7 Months later...

Greetings to all who followed this blog,

Unbelievably, it's been 7 months since Dan'a death. Before writing I reread a bit of the last posts--just snippets, since it's not the healthiest of activities to read and re-read some of those days. I was surprised at how I described things as if they were happening in a movie...how my writing was somewhat detached in order to remain communicative and functioning. The truth is the way I felt then and feel now is both physically and emotionally intense--at times overwhelming.

To relate it to another experience, I was in a rollover car crash when I was a kid. For some reason I was totally uninjured, so as soon as I was able to get out of the car, I started trying to figure out what to do about the situation: how were we were going to find someone to help us in the middle of nowhere? Is my sister ok? How damaged is this car? I remember distinctly that a bunch of Cd's had flown out of the car and were scattered everywhere. I started picking them up and putting them back, as if the act of restoring order would make it all OK. It was a needed distraction which prevented emotional chaos. On a completely different level, that is what I think happened after Dan died. Pure shock forced me into clean-up mode...and just like post-car crash, when the shock wears off, the picture becomes clearer and one feels more keenly the effects of reality. This is where I am today.

Now, as I sit and write in the tiny village of Cannon Beach, Oregon, the sun is shining (it's been an unusually "hot" they say) and summer is going and going...although not gone! For those of you who don't know my connection to this place, my mom owns a small motel in this touristy coastal town. My sister owns and operates a boutique. I have been alternately playing maid (indentured servant) and "lotion intern", helping them both during this busy season. It's been a lot of work, thankfully, and since I actually love physical labor, I've been mostly happy to pull weeds, make beds, and generally sweep up sand off of everything!

This is also the place where Dan and I were married on October 23, 2004. The dreamy picture on this blog was taken steps from my mom's place. The ocean is amazing, vast, and humbling, so every chance I get I run out there to walk on the sand or catch a glimpse of the sunset. It often makes me think of a poem Dan wrote--I think after his first visit to this place in 2002.

The Ocean cannot be convinced.
Its tide moves
In and out at will
And when
We recklessly try to change it,
It won't.

But this inevitability
Almost comforts me,
For I can count on
The rocking of the dock,
And a vast eternity
Of foaming sea.

A lot of people look for signs of the person they have lost or have dreams where the person visits and it's so real it's like seeing them again. This has not been my experience. I often imagine what Dan might do or say at a certain moment and I am always thinking about how what I am doing or saying is different because of the 11 years we knew each other, the difficult fact I face is that there was a past, but this present and future goes on without Dan. Sometimes this makes me angry, sometimes sad...a lot sad. I long to talk with him, to laugh with him, to brainstorm our lives together, but I can't. It's an impossible, unbelievable fact, but it's reality, and life is best lived in reality.

Something I started doing the day after Dan died was writing down specific memories--things he said or experiences we had; inside jokes and Dan-specific philosophies. Maybe I watched too much "Little House on the Prairie" as a kid, where the children always said things like, "I'm starting to forget ma..." but nevertheless I was in panic mode trying to preserve every last detail of Dan--somewhat as proof of how wonderful/unique/brilliant he was...but also to keep him alive to me. I scanned fragments of unfinished novels, pieces of character sketches, poems and letters he wrote to me...anything I could find--into our really slow scanner. Most of the time I did this late into the night--just as long as I could finish before I moved.

I have a perhaps irrational fear that people who never met Dan will think I am exaggerating or pulling a "hindsight" manoeuvre when I describe him, but as a wise friend of mine pointed out, even if that's true, it doesn't and cannot matter, since everyone had their own personal experience of Dan to begin with. Some knew him as the board game organizer; some as the 10-year-old boy who played the viola his grandfather bought him; some the intimidating and tall blond guy from Texas. I think of him as the best of the best of humanity. I think of myself like a person who won the jackpot but then lost it in a cruel bet with fate. But my experience of Dan...anyone's experience of Dan, cannot be diminished or taken away. We each own these experiences and they are indeed great gifts.

