Hey fam,

Well. It’s been quite the wild ride. Now that I’m home and very, very slowly getting back on my feet, I figure it’s finally time to write an update and a recap of what exactly happened to me in the hospital. 

First, I need to thank my good friend Hannah for keeping everyone updated throughout my hospitalization. It was a hairy time, and I’m so grateful for her efforts in checking in with my family and hospital staff in order to relay my status with everyone. As always, I couldn’t do this without you, Hannah, or any of my stalwart friends and family.

So here’s where I’m at: I was discharged on Halloween after about four weeks in the hospital. I spent five days of that time in the ICU due to a mystery infection that started in my bowels and spread to my lungs following five days of high-dose chemotherapy.  

My doctors still aren’t sure exactly what hit me, but they think it was most likely something called typhlitis, aka neutropenic enterocolitis. This is a bacterial infection of the intestines that’s mysteriously particular to people with weakened immune systems. Since chemotherapy can’t differentiate between cancer cells and healthy white blood cells when killing things, my immune system was destroyed and I became a prime target.

The first signs of real trouble showed up after I took a shower a few nights after my stem cell were given back to me (that process, by the way, was totally uneventful). I came out of the shower shivering; later that night I started throwing up non-stop, and the next morning I woke up shaking. A few hours later I was literally gasping for air — it felt like my lungs had shrunk by two-thirds. I’ll tell you this: It’s the scariest thing in the world to not be able to breath. 

The rapid response team, which is sorta like a mobile emergency department, came in and did a quick exam; the doctor told me she was “very worried” –which always makes you feel great– and recommend they move me to the ICU. My doctor said they would probably have to intubate me there, for which I felt excited, not being able to breath and all. 

The rest is kind of a blur. I remember getting a CT scan where they confirmed some kind of intestinal infection. I remember waking up with my brother sitting in a chair next to my hospital bed in the ICU and I remember telling him I felt like I was dying, My mom later told me that really shook him. 

Lastly, I remember being anesthetized, presumably to be intubated — only I don’t think anyone told me what was exactly happening at the time; as I began fading into oblivion, I literally thought I was dying.  I was angry I hadn’t left all my money and inheritance to my brother and his new family (some of my assets are slated to go to the Leukemia and Lymphoma society and a documentary fund at UC Berkeley). I vaguely remember saying “I’m dying” to a doctor, and the doctor reassuring me that I really wasn’t. 

Then, with my eyes closed, in total darkness, I saw an explosion; a mass of colored particles bursting through a void.  It was the big bang, the beginning of the universe. And right as all of Creation was about to reveal all of its secrets to me –is there a God? Is there a multiverse? What is dark matter anyway? Why do we park in a driveway and drive on a parkway?– the message was cut short. And I remember feeling super frustrated that I was going to die without learning anything.

Miraculously, I woke up. My mom was by my side, and a machine was attached to me, whirring away, processing a tube full of my blood. I tried to speak but my mom told me just to relax; I had a tube down my throat. A white haired doctor eventually came in and told me I’d gone septic, which is an intense, potentially lethal mega-inflammatory response to an infection that I’ve since read we don’t really understand and has a mortality rate as high as fifty percent (eep!). The doctor told me my kidneys had shut down because of it and that I was on dialysis now. But he said he felt confident that my kidneys would come back online in the next few days or weeks.

After a few more days of observation and intense antibiotics in the ICU, the doctors decided to remove my breathing tube, and ship me back up the transplant unit.

It was only after my ICU stay that my attending, Dr. Cerejo, confirmed I’d also had a bad case of pneumonia. He showed me the CT scans, my lungs visibly filled with fluid. I told him I was ready to get out of the hospital ASAP. “Of course you are,” he said. “You just escaped death.”

So here I am, day +36 after my transplant, 18 days out of the hospital. My kidneys are fully functional again and I’ve been off of dialysis for about two weeks now. I’m on “house arrest” for another two weeks. I still feel like I’ve been hit by a truck — in fact, I didn’t know i could feel this fatigued and still be technically alive. I’m napping a lot, eating when I can, and playing a whole lot of Red Dead Redemption 2, plus streaming spy series with my family (I can recommend “The Bodyguard” on Netflix and “Jack Ryan” on Amazon Prime). On this same note, I also want to vehemently thank everyone who has brought food by the house or taken my mom or myself to appointments. I'll repeat: we just can't do this without you. 

I am regaining my strength and energy very, very slowly. My doctors all say I’ll start feeling like my normal self in 2-3 months. So until then, here’s wishing you all a very happy Thanksgiving — can’t wait to see you out in the world over turkey and a beer.

Much love,

Dan