The Unsinkable Willie Beavers



I've had crazy dreams lately.  I always seem to have more vivid dreams when I'm away from home, but these dreams lately have ranked pretty high on the crazy scale.  The other night I dreamed that Willie and I were being chased by men wearing civil war clothing and carrying bayonet guns.  They were shooting at us and we were dodging the giant, paint ball sized bullets that were raining all around us.  We came up on a hill and threw ourselves down it, tumbling head over foot like that scene from "The Princess Bride."  I was picking up sage brush, twigs and stickers as I rolled down the hill, but when we got to the bottom Willie was surprising unscathed.  I laid at the bottom on the hill, hoping the sage brush would hide me from the fast approaching enemy.  Willie had no cover and as he stood up the enemy opened fire.  I watched in horror as rounds of fat bullets hurdled toward him.  He stood, still as a statue, as the bullets hit him in the chest then fell to the ground as if he was protected by a shield.
The enemy continued to fire as the bullets bounced off him like raindrops.  Will bent down, picked up a bullet, then rolled it around in his hand. 
"That's all they got?" He said to me, smiling.
That's when I woke up.  What a silly dream!  Today we discovered the meaning of the dream.
The resident doctor woke us up this morning when she came in to exam Willie. She is always so pleasant so we don't mind her being our alarm clock.  She reported that Will's white count has risen another fraction of a point and he is now at 0.3!  Any movement upward is a victory to us so we all celebrated a little.  His red count has held steady since his last infusion, but he will need platelets again today.  She examined Willie and said that he is doing great and that he is at the crossroad where the counts should start coming up.
She opened the door to leave then turned around
"You know yesterday when you asked about only receiving chemo for 4 days?" she asked. 
We nodded.  We had asked the team how it was possible that he got away with only 4 days of chemo when every other person on this unit has to do weeks on end of the drugs.
"I thought about it last night and I thought that maybe you are thinking it wasn't effective because the chemo was so short and you are doing so well." 
She was exactly right.  That is what we were trying to ask, but hadn't phrased well yesterday.  How is it that he got away with only 4 days of chemo and he tolerated it better than some people handle the common cold?
"I want to assure you that you did in fact receive chemo!" She said, and we all laughed. 
"In fact," she said "we gave you the strongest stuff we have, so we are just as amazed as you are at how well you are doing!  The reason other people receive treatments for a longer amount of time is because we can't give them as big of a dose so they receive the same amount you did, it just takes a lot longer to administer it."
Suddenly my dream made sense.  He has taken hits from the strongest chemo out there like bullets hurled at his chest, but just like the dream, he has proven to be stronger than the drugs.  It's like he is standing here with an IV of the strongest medication available pulsing through him while saying "that's all you got?"

He is a champ.  Nothing can touch Willie Beavers!

It is his strength that I first became acquainted with years ago.  It was well known around the camp that we worked at that he was the strongest, most intimidating person on campus.  He always wore tank tops that revealed his threatening biceps and a camouflaged hat that was printed in yellow,black and grey.  The biceps were helpful in building his intimidating persona, but the hat, I felt, was always a bit on the silly side.  It was a fisherman's style hat with a large floppy brim and long leather ties that he kept fastened under his stern goatee.  It was the type of hat you would expect to see old men wearing as they relaxed their retired lives away in fishing boats, but Will wore it as if it were a uniform and I quickly learned that you don't question Will Beavers or mock any of his apparel, no matter how silly it may seem!
He would do rounds around the campus at night to make sure that campers and counselors were where they were supposed to be.  Anyone who crossed him on the wrong side of curfew can tell you that the results aren't pretty. 
Will Beavers was the law and that law could not be debated.
I was the new girl at camp and the innocent Utahn that was begging to be pranked.  The first week of camp I was called into the main office.  They needed me to run over to Beaver's room and tell him that he was needed to take a camper to a Dr.s appointment.  It was around 9AM and the rest of the camp was already up so I assumed he would be awake as well.  I walked over to the Men's dorms which were referred to a "the donuts."  That year the camp had moved from its usual cabin and campground style location to a college campus.  The college kids were gone for the summer so the counselors and campers stayed in the empty dorms.  The boys dorms were build in an unusual circular style with the common room in the middle and the rooms surrounding it.  It looked like a donut and it was easy to become lost when trying to find a room.
That's exactly what I did that morning I was sent to find Will.  I wandered around the donut, knocking on doors and calling his name until it became clear that he wasn't there.  I returned to the main office to report my findings. The morning meeting was just beginning and I was surprised when the entire room erupted in laughter when I reported that I wasn't able to find Beavers to deliver the message.
"You tried to wake up Beavers!" one of the counselors said incredulously.  "You've got guts!"
I soon learned that they had been trying to prank me by having me wake up the sleeping Beaver which is one of the most dangerous things one can do.  I laughed along with them, while simultaneously making a mental note to avoid Will Beavers.  If he was so tough that people were using him to pull pranks on each other, then I wasn't sure if I was strong enough to last in his presence.
I began to tread gently around him.  A few nights later, my friend and I went in search of a guy that lived in Will's donut.  We entered the common room and I was immediately on edge when we found Beavers sitting in the middle of the room, kicked back in an easy chair with his hat secured in place.
"What's up?" He greeted us, in a normal, non-threatening tone. 
I don't think I had talked to him much before this moment and remember being surprised that he actually greeted us.  We asked about the guy we were looking for and he informed us he was gone. We turned to leave but he stopped us
"Why don't you stay a while?" he said, motioning to another pair of easy chairs "sit down!"
We sat, more out of duty than desire.
I remember the silence that followed.  It seemed to stretch out forever and I felt the need to fill it with mindless chatter, but remained silent in fear of this man that was also know as "the Beav".  I have always been a mindless babbler.  I have no problem discussing the stupidest of topics for hours on end.  Will, on the other hand, rations out his conversations with careful precision.  In a way I'm jealous of that quality because it adds a level or importance to the small amount of things he does say.
When Beavers speaks, the world listens!
He finally broke the silence by asking where we were from and that launched us into a conversation that ended up lasting all night.  We talked about our families, our goals for the future and then pondered the deep questions on life.
"Beavers," I asked, in a quiet moment near the end of the night "What makes you happy?"
It was asked lightly, in a joking way, but I was actually curious.  What made this guy tick?  I had to know.
"Oh you know," he said, leaning back and lacing his fingers together behind his head "A little bit of this, that and the other!"
I have never laughed so hard.  Life according to Beavers is a beautifully simple thing.
That may have been the defining moment of the beginning of our relationship.  I left there that night more fascinated with this curious man than I was afraid of his demeanor.  I liked his view of life so much that I later stitched his statement onto a pillow as a gift,  It reads:
"You know what makes me happy? A little bit of this, that and the other."
We have been together for 6 years now and our lives have been nothing but happiness, filled with a little bit of this that and the other.  Our current challenge would probably fall into "the other" category, but we are still managing to find happiness in our trials.
Our lunch date today was awesome!  We walked over to the Nexus cafe which is the secret cafeteria we discovered on our walk last night.  They had an overwhelming amount of options and Will and I finally settled on Mexican food.  We ate our food outside under the afternoon sun.  It was fantastic!
We are still awaiting results from the bone marrow biopsy.  There was talk of the results coming in today, but it's after 5PM and I have a feeling the lab has closed down for the day.  We will keep you posted as we hear results.  Until then, keep your fingers crossed and your prayers coming that the results will be good!
Happy Wednesday Everyone!  And may the Giants win tonight!

