Radiation day crept up on me and left me no time to really mentally prepare myself. I tried so very hard to put up a brave front and felt so weak having to ask the nurse to up my anti-anxiety medication before I went down to the radiation oncology department. As every minute went by, my mind was racing faster and my blood pressure was naturally a bit higher that day. Ever since I was about 10 years old I always had this fear of radiation. X-rays and a few scans here and there were ok but full-on radiation exposure creeps me out. Something about the idea that invisible rays damaging the body is just so unsettling to me. For years I kept reassuring myself that I wouldn't need radiation therapy unless I was much older and ended up getting breast cancer, which seems to run in my family. But that was then...and this is now...and there's no transplant without a dose of total body radiation. So I bit the bullet.
The machine was monstrous compared to my tiny 5'2'' self.
It was intimidating as I climbed up onto the stretcher and laid down on my side. I asked to have some AC/DC music playing to get me going, but not even that could tune out the thoughts of worry screaming in my mind. I gripped my pillow, shut my eyes tight, and stayed on that stretcher for 30 minutes of exposure. It's true I didn't feel anything...just like taking a long X-ray. It's the fact that I couldn't feel the destruction that made my mind go numb.
After radiation, I was in a mental low and didn't feel like doing very much besides getting to the next day. I felt drained and disturbed to think that these invisible rays were entering my body, destroying my bone marrow and potentially damaging my organs in the long run. I've been reassured a thousand times that there are many safety checks and that the amount is measured on the tech's computers. It also was a very low dose. And in the end, I did it. I faced my greatest phobia...and I pray I never do that again.
The next day came along...March 20th...the first day of spring. It was only fitting for it to be my transplant date. They call it my "new birthday"...although I still prefer my own around Halloween, thank you very much. Anyway, the day started off as any other morning; getting up, grabbing breakfast, and making the walk across the street to the transplant clinic. I wasn't anxious or concerned at all and was just happy that the day finally came. I had been told that the transplant would be anti-climatic...though for me, it ended up being anything but. When I got to the clinic I had my vitals checked and they hooked me up to some pre-meds. My sister was already in surgery getting her bone marrow harvested for me. I was waiting in absolute anticipation.
(Just for you Noelle)
It wasn't until around noon that I got the big red bag full of my sister's bone marrow cells. They hooked me up the same way they would with any IV and I watched as the cells slowly dripped into my catheter. About 15 minutes into the infusion, things started to feel a bit odd. I was actually in the middle of FaceTiming with one of my dear friends when something just didn't feel quite right. My face started to feel flushed and I started to feel queasy. Shortly after I ended my call I spiked a fever of 103.5, was painfully vomiting, and I was shaking uncontrollably. Even piling 6 warm blankets didn't do the trick to stop the shakes, so the nurse decided to give me a bit of morphine which not only stopped the shaking but made me pass out.
Next thing I know, I wake up to the nurse telling me that I successfully completed the transplant and that the reaction I had was most likely due to the fact that some of my sister's red blood cells were still latched onto the bone marrow in the IV pouch. Since my sister's blood type is B- and mine is O+, it was like receiving an incompatible blood transfusion. Thankfully the moment the transplant was done the shakes subsided altogether and my fever began to drop. Despite that, they still instructed that I stay overnight in the hospital for monitoring around the clock. It was a very long and exhausting day and night.
In the end, everything turned out ok. The transplant was completed and now the long 60-day wait begins to see if it actually worked. I have a good feeling it will and I am confident that there will be a happy ending to this battle. The worst, I believe, is behind me. It's Day 3 now and I am just so grateful for every additional day that passes by. As I'm typing this I'm receiving my last round of chemotherapy to suppress my immune system so that my sister's cells can thrive. My white blood cell count is already below 1 and there is no going back at this point. I know in my heart that I've made the right choice to take on this transplant. I just pray that I have minimal side effects down the road. I'll give another update soon, I promise!!
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