But all of this inspired talk does not take away from the fact that I miss him terribly and constantly and I wish I could have done something to have changed this outcome.

As in the past, I really appreciate anyone passing along these updates or the blog in general to friends, family, and even acquaintances. I have been so pleased to hear how deeply people have been affected by Dan's words. It's my hope that we can all share thoughts and memories about Dan here on this blog or delivered to my email address: susanmfritz@gmail.com, where I can work on a new compilation of sorts.

One more thing...if anyone out there is uncertain about whether or not to call or write me, please don't hesitate to do so...I am out here in the wilderness with the elk and raccoons, but I do love human contact! I'd love to know what YOU are up to, too, as I come closer to deciding what I will be up to next.

Much Love,
Susan

Thank you to All

Dear friends, family, and followers of this blog,

A good friend of mine reminded me of what I'd been meaning to do for a while now...update those of you who couldn't attend either memorial service. Dan's mom, Elizabeth Carlson, held another service in Minnesota this past weekend for many family and loved ones who were connected to Dan as a child growing up there (Dan lived near Minneapolis until the age of 10 when he moved to Texas). In other words, these past weeks have been filled, and I am just now starting to write people back.

This blog is a start, though, in my quest to thank all of you for the many different ways you've carried both Dan and I thought this past year and especially this past month. I would love to single out each significant person and give you all individual awards (maybe even a blue ribbon or 2), but for now I will just collectively thank everyone who shared their time, memories, and photos of Dan at the Memorial service in Philadelphia. You know who you are, but perhaps you'll never understand how amazing you are (I encourage you to try).

For those of you who were unable to attend, you were still there in spirit, and your cards, emails, thoughts, and prayers across the miles carried me through some of the darkest times. This continues to be true since each time I go to my mailbox I find a new heartfelt note...perhaps it has something to do with how young Dan was, but people are able to express themselves in a way that is uncommonly clear; your anger and sadness is almost primal.

I wish I could share every moment of the Philadephia Memorial with you here, but the truth is it was a bit of a whirlwind for me. However, the most important impression I took away was a phrase I've repeated to myself and others often: "they really got Dan". And I mean this in the most significant sense of the word "got". As his wife and biggest fan, I always understood what he was all about, but I was so touched that every person who spoke about him understood that his highest value and intention for living was to bring people together. Of course, Dan had a million other goals and values, but that in particular was abundantly clear and understood by all. And it made me happy to see that whether he knew it or not, people did indeed "get" that about Dan.

That's all for now, but I may add a few pictures or additional thoughts about the service. I also will continue to update you in other ways...i.e. "Susan has joined the circus" or "Susan has build the world's first biodegradable veggie hot dog hut and will be back when it biodegrades". To overuse this phrase, "in other words", I will continue to keep you updated, just as Dan will continue to live on in all of our hearts.

Dear family, friends, and loved ones -

Daniel Larry Fritz passed away on January 31. 2009. We would like to
extend our deepest sympathies to all of you in this incredibly
difficult time. Susan Fritz would like to invite all of you to attend
Dan's memorial service:

Date: February 15, 2009
Time: 4:00pm
Place: St. Mary's Episcopal Church
3916 Locust Walk
Philadelphia, PA

These services will take place on the University of Pennsylvania
campus, where Susan and Dan met - a place that Dan loved dearly.
Directions to campus are available at this website:
http://www.admissionsug.upenn.edu/visiting/directions.php
Once at 34th and Chestnut, you can make a left onto 34th street and go
three streets to Spruce Street. Turn right and make your way up to
39th street. You cannot access Locust Walk by car. You will have to
walk from either Spruce Street or Walnut Street.

After the service will be a more informal gathering, where all of
Dan's loved ones can share stories, pictures, poems - any kind of warm
memories associated with Dan. We will have some journals available at
this venue so that you can write any memories or stories as well. Food will be
provided at this venue:

Date: February 15, 2009
Time: 6:00pm
Place: The Carriage House
3907 Spruce Street
Philadelphia, PA

While such a gathering cannot help but be filled with great sadness, Susan
requests that we take it as an opportunity to celebrate Dan's life and
the happiness he brought to all of us.