Tender Mercies

I think the biggest questions that come to mind when one is diagnosed with cancer is "how did this happen?"  "What wrong step did I take that led to this?"  "What could I have done differently to prevent this?" If these question could be answered then there would already be a cure for cancer.  The doctors we have asked these questions to are very candid in admitting that they simply don't know what causes it.  In Will's type of Leukemia they have noticed trends in the lifestyles of people who contract it.  They say that it is possibly caused by pesticide and chemical exposure.  Age is a factor and most people with his type of leukemia are over 60 years old. 
They asked a lot of questions about Will's working history and any possibility of chemical exposure.  We live in a community that is surrounded by rice fields and he has worked some brief stints of time in the fields.  He is a plumber and is exposed to all sorts of crazy things, but not a whole lot of chemicals.  We reported this to the doctors and everything was written into his rapidly growing file, but nothing was pointed out as a probable cause.
"I wish I could go back in time and do things over," Will said, the first night after he was diagnosed "I would do things differently."
I assured him that there was no guarantee that even if he did things over that the results wouldn't be the same.  There's just no way to plan for these things.
I am somewhat of a freak when it comes to avoiding chemical and pesticide exposure.  A few years ago  I got pretty sick with what I thought was the flu that I couldn't seem to kick for weeks on end.  My doctor discovered I had pesticide poisoning that was most likely from produce consumption.  Since then I have been extremely careful about the source of our produce and products that enter our home.  I use no chemical cleaning products or purchase anything with possible pesticide exposure or added chemical crap ingredients.
Chemical additives of any variety a hot topic with me.  I get a bit heated and step onto my soap box when the subject comes up.  Just today I needed to buy some shampoo and the only thing they sold in the tiny gift shop was a bottle of blue colored shampoo.  BLUE SHAMPOO!  This is exactly the type of thing that gets me on that soap box.  What is so wrong with our society that makes us think that we NEED blue shampoo or that we think blue shampoo is OK.  That shampoo is blue from a chemically added color that does nothing to enhance or improve the product in any way.  All it does is present a chemical load that our skin must detox.  The skin is the bodies largest organ and we are constantly attacking it with with silly chemical exposures like this.  It would be one thing if the only exposure we had in a day was the blue shampoo we use in the morning, but this sadly is just the start to a series of bad chemical decisions that follow.
After our chemically colored shampooing we will probably put heavy metals under our armpits to prevent sweating then lather our bodies with hydrating lotion products that contains chemicals toxic to many body systems.  Most of us are short on time so we will then eat a quick breakfast of cold cereal or grab a "healthy" breakfast bar that are both so chemically processed that they shouldn't even be allowed to be called a food.  So many chemicals and we haven't even left the house yet!
I'm not putting myself or my household on a pedestal here.  We are just as guilty as any other family of being tempted by the "convenience" products of life.  I do, however, believe that when you know better, you do better and it aggravates me that most of us simply don't know what we are exposed to each day.  It is just silly to me that we are so accustomed to these types of products that the idea of using a shampoo that isn't colored seems wrong!
End of soap box rant.
We have been working on having a chemical free household for that past two years.  My goal has been to learn how to home-make a commercial product each month and replace the chemically laden version in our home.  About a year ago I started making our own laundry detergent.  It is incredibly easy to make and costs pennies per load, so not only are you saving on the chemicals, but the pocket book is happy too!  I was so happy with my discovery that when I went home to visit my family in January of this year, I carted several quart jars of the soap along in the car to give to as gifts.  I distributed all but one jar that was intended for my best friend.  A few weeks after I returned home I asked her what she thought of the homemade laundry soap.
"What soap?" she asked in complete confusion.
"The laundry soap I made!" I said, still proud of myself for making it. (Which I am considering my greatest life achievement thus far!)
She said I never gave it to her and after some convincing I realized I had left it on the floor of our car.
Fast forward to last week.
While my Mom was visiting she was nice enough to wash our clothes with a regular laundry soap.  It was the first time in a year that we have used regular soap and the scent made me sneeze. When I put on one of the shirts my skin itched and I got a rash from the detergent.  This was no good at all!  Today we ran out of clean clothes and I knew I would need to buy some detergent at the laundromat.  The idea of washing another batch of clothes in the itchy soap was not exciting to me and I racked my brain to think of alternatives.  Suddenly, the conversation with my best friend came to my mind.  Had I ever removed the laundry soap I had placed in the car that was intended for her?  I couldn't remember so I hurried to the car to find out.

