Happy First Birthday

And this one is to all of us. To everyone who helped me to see this transplant through. My family, my friends, acquaintences. My doctors and my donor.  Old friends, very old friends and new friends.  Spanning two continents. And including encouraging prayers from possibly all the continents (except, I'm pretty sure, Antartica).  I'm a very lucky girl and an extremely happy citizen of this planet. I have a giant smile on my face most of the time and I have enough energy to have a pretty good spring in my step.  

I must say, I feel different. I have had the unusual pleasure in this lifetime to understand what it is to be happy without having to try.  I'm thrilled because it frees me up to think more easily about other things. It also just frees me up to just enjoy the moment. Whatever that might be. Walking the pup (in the rain). Joining first grade on a school trip. Chopping bell peppers.  Planning a Bar Mitzvah. I think, in fact, I might sometimes be annoying. Isaac was hungry and aggrivated watching Ari play soccer the other day, and I just let him complain while I'll continured on my conversations next to the football pitch on a partly cloudy sunday morning. And then he just screamed at me, "I'm not like you! You're always so damn happy!" He's right. I guess that's got to get old. But not for me...

I sent my lovely donor a happy birthday letter. I still haven't heard from her. And at risk of being annoying, I think I'll always continue to write her. She saved a life and a family. I just can't leave it alone. Unless one day she asks me too. (Hope not). 

I registered yesterday to become an Immerman Angel. This was the organization in Chicago that helped me so much when I first was diagnosed. I was so angst ridden about what decisions to make that I interviewed about twenty people who had had AML. Ten who had chosen to do chemo and ten who had chosen transplant. It was so good to speak to people who were alive and well and happy with their choices. In the end I came out just as confused, but I think the real benefit was that I reached out. It was incredibly comforting.  Well, they were all Immerman Angels, and the organiztion hooked me up with them.  So, now, I'm on their list and might one day, have the priveledge of returning the favor.

It was a little freaky regisitering for them. I had to write down my entire medical story. I had to go back in to my papers and figure out all the different types of chemotherapy I did. How many times. What the outcomes were, etc. If I calculated correctly, I did 12 rounds of chemo that put me in the hospital for about 30 days each. Over a period of almost four years, collectively, I was in the hospital for a year. And in that time I had about nine different types of chemo. As I was calculating this I was starting to feel really toxic, and freaked out. Almost like it was too soon for me to be looking at this. But this didn't really dawn on me until I had almost completed the questionaire. So I just moved through it and hit send.  Because more important to me was to hopefully set myself up so that maybe I can help someone else one day. And hopefully this is just a beginning. 

So, Happy Birthday again. We're going to the countryside tomorrow for one night at a nice hotel, with the kids and the dog. We're going to romp around in the woods. Swim in a heated pool, Have a picnic. AND it's supposed to be sunny. All I wanted to do for this birthday was to be with my family and be in nature. A human on a planet.  Lucky me. 

And thank you again. And again.
Love,
Dina

Summer, Blood and Boobs. It's all Good

This summer was dreamy. It was a summer where you say to yourself, "If I survive this transplant, I want to have a summer just like this one..." We travelled like crazy. Some short trips, some long. To Rome, Paris, Greece, Scotland, NY and CA.  It was a post-transplant travel extravaganza. Everyday I wake up and life is like this giant cup cake I just want to gobble. 

So, it's officially post Labor Day in the US.  And I guess that means summers' wind-down. There were things about London today that reminded me so much of NY autumns. Golden light. Long shadows. It made me think of corduroys and looseleaf.  And of grabbing whatever remainders of summer you can.  Today I played tennis and walked everywhere, as much as I could. I went in for my Azacytadine shot and they were so pleased to see me in my tennis outfit. I secrectly knew they would be. It's got to feel great for a healthcare provider to see a patient doing really well. What a great field to be in...medicine. If you're in on the right side of it, boy, you can really contribute to the world.

I had a recent biopsy in NY with Dr. Giralt, on August 22nd.  He was kind enough to email me two days later with initial results that there was NO evidence of AML.  AT ALL!!! None! Complete remission. And although I kinda sorta knew that, having a biopsy is nerve wracking and always throws me back into the throes of worry and fears. I can't help but brace myself for the worst.  I think it's because I never felt sick from the stupid disease. It was never something I could gage within myself. I couldn't judge whether something made me feel better or worse. The stupid disease would just creep back on me.  But now, I've got kick-ass donor cells that ain't gonna put up with that monkey business.  I am thrilled. Just thrilled. And I'm completely in awe of my donor, my doctors, my family, my friends, for staying so strong during this nighmare and holding me so tight as I had to go through this. 

I had a complete check-up and check-down while I was in NY. And I had the great big boob smash. Mammagrams are tough!  The woman conducting my tests was cleverly very chatty. She keep me distracted. She was also a massage therapist and herbalist. Then the eek eek ow! That was when she stopped the masher and went off and took a picture. They squeeze your poor booby between two glass plates until you can't stand it anymore. That's when they stop to scan you. Women just by nature of what our bodies do, have to have a high high tolerance for pain. Otherwise we'd have underpopulation and a lot of beaten up mammographers...