In lieu of flowers, please direct donations to help Susan pay for
Dan's medical expenses and other associated expenses. Susan has a paypal account under her email susanmfritz@gmail.com.To donate money, please go
to www.paypal.com. If you don't already have a paypal account, it is
free and easy to set one up. You can choose to make payments with a
credit card or from a bank account. Once you have an account set up,
click on the "send money" link. From there, fill in the "To" field
with Susan's email address: susanmfritz@gmail.com.

If you do not wish to use paypal, checks can be mailed to :
Susan Myhr Fritz
37 Wall Street # 19H
New York, NY 10005

Finally, if anyone has pictures that they would like to share at the
gathering after the service, we request that you please send them to
Jim and Lynda Calderwood, who have kindly offered to gather all the pictures
and put them into a slide show. If you can attach them in an email to
lynda.calderwood@att.net, that would be wonderful.

If you have any questions or comments concerning the services, please contact:

Amanda Petry petry.amanda@yahoo.com (or call me at 724 229 0312).
Carrie Rieger Brownlie c.rieger.brownlie@gmail.com
Lisa Campbell lscampbe@alumni.law.upenn.edu


Warmest regards,
Amanda, Carrie, and Lisa

Here are the basic plans for Dan's Memorial Service. Thank you so much to my good friends from Penn who have organized the place, time, and date so that you may make your travel plans.

The service will take place next Sunday, the 15th. St. Mary's Church at 3916 Locust Walk is reserved for the service to begin at 4:00 (it may end up being closer to 4:30). We also have the Carriage House at 3907 Spruce St. reserved from 5 until 8 where there will be food available. The Carriage House will be an opportunity for people to share stories, pictures, and memories of Dan.

As far as hotels and travel goes, I know that our friend William Shatner at Priceline has many deals to offer for those who need to fly, and my friend Carrie has found some deals at hotels.com. I will give you the email addresses of these 3 amazing women so you can organize, coordinate, and ask any questions you might have. If they don't know the answers I'm sure they can direct you to someone who does.

This is a very sad time for all of us but also an amazing opportunity to get together to honor Dan and help each other with our grief.

Here are some places she found on hotels.com:

Sheraton Philadelphia University City Hotel $120/night
36th And Chestnut Sts
Philadelphia, PA, 19104
866-539-0036

Hilton Inn At Penn &150/night
3600 Sansom St
Philadelphia, PA, 19104
866-539-0036

Please email:

Carrie Rieger Brownlie: c.rieger.brownlie@gmail.com
Lisa Campbell: lscampbe@alumni.law.upenn.edu
Amanda Petry: petry.amanda@yahoo.com

Hello, all.

It may go without saying, but I am absolutely overwhelmed (in a good way) by your comments, memories of Dan, and offers to do anything to help. I wasn't very good for most of the year at taking people up on offers to help since it was sometimes difficult to even come up with anything, but I have to say that I'm ready for some help...and I think that what I need will come in stages; in waves.

I don't want to keep people hanging, especially since there is such geographic diversity for people, so I'll tell you the basic plan. Some good friends are working on the specific location, but the memorial service (tribute, I'd say) for Dan will be in Philadelphia President's Day weekend. Perhaps the 15th...although I can't guarantee that at this point. Dan and I met at the University of Pennsylvania when we were 18 and he spent many of his happiest times there. It feels right to me to all meet there.

Even if I get new news this evening I will write a new post, but for now, I'd ask you to all plan on President's Day weekend in Philadelphia.

All my love and gratefulness,
Susan

Many of you already know what happened yesterday and saw it coming in what I wrote, but Dan left us yesterday at around five minutes to 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

There's nothing that can really help me or anybody else from feeling intense devastation, pain, and sadness, but I will tell you how it happened and maybe you will smile a little through your tears.