The miracle soap!

There was nothing on the back seat floor, but when I reached far under the passenger seat I found the jar of laundry detergent I had deposited there 5 months before.
It was a miracle!
Another word for this type of miracle is a "tender mercy."  Tender mercies are blessings that are so perfectly timed that there is no confusing tbat the gift comes from a higher source.  We have had so many of these tender mercies on our journey that it is impossible to deny that we are walking this road alone.
I know laundry detergent is a silly blessing, but it meant the world to me today.  I washed all of our clothes and loaded them into the car with no sneezing or itching whatsoever!  When I got back to the hospital Willie and I went for a walk.  He is feeling good today and no longer has to be hooked to his IV pole all day long so we celebrated by taking a long walk.
We walked around campus and found some awesome restaurants and cafeterias.  Willie is still boycotting the hospital kitchen for their lack of quality service so we were excited to find a really nice, reasonably priced restaurant about a 5 minute walk away.  We already have a lunch date planned for tomorrow.

Dad duck chasing away female duck

We walked by the fountain and watched the baby ducks for a while.  There is a family of mallard ducks that had 8 babies hatch about a week ago.  We stumbled across them last week on day they had hatched.  They were swimming around like naturals so I never would have guessed they were brand new until the hospital staff discovered them and said that they hadn't been there the previous day.  There is a mom and dad duck and they take careful care of their 8 fuzzy babies.  The fountain also contains another lonely couple who have no fuzzy babies.  Today we were entertained by the exchange between the baby-less female duck and the new daddy duck. 
The baby-less female duck would swim over near the new mama and admire the babies.  The new dad would get upset and chase her out of the water.  The baby-less dad duck would then get involved and chase the dad duck away from his woman and soon all the ducks were quacking and telling each other what was what.  At one point the dad duck took the other male duck by the tail and shooed him out of the water then his woman told the whole hospital what she thought of that!
It was entertaining.  We had a good laugh.
We heard today that the "strength for willie" wristbands have sold out and they will be ordering more soon.  The tee shirts will be at the Health Habit tomorrow and the design on the shirt is amazing. (Thank you to Kyle B. for designing and Kyle C. for printing the shirts!  Together, the Kyles are unstoppable!)
We are so blessed to have amazing friends and caring community members who have united to help us fight this fight.  Thank you all for your support in word, deed and monetarily.  We will never be able to adequately express the gratitude we feel for each of you. 
We hope you all have a wonderful night!  ("Even though the Giants lost in the bottom of the 9th!" says Willie.)

Bone Marrow Biopsy: 3rd Time's the Charm!

