A Potentially Big Day

This afternoon, around 2:30, we’re having a followup appointment with Dr. Ciurea, my bone marrow transplant doctor. It is likely that we’ll learn if my siblings, or parents, are a match for a transplant that has recently become inevitable. I’ll see Dr. Cortes, my oncologist, around noon. As far as the trajectory of my treatment is concerned, it’s potentially a big day.

Imagine a time when you’ve lost your wallet. You search the areas that you’d normally put it, with no luck. You check the jeans that you last wore, to no avail. You graduate to your jacket. It’s not there. You quickly realize that you are running out of options and the chances of you finding your wallet is getting smaller and smaller each time another location produces no results. Finally, having searched high and low, you realize that the only place that it could possibly be is in your car. On the way out to your vehicle, you think of all of the things that could have occurred to your wallet. You could have left it somewhere, it could have gotten stolen, or maybe it’s in the middle of some barren parking lot, waiting for you to pick it up. There’s a nervous anticipation.

That’s kind of where we are at the moment, except that finding my wallet would mean a life free of leukemia. Six years of turbulence has lead to a figurative trip to the car, and there are only a couple of more places to look. With a t315i mutation, and a bad experience with a trial drug to combat it, I’m kind of in the middle of first and second base, with the ball in the infield. I’m sort of in a little pickle.

If you see this before my appointment, I ask that you pray for the hearts of my family. Although I believe in the sovereignty of a loving God, we’re human and the weight of anticipation has been carried by an intense sense of optimism. Although the percentages may be low, both of my siblings have long desired to be blessed with an ability to save my life. To learn that there’s nothing that they can physically do would likely be heartbreaking.

As for me, I hope for the best and trust in the sovereignty of a loving God. If neither my siblings or parents are viable candidates, there are 42 others in the bone marrow registry that match at least 3 of the 10 markers they look at to consider whether one is a perfect match. More testing would have to be done to see if any of them are close enough for a transplant, but 42 is better than 0. It’s one day at a time from here on out.

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” – Romans 12:12