I’m hearing that there is some confusion regarding the transplant process. Let me clear the air.I am currently receiving chemotherapy. This is not because I currently have cancer. I am in remission. Being in remission prior to transplant presents the most optimal state to achieve a cure.
The chemotherapy is being used solely to give my malfunctioning immune system a beat down. My immune system is misbehaving, and it needs to be punished. It needs to be removed and replaced with a healthy donor system that does not possess the glitch that causes my cells to proliferate and create tumors.
You can compare the process to having a problem with your computer. Let’s say your old software (immune system) has a virus that is causing the hard drive to malfunction (causing cancer). You take the computer to be fixed. The hard drive needs to be wiped out, thereby removing the problem virus, and new software needs to be installed to keep the machine running smoothly.
Is this too much of a geeky explanation? Because the chemotherapy is starting to get to my head and I’m feeling a little foggy.
Either way, the process is going according to plan. I was admitted on Friday Oct. 3 to have a Hickman line placed. This line is implanted in my chest and goes directly to my heart. The chemo is infused through lumens (chords) outside my body, like a gigantic IV in my chest.
On Sat. I began a regime of Fludarabine and busulfan (chemo) by infusion. I was also supplemented with potassium and magnesium to keep my electrolytes stable. I received aloxi to prevent nausea.
The goal of the chemotherapy is to gently remove my existing immune system without causing dangerous toxic side effects. The chemotherapy kills rapidly dividing cells. This is what causes hair loss, mouth sores, etc.
This is also how my cancer will be killed, and without the existence of obvious cancer in my system, it is more likely the chemo will kill each and every malfunctioning cell that is causing my cancer to return. All it really takes to cause cancer is one renegade cell reeking havoc.
I believe Dr. Farber, as in Dana Farber, the hospital where I’m being treated, devised this theory and the subsequent basis for my treatments.
This is where I am at today in my process. I have, about seven days left with my hair. In response, I’ll be giving up shampoo and combs. I’ve never been a huge fan of hair. I’m a fan of electrolysis. I’m a fan of hats and scarves.
I’ll receive chemotherapy until Oct. 7 (a total of 4 days), on the 8th I will have a day of “rest,” and on the 9th the stem cells from my donor will be infused. This is referred to as Day 0.
I am having a “nonmyeloablative transplant” or “mini transplant,” meaning some of my immune system will remain intact.
After the donor’s cells are infused the process of integrating the new system into my body begins. Here is the part that confuses and scares me.
I will experience some level of graft vs. host disease. GVHD is the donor’s immune system taking over my own and not recognizing my body. The donor’s immune system will try to attack my organs, and I will receive medications to prevent this from happening. The stem cells will take over mine slowly, and begin to recognize that my organs are not the enemy. They will begin to recognize my body as its own.
The process sounds a little bit like an art and a little bit like science. I’ll be receiving a study drug called velcade to help facilitate the process. I will also be receiving methotrexate.
Life is a fragile state. I’m going to test just how fragile it is.
This is how I understand the process. I hope I’ve explained it in understandable terms. If I have not, contact me. I want everybody to understand the truth of what happens.
What do you call a person who has a compulsion to get lymphoma over and over again?
A lymphomaniac!
(and you thought I was going to say me) For more cancer jokes, check out cancerisland.com
2 comments:
wow...excellent explanation...I wish you continued optimism in this chapter of your life. My neighbor has just completed her chemo and I am always amazed at her spirits too. She has kept me going through my minor "illnesses". Thanks for sharing this and for being so strong. Your very inspirational!
Dorothy
Hillary,
I know you through Frank and his ongoing posts about your progress.
Please keep your optimistic spirit. I really think it is the most important part of the battle.
When I took my mother to her chemo sessions (to an outpatient clinic every afternoon for six weeks), the thing that struck me the most was that I never saw a sad face. Those people were determined to beat their disease, and their optimism was contagious.
My mother was not given any hope. She was 82 years old and battling lung cancer. She was a heavy smoker. In fact, as a child, I thought she was so elegant because she always used a long cigarette holder. She did not want to get her fingers yellowed with nicotine. She always had beautiful hands...still does...and she has always been very vain about her looks.
Every time we asked her when she had started smoking, we got a different answer...16...14. I believe the only time she was truthful was when she told her doctor that she thought she might have been 12.
So, people may have thought, "Well,
you smoked all your life! What did you expect?" But to be honest, I know lung cancer threw her for a complete loop.
The bottom line is this...she prevailed. She was strong and committed to her complete recovery, and now nearly three years later, she is still going strong.
You are a strong, young woman, Hillary. Continue to have complete trust in your total recovery.
And thank you for the blog. You keep reminding me of how wonderful life is . I especially am going to adopt your "courageous joy" attitude.
Keep on keeping on, as we say here in the South.
Carol
Savannah, Georgia
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