Rainy Monday

Today it rained.  We woke up to a sky filled with heavy clouds, threatening to unload their rain at any moment.  There was a chill in the air that cut through my thin teeshirt as I walked out to the car to get some clothes.  Our hospital room is tiny and filled to the limit with the hospital bed and my cot that we shoved in the corner.  I think I may be the only family member staying in the unit with the patient because every visiting family member I have met has been surprised when I tell them I have a cot in the room.
"I didn't know I was allowed to stay in the room!" One woman said after learning this.  Her husband has been here for months and she has been staying in a hotel down the road.  I'm not sure if I am allowed to stay in here or not because we never asked if it was ok.  We just told them I needed a cot and they made it happen!
There is a small bedside table that holds a few clothing items, but not enough for our extended stay.  Thus, I keep most of our clothes in the car and I make a trip out to stock up on clothes every so often.  On my trip back from the car it started to pour.  The nice thing about a rainy day is it makes it a lot easier to be stuck inside.  The rain also matched the quiet mood in our room.  We were informed last week that Willie would need another bone marrow biopsy and it was scheduled for today.  After the drama of his last biopsy, it is understandable that he would have a bit of anxiety about today.  It is not his favorite procedure by any means.
The team made their rounds and told us that he would be getting his biopsy at 2PM.  We had heard that there is a nurse practitioner named Carl who is "the best" at doing these biopsies so we asked for him by name.  The team had heard of his skill as well and assured us they would get him to do it. 
 Willie has had some really good days and his energy has been good.  Two sets of friends came to visit yesterday and we had company from noon until 7PM.  We spent the day laughing and reminiscing and it was exactly the lift that his spirits needed for today. 
We waited out the morning with a bit of angst. At 1PM the nurse came in with a shot of vicodin.  We were thinking this would be the IV administered type of shot, but instead it was a cough syrup/drink-it-down type of shot.  He drank it back and said it tasted like cough syrup.  I thought it was funny that vicodin came in such a form.
Carl showed up at 1:30 PM and introduced himself.  He is impossibly young looking with light sandy hair and baby smooth cheeks.  He has a sensitive quality about him and carries an empathetic energy that makes me think he owns several rescue cats and cries when he watches Hallmark commercials.  He was not the bulk and brawn that we thought we would see from someone who carries the title of being the best at drilling through hip bones.  He talked us through the procedure and as he did, he put us both at ease.
"I hate doing these procedures" he admitted "but I am the best at doing them so you have nothing to worry about."
This kind of self gratification may have been annoying in another setting, but that was exactly what we needed to hear.  We wanted the best and we got it!
He had Willie sign release papers then left to get his supplies promising to return on time for his 2PM appointment.
"I hate being late for my appointments." He said as he left, and we knew he would not make us wait as so many others have done.
He showed up at 2:05 PM and we were in place, ready to go.  Willie laid on the bed, sporting his superman shirt for added support.  His Mom gave him this shirt when we entered the hospital as a reminder that he is just as incredible as Superman and can do anything.  He had been saving the shirt to that very moment to prove just how super he is. 
Carl removed his lab coat revealing a carefully pressed checkered shirt and creased khaki pants. He was dressy, yet trendy and his casual Adidas sneakers gave away the secret of his youth.  He carefully laid out every item he would need for the biopsy then checked the clock.  It was 2:15 and the fun was about to begin.
From the moment he started to procedure, we could see he indeed was the best.  He numbed Willie with two tubes of local anesthetic where the previous MD's had only used half a tube to one one.  He had a third tube filled on back up as he carried on with the procedure.  This guy does not mess around.  He had barely numbed the skin when he was inserting the drilling device and getting down to business. 
Willie winced as he tried to enter the bone so he shot a bit more anesthetic into the area and continued on.  There was no problem that time so he got busy, applying pressure to push the instrument into the bone.  He leaned over Will's hip and leveraged his body weight against Will's thick, weigh lifter hip bone.  As he drilled, I noticed a soft scratching sound like a saw being pulled back and forth through a log.  I turned my head to the side, thinking it was coming from the TV in neighboring room.  I suddenly realized it was the sound of the metal rod boaring into Willie's hip and I shuddered. 
I looked to Willie to see if he was hearing anything, but he was doing great.  He has developed a deep breathing method that has worked him through the previous biopsies.  He takes a deep breath in then lets it out with a low hum noise that drowns out any other sound in the room.  It helps him keep himself distracted from the action in the room, but today it was also helpful to keep me from hearing the drilling sounds. 
Carl stopped drilling and removed the top of the instrument.  He attached a syringe and pulled up on the hollow core of the drilling device.  Red liquid shot up into the tube and Carl, me, and the lab tech in the room all cheered in unison.
Success!
It was 5 minutes into the procedure and Carl had just done what it took the past doctor 50 minutes to do!  He gave the blood to the lab tech who immediately started inspecting it and placing it on slides.
"This looks perfect!" she said, looking at Carl.  "Has he already had Chemo?" she looked a bit confused.
We assured that he had finished a round already and she looked relieved.  She explained that there are certain qualities in the blood that can be seen by the naked eye when cancer is present in the bone marrow.  She saw nothing in the blood today.  They refer to it as an "empty sample" in which there is no good or bad cells present in the marrow.  That is what is supposed to happen after someone receives chemotherapy.  If the chemo is effective, there is nothing good or bad to be seen because everything has been wiped out. This bone marrow biopsy was to confirm that the chemo has wiped out everything.  In a sort of ironic way, the point of this biopsy is to see nothing.
Nothing means everything to us today.
As Willie's body continues to heal and he completes all his treatments he will receive another biopsy to see if his good cells have returned and the cancer cells have not.  That is when they can declare remission.  Today they are just making sure everything is gone: good and bad. 
Carl removed the first instrument and traded if for a larger, far more intimidating version.  Will's platelet count was 14 today which means he is lacking in the ability to clot blood.  Because of this he was bleeding a lot more than he has in the past.  This didn't slow down Carl at all.  He quickly mopped up the blood, then continued to drill as drops of blood fell from his gloves, a remnant of his quick clean up job. He drilled the larger piece back in the same hole and began applying pressure again.  This was a bit more difficult and he broke out into a sweat. 
"I can see why Quan had such a hard time!" he said, referring to the tiny Asian woman who was unable to do Willie's last biopsy.
We all laughed at that.  Carl gave the piece one more twist then rocked it back and forth in order to chip out a section of bone.  I imagine it looks likes trying to pull a metal fence post out of a block of cement.  If you push it back and forth long enough, the concrete will eventually crack and let it go.  Apparently Will's hips are just one step away from concrete, but Carl was able to slowly rock the piece until it chipped away and he pulled out a perfect sample of bone.
"Are you a weight lifter?" he said as he inspected the piece of bone he had removed.
Will told him about his weight lifting records and he nodded, clearly impressed. 
"Yep," he said "I could tell you lift weights by the density of your bones.  I've only seen bones like that on one other guy who was a weight lifter and I wasn't able to finish the biopsy on him."
We asked if that guys hips were just too thick to get through, but he said it was that the guy simply had too much anxiety and made him stop the procedure.  They ended up sending him to the operating room to have him knocked out to perform the biopsy.  Carl congratulated Willie on being able to handle the biopsy with hip bones as thick as his are.  We congratulated Carl for being able to drill through them!
It was 2:25PM and he was done with the procedure.  We were in awe.  He cleaned up so quickly that it was hard to believe there was ever any mess.  He had Willie bandaged up and was back in his lab coat before Willie even finished letting out his final humming breaths.
Will actually looked shocked when he informed him it was over and asked him to turn on his back to apply pressure to the site.  He turned over, then thanked Carl, declaring him the best ever.
Carl nodded and modestly accepted our praise, then left.
Silence filled the air as we processed the tornado of activity that had just whipped through our room. 

Relaxing after the biopsy and playing baseball

"Carl really is the best!" Willie said, breaking the silence.
We talked about the way he did it and what things we liked then agreed that we will gladly drive 3 hours to have him do the biopsy again if that is the case.  When you've found the best, you can't settle for anything less.
As if on cue with our lifted moods, the skies cleared and the rain stopped coming down.  Sunlight poured in our window and we relaxed in the afternoon glow.  The Ellen DeGeneres show came on and we watched a married couple perform a dance routine while wearing roller skates.
"Why don't we learn to do something amazing like that together?" I asked Willie
"We're beating cancer together baby," he said "that's pretty amazing."
He's the one that's amazing. 
I am lucky to call him mine!

