Hi everyone!

I have to start by telling you about the surprise send-off we received last Friday at 7:00 am as we headed out to start this phase of my treatment. As we turned onto our driveway from the back of our house where we park, we found eighteen car and truckloads of people lined up along our road with their emergency flashers on, and as we got closer we could see that they were all people from our church: honking, waving, shouting, and holding up signs of love and encouragement. IT WAS AMAZING! I almost had to take over driving because René was crying such tears of gratitiude. To all of you who got up way too early to send us off, or who have sent us texts, notes, cards, tributes, and gifts to encourage us, THANK YOU SO MUCH! We are so blessed by your support and expressions of love!

We had to be at the cancer center by 10 am to have labs drawn, labs drawn, and meet with the  transplant doctor for education and to sign consent forms, get me hydrated intravenously with some pre-meds, and start cryotherapy, which is my new favorite word for eating ice cream, sherbert, Italian ices, popsicles, and other cold things to prevent the chemo from causing sores in my mouth. (I plan to continue cryotherapy at home because, well, you can never be too careful!) When I was ready, they started my infusion with Melphalan, the chemo drug that is killing my bone marrow even as I write this. I don't remember much of what happened after that, since the additional meds they gave me pretty well knocked me out.

The infusions count down to the day of the stem cell transplant, so that was Day -3. On Saturday, Day -2, I had my second round of labs, education, premedication, cryotherapy, melphalan, and chemically induced relaxation, which was helpful as I began to really feel the side effects of the chemo. Sunday was Day -1, and a rest day, though we did have to go to the hospital so that I they could make sure I was tolerating the chemo well and in good shape for the transplant. 

Which brings us to today: Day Zero! René and I were back at the cancer center before 7 am, checked into my room, had labs drawn, and after a few hours of intravenous medication, I was ready! There was quite a crowd in my room, as I was attended by four nurses throughout the procedure, two monitoring the infusions and two warming up my stem cells, which were frozen in liquid nitrogen and had to be very quickly and carefully thawed in a warm water bath, all under the supervison of the tranplant doctor.

Interestingly enough, as they infused my with the six bags of stem cells, you could see the clusters of stem cells in the plasma as it flowed through the tubes into my chest. In addition, René and the nurses could soon smell the unmistakable odor of creamed corn, which the chemical that preserves the frozen stem cells emits through the patient when the cells are thawed. Since this scent will be with me for a few days, I may consider dabbing myself with barbecue sauce for the full meal experience. 

We're told that the next few days will be especially critical, as the melphalan continues to try to killl me  while the new stem cells rush to the rescue, finding homes in my marrow and starting to produce new blood.  René is my 24/7 caregiver and we will be making daily trips to the hospital to monitor my situation,  apart from which we will be in strict isolation--but not out of touch! Know that we will be thinking and praying for all of you, even as we are blessed by your prayers. The Good Lord be with you, dear friends!