to show the determination, courage and fortitude that my wife has shown this year...and every year I have known her. Me? I would of asked to be dropped off in the middle of the desert and left alone.

It's amazing that my wife can on occasion, find a smile...the same smile that melted my heart 39 years ago at a Denny's restaurant  The crazy monkey hats have nothing to do with it, right?

Donna is starting to acquire a substantial number of fun hats to wear in the hall of the hospital. Her stay this time is now 9 weeks longs, so anything that can flip a frown upside down is cool with me.

Unfortunately, most of Donna's journey... is a lonely one.

The reality of this blood disease is what the doctors treat it with, a witches brew of some of the most toxic chemicals on earth. All applied with the certainty of flipping a coin, their constant adjustments at times will cause the patient having to fight for their life...but in an imperfect world, the experts with chemicals can, and do make mistakes. 

To better inject the poisonous brew, the surgery unit places a Hickman catheter, which allows for multiple IV's to feed the toxins straight to the source...the body. 

The once beautiful hands of my wife have been starved to the bone while bruising with the slightest of touch.

The legs aren't immune to the ravages of chemo, radiation, and  chemicals either. One quote the doctors seem to agree on is...if you get leukemia, you will die from leukemia...even if it's 20 years after transplant.

There is always hope... but sometimes, even with a loving caregiver to help you on this journey,  it still feels like you are on this trip alone, partly because there is no one who really knows the uncertainty, the pain, the hopelessness or the loneliness as that of the patient.

Why is this blog shot in "black and white"? 
No amount of color, prose or gloss could put any beauty in a dreadful disease as this, courage yes...beauty... no!