Silly Saturday

Lights out at Stanford

Today has been funny.  We reached our cancer beating quota of 4 laughs per day by 9 AM this morning.  It all started at 4:30 AM when the nurse came in and announced that the power would be turned off soon for some scheduled construction and started moving everything from the regular outlets to the red outlets which run on generator power.  She did this with such noise and movement that we were wide awake afterward.  I was lying in bed, trying not to laugh as I observed her leaning over the bed, then trying to go under it, then finally going around it to reach the outlet. 
"Baby, get up!" Willie shouted, after the nurse finally left the room.
I shot out of bed, my heart racing.  This is the time of night that he usually got nauseous when receiving chemo and he's had a few nights since where I've been summoned out of bed to get him a cracker or toast.  I was at his bedside in no time, ready to see what he needed, but instead he was laying there smiling.
"Are you nauseous?" I asked?
"No," he said "I just wanted to see if you were awake!"
Haha!  Clearly our day was off to a silly start.  
The power went off about 8AM and it sent the hospital into mild chaos.  The generator doesn't provide a lot of power, (and how could it for a hospital this size!?) so the power that is available is routed to the most important things.  That left us with the computer, one set of lights and his IV pole in our room.  The rest of the floor wasn't as fortunate as us.  When I walked down the hall to use the bathroom it was like an eery scene from a post Apocalypse movie.  The hallway was dark with only a few overhead lights, a lantern flickered as it hung from the hand of a nurse who was doing her morning rounds.  The silence  was unsettling.  We have become accustomed to constant overhead pages and the never ending high pitched beep that happens whenever a patient calls the nurse.  Everything about the silence felt wrong.  My footsteps were the only sound that filled the empty halls and I realized as I neared the bathroom that I was going to be in complete darkness once I was inside. 
How bad did I really have to go?  I wondered.
To some it may not be a big deal to use the bathroom in utter darkness, but I carry a stupid fear of dark bathrooms ever since the "Bloody Mary" incident in elementary school.  It was somewhere around the 2nd or 3rd grade and all the kids were playing a game in the bathroom where they would turn off the lights and say "Bloody Mary" three times in a row.  A few kids would disappear into the bathroom then a moments later there would be screams and a quick exodus from the dark room.  One of my friends was brave enough to go in there and reported seeing spiders crawling down her face that weren't really there when she left the bathroom.
Real or not, I don't care.  Those types of stories always leave me feeling dark and I would rather stay away from that kind of energy.  Unfortunately, that is the kind of energy I now associate with dark bathrooms.
The door to the bathroom was propped open and I must have looked ridiculous, standing there in front of it, not sure if I was going in or not.  Just then, a police officer showed up.  He was totally out of place for the hospital setting, but fit perfectly into my post-Apocalypse theme.  He was holding a glow stick identical to the type that kids carry around at Halloween. 
"Hooray!" I said to him "I was just wondering how I was going to get around in there!"
He nodded his head, but didn't look up at me.  Instead he fiddled with his belt and came up with two pieces of duct tape that he secured the glow stick to the wall with.  I thanked him and he nodded his head, while still looking at the floor and left without ever really acknowledging me.
"Was he real?" I asked myself and looked down the hallway to see if he was walking away, but he had disappeared.  I looked back over at the glow stick taped to the wall and shrugged to myself.  This was a strange morning indeed.

Glow stick taped to the bathroom wall

The glow stick actually provided a fair amount of light to the tiny bathroom.  It reminded me of a story I once heard on faith.  The story was told of a group of teenagers who went exploring in a cave.  They took a wrong turn and ended up lost and alone in the dark.  They were scared and didn't how they were going to get out.  One of the boys then remembered that he had a small pen light on the key chain in his pocket.  That small light was enough to lead them out of the cave to safety.  The story illustrates the simple truth that there can be no darkness where there is light, just as there can be no fear where there is faith. 
I remember hearing this as a teenager and being completely confused.  There was still darkness in that cave, I remember thinking to myself, the small light didn't take away all of the darkness!  I wasn't prepared at that point in my life to fully understand what I know to be true now. When even the smallest light illuminates the darkness the darkness no longer exists. 
When we entered this journey just over two weeks ago, I'm not sure if we even had a glow stick of faith with us.  There was so much fear and uncertainty that we allowed that to fill our hearts for a brief moment.  But it was only a moment.  We have felt the prayers and faith of all of our wonderful friends, family and loved ones and have seen miracles unfold in front of our eyes.  Our glow sticks of faith have grown brighter and changed into full blown lights.
Indeed, there can be no darkness where there is light IF you focus on the light.  That is the piece I didn't understand as a teenager that I fully comprehend now.  There may be no "cure" for cancer, but there is hope for a cure and a strong belief that there is bright future ahead of us.  This is the light we are focusing on.  There is no darkness with that light!
This morning we had, yet another, new attending physician. He is middle aged with a crop of dark hair that is carefully parted and combed to the side.  He wears glasses that add to the stern look he carried on his face as he entered the room.  I felt like I had seen this man before and quickly realized that he looks like the stereotypical "mean doctor" on the hospital tv shows. 
"I'm Dr. Couture," he said, then shook our hands without even smiling.
The resident checked Willie over and asked if anything had changed.  He is feeling much better today we filled the doctors in on his hard day yesterday compared to today.
"Great," the attending physician said, with a bit of enthusiasm that relaxed his stern appearance "then today will be more of the same, just waiting things out."
We were confused for a moment since we were told that he would probably need platelets today by our last team of Dr.s.  We asked him about the labs which he had no idea about.  This is funny, considering his IS the attending physician for our case. 
The female resident smiled and pulled a stack of papers from her pocket.  She is of middle eastern decent with a startling white smile that catches you off guard.  She read from the labs which showed his platelet count has dropped to 8 and his red blood cells (or hgb) are at 6.6. 
"Well I guess he will need infusions!" the physician said and laughed at himself "We will need to do a unit of platelets and two units of blood."
Will has never had platelets before so he warned us that they pose a bigger risk of a reaction than a blood cell transfusion, but assured us that the nurses would give him benadryl beforehand to reduce reactions. 
The team was about to leave the room when the resident turned to Will,
"Can you settle a debate for us?" she asked him "We can't remember how much you can lift."
"My personal record is 545 lbs." Will said and she broke into a dazzling smile.