Dan was supported by a breathing tube and different medications that were essentially keeping him artificially alive. It was a matter of time before his body gave out in spite of all of this support, but no one could say how long. We discussed with the doctors whether or not to keep him on these drugs or to start to remove them and let Dan die naturally...either way he would be comfortable, but in my mind and according to Dan's wishes, removing the support would be one last way for him to take back some control...to let him decide instead of medicine. I wanted to give him that, but as I sat there and they turned down only the blood pressure medication, I agonized over what to do next and thought I couldn't possibly let him go. It seemed like a split second later and without warning the doctor gave a surprised look at the medical monitor and said that Dan had just passed. These monitors have a lot of information on them and I saw the same "0" he did, but I was totally taken aback and couldn't believe he went just like that. The nurses and doctors all had said that people pick their time to go, but I didn't quite believe them until that moment.

I had somewhat of a "typical Susan" reaction. I laughed while I cried and then wondered how I could possibly be laughing. I said "thank you, Dan" over and over because HE decided, and it was clear he was ready and wanted to go on his terms. He amazed me yet again. I think I laughed because I felt a little relief and a profound sense of gratefulness to him for helping us all through that final moment. My mom, his mom, and I were all there, and I told him over and over before and after he was sedated how much everyone loved him and cared about him, and that it was ok to be tired because we know he gave it all he had.

If I could change anything, I would have taken this terrible illness away from Dan and thrown it back into the pits of hell where it belongs, but since I couldn't do that, the only other option was to let him go so this pain could end.

I'm sure many of you are wondering what kind of service we will be having for Dan, and I've just begun to work on that and have some ideas that I think will pay tribute to him, but as you can imagine, this is a tough new kind of day for me, and there are many things to do. Dan is going to be cremated, which gives us a window of time to plan. It is important to me that all of you who knew and loved Dan be able to come and participate in his memorial service, so I will keep you updated in the coming week.

Just as many of you have expressed a loss for words, I am also at a loss when it comes to the thanks I want to give you all. You are some amazing people and I hope to see you soon. Susan

My fingers are shaking and this will have no edits. They have tried everything medicine has but this infection has taken over and although Dan is still fighting and hanging on, he is dying. I use that word because I am already weary of "he's not going to make it" or "he's not doing well". He was so tired and he told the nurses and doctors he just wanted to "go into a coma" if that meant he's get a rest. He is very comfortable and in no pain. They are giving him drugs to keep his blood pressure up, etc., but it won't be long until his body is too taxed.

I will write more later but I want you all to know how much you all mean to us and how we have felt your love and support in every way. I can say my life will never be the same because of having known and been married to Dan. It would not have been as enriched, although my heart is broken because he is leaving us...he is my hero.

He never wanted people to visit him when he felt terrible or wasn't able to enjoy company, so I know it's the right thing to do to let him rest without too many people seeing him in this state (although my mom, his mom, and his brother are here).

He still looks good to me. Much love, and I am sorry for all of us. Susan

I am writing from the computers at the ICU and I wanted to give everyone waiting an update. Dan's breathing became increasingly labored today, and although his oxygen levels and heart still looked ok, the doctors were concerned that his body was getting much too tired to continue on with such labored breaths. They discussed the possibility of "intubation" or installing a breathing tube, and we all--doctors from many departments, Dan himself, and I decided that that would be the best option. It means that he will be sedated as long as the tube is in. He should be able to hear people but he won't be able to respond. Dan was in and out of lucidity (for lack of a better word) today so I asked him as many different ways as I could what he wanted to do, and his answer was "let's do it" since his body and mind just want to rest.

The silver lining of hope and the idea is still to give him the white blood cell transfusion tonight and continue with the antibiotics, so if his body doesn't have to work so hard they are able to buy some time to see if these things work. His leukemia doctor said they want to give him every chance available, and that's what helped make this decision.

