Journal entry by Jamie Molle —
Hi dear friends and family. I'm sorry I haven't posted anything for several months. If you have not read my journal post of 10-10-16, feel free to start there. I will pick it up from that point.
The new, stronger chemo regimen I started in August initially appeared to be successful, and my M-Spike was dropping by 20% per month. But when I met with my Mayo Clinic physician in early November, I learned the number had doubled since my last check 3 weeks earlier - erasing all the progress I had made since August. 3 months of progress erased in 3 weeks? I did my best to keep a straight face and not physically double over at the news. (See, I am aware of the fact that some doctors can sugar coat bad news, so I've developed a pretty good poker face for my checkups. I always want the whole truth - even if it's tough to take in.)
My doctor said we now had a short window of time in which to harvest my stem cells (which would require 7-10 days at Mayo) and proceed to transplant (another 4-6 week stay), because apparently my body had already built up a resistance to perhaps the strongest Myeloma chemo on the market. He asked if I could begin immediately. But...my kids...their schedules...rides to school...caregivers...? Most importantly, the 3 of us had a vacation scheduled for Thanksgiving week. What if this was the last vacation we would take together? But what if, by waiting 4 more weeks, my M-Spike doubled again - putting my life in further jeopardy? I said I would get back to him. As I prayed over the decision, it became clear that this time away for the 3 of us was vital in preparation for the difficult months that would lie ahead. But that decision also meant that upon our return, I would head back to Mayo for the stem cell retrieval and transplant. Meaning I wouldn't be home for Christmas. I can't find words to describe the anguish of this mama's heart when I told my babies the news.
But something happened while we were on vacation. I was overcome by something - possibly joy(?) - perhaps for the first time since my diagnosis. Mostly I had been in a state of grieving, and any sense of redemption in this journey had eluded me. But this. This was new. This felt something like hope. Prov. 23:18 "There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off." Wait.....for real? Could I trust that the Lord, who has numbered my days, was calling me to believe there could be anything but despair and destruction at the end of this story? I couldn't help but be pulled into it. It was not of me. The Holy Spirit was renewing my mind.
Psalm 27:13-14I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord. Be strong, take heart, and wait for the Lord.
When we returned from vacation, I called my doctor and asked if I could drive the 3 hour roundtrip to Mayo Clinic just to have my M-Spike tested. If it hadn't increased in the past 4 weeks, was there a possibility of doing the 7-10 day stem cell retrieval now - but delaying transplant until after Christmas? He hesitantly said that would be fine. I can't even describe the joy I had as I made the trip. I sensed the enemy of my soul taunting me, warning me not to get my hopes up. Warning me not to tell people the Lord was going to come through for me. Because what if he didn't? But I would have none of it. I knew the Lord was doing something in my heart and mind and he wasn't going to forsake me. Not now. And he didn't. Although my M-Spike had doubled in 3 weeks in November, it had stayed level during this 4 week delay. I walked in the door that evening humming the song "I'll be home for Christmas....."
I still had to do my stem cell retrieval, and left two days later. Everything about the process had a better outcome than I had been told to expect, including the fact that I finished in 6 days as opposed to 7-10, and collected almost 3 million more stem cells than had been the goal.
And Christmas at home with my kids was incredibly sweet.
The transplant still needed to happen, though. So on Jan. 21st, I packed my car and said goodbye to my home and my kids for 4-6 weeks at Mayo. :-( That afternoon, I received my "High Dose Chemo". It's not what you think. This isn't standard chemo. This is an atomic bomb that is injected into your body, decimating everything in its wake. The goal is to eradicate as much cancer as possible in preparation for transplant. But in the process, it also eliminates your white count, red count and platelets (leaving you without an immune system and susceptible to random infections and unexplained bleeding), and burns your mouth, esophagus, stomach and intestines (leaving you violently ill). It even nullifies the immunizations you received as an infant. Two days later, I received the transplant of my own stem cells, harvested in December. The goal is for these stem cells to find the newly raw, barren bone marrow and start to grow new life - called "engraftment" - which can take up to 20 days, at which time the blood counts slowly start to come up. My stay has included many days of infusions, transfusions and hospitalization.....even a couple of days in the ICU where the physician asked my thoughts on a feeding tube, and permission to resuscitate if necessary.
Nothing could have prepared me for the internal storm that high dose chemo and transplant would bring. It's a storm that hits without regard for any physical safeguards or emotional preparedness you have put in place. I was left with one thing only, and that was the sweet presence of my Abba Father, my life giver. Even though I lost sight of "me" through it all, He didn't. He still holds my hopes, fears, courage and dreams. As Mackenzie Ailes so beautifully says, I just need him to pick up the scattered pieces, and put me back together in the name of newness. After all, the thing about destruction is that it births the ground (and bone marrow) for new life.
I'm no longer a slave to fear. I am a child of God.From my mother's womb, you have chosen me. Love has called my name.I've been born again to a family; your blood flows through my veins.You split the sea so I could walk right through itYou drowned my fears in perfect loveYou rescued me so I could stand and say,"I am a child of God".(No Longer Slaves, Bethel Music)
Patients and caregivers love hearing from you; add a comment to show your support.
Help Jamie Stay Connected to Family and Friends
A $25 donation to CaringBridge powers a site like Jamie's for two weeks. Will you make a gift to help ensure that this site stays online for them and for you?