One unit of platelets

"I thought so!" she said, looking at another resident across the room "I told you so!"
They asked a few more questions about his weight lifting awards and hovered around him like he was royalty.  I wouldn't have been surprised if they asked for an autograph or a picture! 
When they left to room we burst out laughing.  I imagined that there was an exchange of bet money in the hallway as the resident reminded everyone she was right!
Will's platelets arrived around 11AM.  They are a nasty yellow color and looked anything but healthy as they dripped into his picc line.  He was given tylenol and benadryl and the infusion began.  Platelets are infused quickly and it took less than 30 minutes for the bag to empty.  It was over before he even knew it started with no reaction to report.
Easy breezy!
The nurse changed out the platelets for a unit of blood and we were back into comfortably territory again.  This is the 4th time he's received blood and it has become old news for us.  It was now lunch time and Will was craving Round Table pizza.  He is currently on strike from the kitchen because of their terrible service the past couple of nights.  A few nights ago his dinner arrived almost an hour and a half late and when it did get here, it was missing an entree!  We could have forgiven that incident if we didn't keep having problems like this night after night.  His solution is to eat elsewhere and today he wanted pizza.


$22 pizza smile

I called Round Table and asked if they could deliver to the hospital.  I thought it was a lofty request, but they had no problem with it.  I met the delivery driver outside the hospital, next to the fountain.  He was driving a white, unmarked truck and we had a suspicious exchange of money for pizza.  I laughed to myself as I carried the pizza back through the building as I imagined how that must have looked.
The pizza was $22 which we felt was a very steep price for a small pepperoni pizza.  I reviewed the receipt when we got back to the room and discovered they had included a delivery charge and we had paid them for delivery as well. We paid almost as much for the delivery as we did for the pizza!
I don't think I've ever seen Willie so happy to eat pizza.  I would have paid $122 for the amount of happiness that pizza brought him. He sat in bed and enjoyed every bite.
 As he ate, a man from the art department came in to ask us if we would be interested in doing some art.  Since Will was getting a blood transfusion at the time we asked him to come back another day.  He stayed for a while and talked sports with Willie, but I wasn't listening.
I was paying careful attention to a small patch of raised red skin I had noticed on Will's neck.  As he talked the patch grew and I was shocked to see it spread in front of my eyes.  It came up from his chest and covered his entire neck in a red hue.  The artist left and I quickly began checking Will's skin.  The rash was everywhere!  It had gone down the side of his arm and covered one side of his stomach.  We paged the nurse who stopped the infusion and called the doctor.
There was no huge concern because he was still breathing easily and wasn't having any pain or itchiness from the rash.  It just was weird!  The female resident came to inspect the rash and said she thought it had come from the blood and not the platelets.  We thought that was weird since he has gotten blood plenty of times before without incident.  She explained that every unit of blood is different and some can cause reactions.
"We'll just give him some IV benadryl and he can finish that unit of blood." She said.
HOLD ON A SECOND!  She wanted him to FINISH that possibly TAINTED unit of blood?  We questioned her about this and she assured us the blood was fine and it was just Will reacting and the benadryl would fix it.  Neither of us bought in to that so when she left we asked his nurse if he had to finish that unit.


The biohazard bag of ridiculous porportions

"Oh heaven's no," she said "I already called the blood bank and they asked us to send it back so they can test it."
We breathed a sigh of relief. 
Everything got chaotic after that.  We had 3 different nurses coming in and out asking about the reaction.  One took blood that had to be sent to the blood bank, another typed things into the computer.  They poked and proded at Willie and took his blood pressure and temperature several times.  Finally, our nurse returned with a GIANT red bag that had "bio hazard" written all over it.  She unfolded the bag and we all laughed as it ended up being the size of a body bag.
"Were they wanting you to put Willie in that?" I joked.
"Sir, we're going to need you to get in this bag so we can take you to the lab for testing," she joked back as she held the opening out toward him.  She then took the tiny unit of blood and placed it in the bottom of the ridiculously large bag.
About 15 minutes had passed since the blood transfusion had been stopped and the rash was already starting to disappear.  It must have been caused by the blood after all!  They brought in some IV Benadrly just to be safe and the rest of the rash disappeared within seconds of him receiving the shot.  It was amazing!
The Benadryl not only took away the rash, but put him into a sleepy daze and he has been dozing for the past few hours.  The power is still off and the Giants are playing right now.  Earlier in the day we joked with the nurses about Will not being able to watch his game because of the power being off and said we were just going to go over and watch the game in person if we couldn't watch it on TV.  Maybe the rash was our punishment for joking about not having power because now he's sleeping through the game!
I hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend.  We have been getting pictures texted to us all day from our family and friends who are participating in the Relay For Life walk to support the fight against cancer.  We are so proud of Will's dad who is a cancer survivor and did the survivor's walk today.  There is so much hope for a cure and it is carried in the faces and personal stories of each indiviual who beats this disease.  There may be no "cure" for cancer, but cancer certainly cures relationships and brings people together to fight it. 
In the end, maybe we are all the cure.  Together we can beat cancer!