They just completed placing the tube in, along with a feeding tube should he need it. I don't need to say that the past few moments were the most surreal and difficult of my life. That said, there is still the hope that his body will figure out how to fight this infection and he'll be able to breathe on his own soon.

That's all I can write for now. I will have to see if visitation is an option in the coming days...probably not, but there's family here so that is good.

Much love to all and know I can feel the love back. Also, I know that Dan wants you to think of him in his healthy state, free to do all of the things he loves and not a victim of this terrible disease.
Susan

Today brought a turn of events in the wrong direction--one which I knew was a possibility, but I and the entire 12th floor of Sloan-Kettering hoped we could avoid.

The Intensive Care Unit doctors came today since the persistent pseudomonis infection that's been causing most of Dan's recent problems came back and is not responding very well to antibiotics. His heart rate is still very high and his fevers are too persistent to leave alone, so they decided it would be best to take him to the Intensive Care Unit. His blood pressure has also been dropping to dangerously low levels so they need to be able to control that with medications. The ICU unit is so much more able to deal with these serious complications, but it's a last resort because it means he's gotten significantly sicker.

I am in the large waiting area while they install some new "lines" so they can better monitor and control his blood pressure and deliver the medications, take blood, etc. without poking him all of the time. They are trying every weapon in their arsenal and are very creative people. I trust that they are offering Dan the best chance he could have on the planet earth right now, but we'll have to see if this infection has a different idea. He will also be getting a white blood cell injection tomorrow, something they don't often do but thought of as another tool to stimulate his body's own fight. The ICU doctor said this was sort of a "Hail Mary pass", and although I'm not Catholic, I would convert if it worked.

The next couple of days will be critical in determining if there's a way to fight this infection. Since I know some of you worry about me, I will tell you that my mom is coming to stay with me. She's a huge support and source of comfort to me so I'm glad she'll be here.

They don't allow people to stay overnight so I will going home to change my clothes and take a needed shower. I'm sure they'll appreciate that in the ICU.

Dan is still fighting really hard and so am I. The transplant is still scheduled and is still the ultimate goal, so keep visions of that in your thoughts tonight.

Neither Dan nor I include much detail in these posts (Dan prefers to leave out the "gory details" since they are quite personal and unnecessary, but I thought I'd give a semi-detailed post today so everyone's on the same page. Here goes:

January 8th was Dan's last day of chemotherapy, but as I mentioned last post, it takes a long time for his blood counts to recover after such a massive dose. Everyone here at Sloan is anxiously awaiting the recovery of his counts, especially the White Blood Cell count, so that Dan's body can start to fight along with the antibiotics. Every day they poke him at least once or twice to take his blood for cultures and to determine where the other levels of the blood are--hemoglobin, platelets, electrolytes, etc. The cultures, which take several days to produce results, determine what, if any, infections are present. The latest fever-producing infection, called Pseudomonas, was negative for a few days but came back again as positive. This means they have to pull out a heavy-duty antibiotic since this bug has become resistant to the last antibiotic.

I can't remember the last time I had a fever--maybe back in the 90s...Dan's had one on and off for many days and it takes its toll in many ways. Since he hasn't been able to swallow much except some ice chips for about 2 weeks, I can also imagine that his body would appreciate some nourishment. (Why they can't feed him intravenously is that the glucose promotes infection...there's always a plus and a minus with every treatment, it seems). As bad as he feels and this all sounds, the doctors are saying he's still doing well for a person in his position...they weren't joking around when they said this part would be rough. They also say that the transplant, which is scheduled but I refuse to write about due to intense superstition, will be a "piece of cake" compared with this part. Maybe more like a piece of cake with shards of glass inside, but I know what they mean.

I hope the next 24 hours will show that the new antibiotic is taking effect. That's where we stand today. It's true what you may have gathered or heard--I do spend most of my time in this hospital room, even sleeping here much of the last two weeks so I can stay on top of Dan's condition and help him out when he needs it. That said, I continue to appreciate your understanding while I communicate minimally with you in the outside world...and I know you are all hoping, praying, and sending good thoughts to us here.

