A Perfect Match!!!

We're back at Stanford for another round of chemo.  I'm writing this from the infusion center where Willie is currently getting treatment.  
Last Monday I got a phone call from Stephanie who is the nurse at the bone marrow transplant center.
"So I hear you got the good news!" she said in a cheery voice.
"Yeah," I replied "Dr. Medieros told us about the 3 possible matches."
"Is that all he told you?" she asked and I confirmed that he didn't give us much more information than that.
"Well then he didn't tell you the really good news." she paused for a moment as if she were waiting for me to guess.
"We found two perfect matches and the third is probably perfect, we just have to do more testing to see!"
I gasped.
The line was silent.
"That's....GREAT!" I replied, my voice revealing the shock I was feeling. She laughed on the other end of the line then it grew quiet again.
My mind was racing and I was trying to form a complete thought to carry on the conversation, but nothing was coming together.
"What happens next?" I finally said.
"Now we prepare the donor for transplant.  We like having more than one donor because they have to pass a physical and if they are sick in the slightest way or unable to donate then they are out.  With three possibles, if one fails we have two more!"
I liked her reasoning.  It seemed like a no fail plain in which one of them is bound to work.
"I do have to warn you though," she said, her tone lowering to match the subject "we have seen in the past that it is hard to get people to commit to donating around the holidays and we are asking this person to donate just before Thanksgiving.  That may be a for a match to drop out.  We'll hope that won't happen, but I'm just warning you it has happened before."
"Ok then," I said "We'll just hope the donor sees the holiday time off as a good time to donate!"
She agreed and encouraged the optimism.  She explained that they had created a schedule for the transplant and we should plan on coming down to Stanford the second week of November.  Everything felt like it was happening so fast and I had a million questions, but she assured me that we would be meeting in person many times before the transplant so we could take our time and think about it.
I thanked her and hung up.
Then I hyperventilated.
It felt like everything was happening so quickly.  I was reminded of riding on the merry-go-round when I was a child.  My siblings would push me around and around as I would scream for them to stop.  I hate spinning in circles; I hate anything that makes me feel like I've lost control.  This is the ultimate merry-go-round ride that we're on.  I wish it would stop!
I couldn't wait to tell Willie about his matches.  I was shocked at my response.  All the stress I had been feeling from the previous weekend had fled and I was now excited about this new beginning. 
"Guess what baby!" I shouted into the phone.
"Huh?" he grunted back.
He was busy painting the back steps and was obviously concentrating.
"I just got a phone call from the hospital and you have two perfect matches!"
He said nothing.
The silence was uncomfortable.
"Wow." He finally said as more of a statement than an exclamation.
"I know!" I replied.  "We go down the second week of November."
"Ok," he said flatly.
I felt disappointed as I hung up that he hadn't been as excited as I was.  But really, how could one be excited to be admitted into the hospital to receive radiation and chemotherapy so strong it could take the paint off a car?  I suppose the details are entirely un-exciting;  frightening even. 
The excitement lies in the possibility of a cure that the transplant presents.  We'll put in our time and stay here at Stanford until next February in hopes that after all is said and done we can go back to our normal lives without the constant threat of cancer.
Normal.
What is that?
Last night we went to a Giants game.  We usually go to at least one game each season and haven't had a chance yet this year.  We knew this would be our last opportunity to go when his counts were good and the Giants were in town so we bought tickets and crossed our fingers he would be feeling good enough to go.  And he felt great!
We donned our black and orange attire and Willie wore his SF Giants jacket that gets far too little wear.  We arrived at the park early and walked out to the field level to watch the opposing team warm up with batting practice.  We were in the far outfield and I was surprised by how many balls were flying out toward us.  Each time the outfielder caught a ball that was near the wall he would turn around and throw it into the small group of people gathered around.  He never threw one to us.  We were bummed.
We had awesome seats in the outfield where we could see everything.  It was foggy and cold and I snuggled up close to Willie.  It was a the perfect date.
When I was little I was obsessed with a movie called "Go Toward the Light."  It was a sappy tv network movie that was about a young boy who got AIDS from a blood transfusion.  His Mom fought for him to have a normal life against the stigma of the disease.  He was dying though, and his Mom prepared him for this by encouraging him to "go toward the light" when the time came.  It's not a film a small child should have enjoyed, but I was totally obsessed with it.  My favorite scene was when the boy was getting sicker and wanted to remember an event, I think it was a birthday party.  His Mom told him to take a picture with his heart so he could always keep it with him.
I've never forgotten that concept. 
Last night there was a moment when I looked over at Willie and remembered that movie.  The overhead lights captured his features perfectly as he concentrated on the game.  There was a look of complete contentedness on his face as he studied the field and commented to the players under his breath.  I leaned away from him to take in the whole scene and took a picture with my heart.  These are the moments I never want to forget.
Not that I'm losing him.  In no way do I feel like he's going toward any light any time soon, but Cancer has taught me to savor everyday moments.  I hope each of you can do the same without needing a diagnosis.  Look at your loved ones tonight and take a picture with your heart.  It will be a much better quality picture than any iPhone could take and will last much longer. 
We got more news tonight when we got to the center.  Stephanie, the nurse who I talked to on the phone last week, came in to meet with us while Willie was getting chemo.  We weren't expecting her and were surprised to see her.
She got straight to business.
"They donor has agreed to donate the day before Thanksgiving so we are a go!"
She has a way of dumping news without any preface.
"You'll be getting your transplant on Thanksgiving day, which is....." she searched for a word "Exciting!"
"Wow!" we replied.
WOW!
She handed us the revised schedule which now shows him getting the transplant on Thanksgiving day. What a perfect day for a transplant!
"Can we know anything about the donor?" Willie asked.
She paused a moment then said "I can tell you she's female.  I can also tell you her age and if she lives in the country, but I don't have that info with me right now.  Any other information will have to go through the transplant coordinator and they don't usually give you that until a year after transplant."
.....!
We asked some questions about housing and living arrangements and she directed us to our social worker.  She was kind enough to sit and talk with us for about 20 minutes, but in the end she referred all of our questions to the transplant doctor who we will be meeting with soon.  Our biggest concern is with the radiation Willie has to receive.  We are nervous about the long term effects of the treatments and want more info before we move ahead.
I felt like I had MORE questions after talking with her and I was an emotional mess by the time she left.  There are so many unknowns with this transplant and the risks are HUGE. It's the not-knowing gets me worked up.  I know that everything is going to be fine with Willie and I have complete faith that we will come out of this on top.  It's not knowing what it will take to get there that scares me. 
But that's not faith.
That's fear.
For now we move forward one step at a time as I keep reminding myself that I don't need all the answers RIGHT NOW.  We are so grateful to the mystery female who is giving us the greatest gift of all time this Thanksgiving. 
THANK YOU MYSTERY LADY!!!!
I know what we'll be thankful for this Thanksgiving and every year to come!