Feverish Friday

So dangerous, yet so beautiful!

 The dreaded fever arrived today.  We awoke at 5 AM when the nurse came in to draw blood and take Will's vitals.  He was running a tiny temperate of 100.5 degrees.  There are thresholds for everything here and the threshold for doing something about a fever is 100.5 degrees.  Since he was sitting right on the line, the nurse wasn't sure if she should medicate or not.  She decided to take his temperature again and this time she inserted the thermometer deeper into Will's mouth, just to be sure the reading was accurate.
It was kind of funny to watch.  The thermometer is usually inserted just below the tongue and most of the metal rod is out of the mouth.  The second time she took his temp, the entire rod disappeared into Will's mouth.  He said it was like she was trying to have him swallow the entire thing.  She stood there, holding the rod in his mouth while he looked like he was about to gag.  The result from the second time was the same: 100.5 degrees.
She decided it would be best to follow the protocol for fevers and had him on an antibiotic IV drip in no time.  It was 6:30 at this point and we were both wide awake.  I decided to walk over to the gym to shower.  The walk was lovely this morning and the air was crisp and refreshing.  There is a large park with walking trials that spans between the hospital and the gym.  This morning I stopped to observe the cactus garden that spans an impressive distance of the park.  I've never seen so many prickly plants in lone location. I was excited to see it again on my walk home, but somehow ended up taking a wrong turn and ended up lost on campus.  Thanks to google maps I found my way back to the hospital.  I don't know how I ever lived without an iphone!

The original PICC line dressing with nasty bruise

Today marks two weeks we have been at Stanford.  Hospital time is a funny thing.  Sometimes it feels like we just got here, and other times it feels like we've been here forever.  There is really nothing to gauge your time by when you're in the hospital.  In regular life we would pass the week away with work and scheduled weekly activities like going to the gym, events with friends, family dinners, and watching our favorite shows.  We both have businesses that keep us busy all day (and night!) and there is rarely a time where we simply sit and do nothing.  Which is exactly what we've been doing here!  I'm still adjusting to not having to plan meals or set aside time to cook.  Cooking is one of my passions so I am eagerly anticipating the return to our kitchen! 
I'm finding myself forgetting what day of the week it is, and not really even caring.  In the hospital it doesn't make any difference whether it's Monday or Wednesday, the schedule will still be the same.  We are now counting our time here by the number of bandage changes Will receives on his PICC line.  He had the PICC line inserted two weeks ago by the cute Korean woman who we still talk about.  She placed a dressing over the line at that time and we thought it would be on there forever.  Last week the nurse advised us that he needs to have this dressing changed weekly so she changed it out and wrote the date on the bandage.  That date expired today so he had his second changing this afternoon.
Two picc line dressing changes=two weeks since we've been here.

New dressing with today's date and fancy signature!

We hope we are not here more than three picc line dressing changes!
Willie had a hard day today.  He was wiped out after the IV Antibiotic and took a few cap naps before the team showed up for morning rounds about 10 AM.  We learned today that the team is changing AGAIN and we are getting yet another attending physician.  We were also sad to learn that Dr. Mitra, who has been with us from the beginning, will be rotating out of the unit.  He was a fabulous doctor and we're sad to see him go.  We do get to keep Noura, who is the dark haired resident with the good sense of humor.  She has been the one checking in with us each morning before the team arrives and we really like her.  She takes her time to explain things to us and answer our questions without making us feel like she has somewhere else she would rather be.  This morning she spent some time going over Will's labs with us.  His red count has dropped again after the infusion and is back down to 7.6.  He will probably need another infusion this weekend, but the real concern is his platelet count which has fallen to 14.  It was in the 150's a few days ago and has been cutting in half each day.  The threshold for infusing platelets is 10 so he will most likely get a platelet infusion tomorrow. 
The body needs platelets in order to clot and keep from bleeding.  One of the risks of low platelet counts after chemo is a bloody nose that can't be stopped.  This is the main thing they are concerned about and she assured us that if that does happen, they can administer platelets immediately to stop the problem.  Other than that, she said we are going to keep doing as we're doing and hang out.  
We're really getting really good at hanging out!  In fact, if there was an award for hanging out, I think Willie would have it!
He had no energy today and spent the most day resting.  We had been warned about these kinds of days from Dr. Mitra.  He said these days were going to happen and Will wouldn't feel like getting out of bed.  He was right.  I don't think anything could have talked him out of that bed.
My brother was in town for business and came to visit in the afternoon.  He brought Willie a Giants Jersey, and some other Giants souvenirs.  That brightened our day!  We had a nice visit with him and were happy to have him here, even though it was only for a few short hours.
Tammy called in the afternoon to report that the community is providing an overwhelming amount of support.  Our good friend from the gym put together a fund raiser/raffle for some gym passes and that has turned into people donating all sorts of other things to raffle.  Tammy named off about 10 things that people have donated and said she has received phone calls for plenty more.  They will have the raffle baskets down at our shop, Health Habit, if anyone wants to get a raffle ticket stop by and get in on the fun!  I'm kind of sad we're missing all this.  I LOVE raffles! 
We couldn't believe the amount of quality things people have donated to our cause.  Tammy's good friend purchased wrist bands that say "Strength for Willie" on them and they are being sold at the shop for $5.  We will also be selling "Strength for Willie" shirts at the shop next week.  Another friend is selling orange lanyards that say "find the cure". 
We are so humbled by the support we are receiving.  It inspires us to be better people and to get Willie back to health real soon so we can thank you all in person.  This weekend is the Relay For Life which is an event that is done each year to celebrate cancer survivors and earn money for the cause.  We hope everyone has a wonderful time and are looking forward to being there next year to celebrate Willie's remission! 
Happy Friday to all!  And may the Giants win tonight!