Susan again. First, thanks to all of you who wished me a happy birthday via card, email, or Starbucks! I actually did have a great day with my best childhood friend Jill who came to visit NYC for the first time. Of course I also spent much of the day with Dan. The nurses even brought ME a balloon and cup cake...Red Velvet, which you should try if you haven't. They even sang to me...they are the best!

Dan's progress is slow but steady after an exhausting week. To say he's been a trooper is like saying Michael Phelps is a decent swimmer. Everyone involved here at Sloan is hoping for his white blood cell count to appear in the next few days, which would provide some major relief on many fronts. For now he is very sleepy, although each day we go walking a little bit further and more frequently around the floor. He's been receiving multiple platelet and blood transfusions every day since his own bone marrow is still wiped out, but again, all of this is to be expected due to the extremely high doses of chemotherapy he received.

I always loved "The Tortise and the Hare" story when I was a kid...and I always rooted for that tortise...and no matter what the story's edition he always won.

Susan again: just a quick update...time flies and I realize I haven't written anything for a few days.

Dan has had one of the toughest weeks yet but is doing an amazing job of pulling through. I am knocking on wood as I write this (and ask you to do the same), that the infection causing his fevers is under control. Now he just waits with a huge cast of antibiotics until his white blood cell count reappears/recovers. It's been at 0 (re: zero) for over a week as expected after such a huge dose of chemotherapy. We are all waiting for that moment...even 0.1 white blood cells would assist his weary immune system.

It will happen next week...until then, find some wood (or use your head if there's none around) and please keep knocking.

A little update from Susan:

Since last he wrote, Dan has experienced a similar level of discomfort from the mucositis (mouth sores), but it is improving and he's figured out a way to tolerate it. The latest challenge has been dealing with persistent fevers. As a side note, thanks to our friend Celsius, the unit of measurement for temperature used here at Sloan, I can now translate temperatures to approximately what they should be in Fahrenheit...one of the many skills I have acquired.

The major event today was the removal of Dan's mediport, the device that's been used to "plug him in" to his various IVs for the past year. Apparently the infection that's causing these fevers feeds off of plastic implants. Their hypothesis is that it's removal will starve that particular bacteria and the antibiotics will be able to do their job since he still has no white blood cell count. Unfortunately, that means that for now Dan will get everything he needs through "peripheral" veins (i.e. the arm or the wrist). Ouch.

If you haven't noticed, I am learning a lot about what nurses and doctors do here at the hospital, as well I should since I certainly spend a lot of time here. A few of you have asked me if it's anything like ER or House, and my answer is, well, not quite. Although I try to provide quick wit and dramatic monologues for the staff, reality is never quite as eloquent or straightforward as TV...but never fear, I am taking notes for next year's role in the latest medical drama.

I will now sign off since this is Dan's blog and he'd never write so much. I am amazed at how many of you keep up with this blog. It means a lot and it helps. Thank you.

Cancer is a disease of extremes. I was feeling extremely well on Tuesday and extremely unwell by Wednesday. I am suffering from severe mouth and throat sores but should recover within 2 weeks. This is all due to the high doses of chemotherapy that finished last week and is not abnormal but is extremely painful.

In the meantime, Susan's birthday is January 24th so send her a Starbucks card.

That's all for now, Dan.

Donating bone marrow, saving lives - CNN.com*
http://www.cnn.com/2009/HEALTH/01/12/hm.bone.marrow/index.html

FYI: a cool article from Amanda -- by the way, you can always decline to donate if the need arose and you had lost interest.

Hi-Dan here again. Plan D of chemo is done, and I am in recovery until early Feb. Assuming all goes well, I will move directly into the transplant. There are still several people lined up and ready to donate when the time comes. I have been feeling much better over the past couple of days, but as always, I tread a fine line. I am fortunate to have a single room right now, so there are no roommate considerations I have to think about. No more cowering in the corner with my urinal.

