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.
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I want you to know we're thinking of you every day, down here on the transplant floor. Dan, hang in there - your fight is very inspiring. Susan, if you need a break, let me know and I'll meet you for a coffee.
Jim and Andrea Greene
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