No News

No news tonight.  Will's blood counts are still holding strong and reds blood cells are much better after the transfusion yesterday.  Tonight I'm busy doing this:

See you tomorrow!

The Lazy Vampire

Willie receiving a red blood cell infusion.

Will's white count held strong through the night, but his red cells didn't do the same.  There is a threshold at which they will transfuse red blood cells and that is when the count drops below 7.  Yesterday he was dancing on the edge of the threshold with a count of 7.1.  Today his count was 6.7.  The team informed us that he would be receiving two units of red blood cells when they did their morning rounds.  We picked up two new people today who I could have sworn were only here to see the weight lifter that everyone has been talking about. 
Each morning exams starts off the same.  Dr. Mitra enters the room, nods his hellos then turns to Willie and says
"Is there something you want to tell us?"
He says it in an unassuming tone, but the first time I heard it I thought he was there to accuse us of doing something awful.  Like he had done some research in the night and discovered some deep dark secrets about us that even we weren't aware of.  I felt the need to confess everything to him, including the fact that I had been ordering salads on Will's meal trays and pretending they were for him!  There was a long silence that followed his first questioning as I contemplated whether there was any way that he actually knew about my salad lies.  Finally, Willie shook his head and said
"No, nothing's really happened."
This evoked a broad smile from the doctor and he patted Willie on the shoulder and said that was great!
We are now accustomed to his style of questioning and Willie has yet to provide any confession to his request for info.  It's not that he's holding out, there is simply nothing to report.  I imagine he gets all sorts of crazy reports from other patients he asks this question to, perhaps hearing things about nausea, fevers, dizziness etc., but not from Willie!
Today when he asked, it was more of a formality rather than an actual request for an answer.  Willie supplied his usual answer in telling him things were fine.  Willie was sitting at the side of the bed and he began his usual morning check starting with a look at his teeth, checking his heart and lungs and ending by tapping all over his body and asking if he feels any pain. 
The drab attending physician was looking a bit more chipper today and was extra interested in Will's physical exam.  The previous two days he's been in here, Will has been laying in bed, so today, with him sitting up he got his first glimpse of his stature.  He stood behind Will as Dr. Mitra listened to his heart from the front.  I watched his eyes move around the perimeter of Will's impressive biceps, then as the Dr. moved the stethoscope to his back to listen, he reached out and lifted up Will's shirt to assist.  His eyes widened ever so slightly then he turned to one of the doctors and mouthed
"He's STRONG!"
I wanted to laugh out loud at the impressed look that wouldn't leave his face.
Dr. Mitra finished his exam then reminded us that we are still waiting for his counts to bottom out before they eventually begin to climb. 
"Let's be real," I said, after he finished his daily reminder "Willie is doing Awesome, isn't he?"
There was laughter from the doctors then they all nodded and began talking at once about how he is the easiest case they've ever had and the strongest they've seen yet.  The only reaction I was interested in was that of our attending physician who I just accused yesterday of having no emotion.  I caught his eye after I said that and he nodded in affirmation.  He has ears that stick out from his head that have an endearing mouse quality to them and they shook their agreements along with him.  He then winked at me and mouthed
"AWESOME!"
It was the greatest exchange of all time.  He has now won a place in my heart.  And, I feel good having fulfilled my goal to evoke any kind of emotion from him.  The man is impressed by muscles.  Who can blame him?
The transfusion was supposed to start in the morning, but the blood bank was running behind.  Will and I had planned a date to attend the free concerts that are offered every Wednesday and Friday at 12:30 PM so they agreed to hold off on the blood until after our hospital music date.  And what a great date it was.
Today the music was from a group called Bella Trio which consisted of a Violin, Cello and Piano.  The sound was simply amazing.  I grew up in a household where my Mom and Sister both play the violin so I have come to appreciate what good string instruments sound like.  These string players are obviously dedicated to their craft and they drew their bows back and forth across the strings as smoothly as though they were moving through water.  It was a pleasure just to watch them perform!  At one point, the pianist read a french poem about heaven.  The poem spoke of the divinity within all of us and how at some point in everyone's life, that divinity is called home to join the highest source of light.  She got choked up as she read it and I couldn't help but wonder who she has lost to that divine light.  The music moved me to tears.  It was a slowly, dreary song in the beginning that soon became lighter and seemed so ascend into the sky as it went.  I looked around the room at all the other patients in filter masks like Willie's who were attached to IV poles and heart monitors.  I wondered how many of them will be called home to that divine light soon. 


We even got a free CD at the concert!

I don't know how anyone can endure a trial like this without faith.  Our faith has sustained us through this journey and we know with full confidence that we are being take care of by a source far powerful than any of us.  That faith gives us hope which is the most powerful tool we have right now!
After our concert date we came back to our room for a lovely lunch then Willie got hooked up for his first infusion.  It takes about 2 hours to infuse each pint of blood so we settled in for the afternoon.  Will kicked back in bed and let the red blood cells do their thing.  The nurse and I joked about how that was a vampire's dream and then came up with the term "lazy vampire" to describe him. 
The first infusion went off without a hitch.  The second was not so easy.  The machine backed up about halfway through and started beeping its angry warning bell.  The nurse came to check it and tried everything to get it running again.  Nothing was working so she tried to clear the picc line when she discovered it was clotted.  This is an easy fix in which some blood thinning medication is inserted in the line then left for 30 minutes to 2 hours before it is pulled out along with the clots. She did this, and about 45 minutes later his line was clot free and the infusion continued.  He finished his last bag just in time for the Giants game!  Good thing we had our date earlier, because now it's just Willie and his Giants for the rest of the night!