Thanks to all the recent visitors and well-wishers, and I hope everyone has been enjoying the snow.

Hi, it's Susan here again.

I'm back for a blog post after a busy week of organization, family visits, and the start of Dan's latest treatment. First, though, thank you to my friend Meret for taking the reigns and acting as our visit scheduler during this time. It's something I didn't realize I needed but did, especially when the latest news came so suddenly and the treatment started sooner than expected.
.
So here's what Dan just said: "Cytoxan is no joke". Cytoxan (the name says it all) is the second of the two chemotherapy drugs he'll be getting over his 6 days of treatment. He's had it before in combination with different drugs so he knows its effects, but this time we're going to think of it as a friendly poison, a chemical ninja warrior going into battle against the leukemia cells. I got a little New-Agey on him and suggested this visualization. Here are some of my thoughts.

I know how much you all want to DO something for Dan, and you have through your cards, visits, positive thoughts, prayers, etc. But I have a new request based on concepts I've been thinking about lately...to not only send good and positive thoughts, but embody those thoughts; raise your own spirits. By doing so I believe you make an automatic difference wherever you are. Plus, when the opportunity arises again to visit Dan, you will be in the best state possible to share yourself with him.

So...I hope I or Meret will be able to set up visits again soon. Dan said again today that he likes people to visit but wants the option to say no. In the meantime, I have to pack up my crystals and magic 8-ball, so I'll sign off for now.

Meret here. Just a brief update about visitors. Susan wrote 

"It seemed like a good idea when he wasn't getting the chemo yet to have visitors, but the game really has changed. We'll have to see how it goes tomorrow, but as of tonight [Monday] he told me that too many visitors in a week is overwhelming....he can handle the ones he has [already scheduled], but no more for this week. I know it sounds like a total change and it is, but the way he feels turns on a dime. We love these people, but since the sole purpose is to raise his spirits and make him feel good, it won't if he's not up for it."

She also regretted that she isn't interacting with everyone individually but said "If I spend all of my time with my head in my Blackberry, I'm going to miss the time I need to be present with Dan." 

For now, since visits are out, perhaps the best way to show support is to be old-fashioned and write notes and cards for Dan to have in his room. Anyone who's YouTube-production friendly could also post a short (30 seconds or less) video saying hi. It does him good to know we're rooting for him, but this treatment seems to be coming down pretty hard.

When I have a bit more health news, I'll post it. In the meantime, thanks for all the offers to visit.

Meret here, Saturday night. I just got the following from Susan.

"We got word that the chemo would be starting tonight and it did show up about an hour ago, so things have begun. I was also surprised that it would start today, but they don't see any reason to wait since everything else looks good. He is also starting to have some intense bone pain, which, if it's the same as before, is a sign of the leukemia. It's actually painful in his bones and a lot in his teeth. He's on pain medication now constantly, and they are also hoping it will go away with the chemo. There are several humongous bags over the next 6 days...he's getting an incredible amount of fluid to continuously flush his system so he has to be careful of his blood pressure changing too fast...Our friends visited today and were great about kicking themselves out, though Dan kept talking to them for a while...but I was so happy with that visit. He was laughing and they were laughing...it was really helpful, I think. He went to sleep right after that, but it really raised his spirits. I could see it."

Susan went on to say that she thought Dan would like to see folks he hasn't seen for awhile, so if anyone has been thinking about visiting, perhaps now is the time. She mentioned that the "five-minute visit" rule was great, because it lets Dan rest if he's tired. I don't know how the chemo and the pain meds will affect things, but as long as everyone is sensitive to the fact that there's no predicting what the situation will be for any given visit, I think we should keep the visits coming.

If you can't come, please send your thoughts the old fashioned way--via snail mail, to their home. Susan will bring cards and letters to the hospital. They are a tangible reminder that we're thinking of Dan (and Susan) so mail early and often.