05 August 2015

A forced sabbatical

Day 1: Waking up in the hospital instead of my bed.
It's been four weeks total on my new Super Dangerous but Absolutely Necessary chemotherapy medication (Bosulif) and it's the end of the world as we know it.
From dangerously low lab values, to this face ...

You should see the other guy ... 
Oh my.
Attractive, I know.
Monday, I went in to see my oncologist and had a "normal" visit. It was what happened when I got home that collapsed my world.
I had just walked in the door and the phone rang. It was my oncologist. 
"I looked at your blood smears under the microscope. And I REALLY don't like what I see. I want you to come in first thing Tuesday for a bone marrow biopsy."
Not good. Not good at all.
My husband and I arrive first thing Tuesday morning. 
Three consults, two insurance calls and three blown IVs later, I'm admitted to the Oncology ICU.
"We believe you're transitioning into blast crisis. You'll need to stay hospitalized through this process. And, we are looking at a bone marrow transplant."
Questions start spilling out of me, rapid-fire.
How long will I be in the hospital?
What chemo med will I be on?
How am I going to take our son off to his first day of college on the 15th?
Will I be out of the hospital by Christmas?
Will I be alive by Christmas?

I can't. I can't do this anymore. I don't want to be sick anymore. I can't watch my dear, sweet husband watch another wife die. I can't leave my precious babies, who have already lost a parent.
I. Can't.

But my God can. 
And I'm reminded that ... 
My character should be stronger than my circumstances.
My struggle always leads to strength
God's timing is always perfect.
God will never leave my side.

Chronic myelogenous leukemia presents in three stages. Most people are diagnosed while in the chronic phase (as I was). A transition to blast crisis (where I am now) is, simply stated, a crisis.
You can read more about the phases of CML here.


  1. Patti,
    This is not a place you want to be, all those questions, of course. I will not give you those cliche responses. Holding you close in thought and prayer

  2. Dear Patti,
    I'm saddened to hear of your current condition. You and your family have been, are, and will continue to be in my daily thoughts and prayers.

  3. No, I did not do this to Patti. As most of you know, I have never come this close to winning a fight with Patti.... NEVER!

  4. Patti, I miss you so much. From here all I do is try to keep up and pray....pray hard for you Mike and the kids. You know that I love all of you. If there is anything else that I can do please let me know. Wishing for the days when what to get in our hash browns was as tough as it got!

    Lee Anne

  5. I have walked in these shoes...and made it through to the other side...I am 4+ years post transplant and doing well. I have felt the fear you are feeling now - I found you through the Facebook page CML+Transplant - I'm sending hope and hugs from here in Ontario...this is a hard road to walk, but it's definitely do-able.

    Cheryl - SCT Jan 2011 - Haplo Trial - Ontario Canada

    1. Cheryl, thank you for your comment. I need to know that people have walked in my shoes and are doing well. Thank you :)