Chemo 3
1/20/2022 - 2/13/2022
ROUND 3 / 1st CONSOLIDATION: Ian was in remission and at home for a whopping nine days before he had to return to the hospital for more chemo. Such a tease! Although no Leukemia cells could be seen in Ian’s bone marrow, it was possible that some were hiding. Thus, the first round of “consolidation” chemo aimed to kill any residual cells. His trusty droid “IV-75” delivered the same combo of FLAG-Ida+Ven, but a shorter duration. After a week in the care of his favorite ladies (there are ZERO men that work in the BMT wing), Ian was released. But home was short-lived because the “F” word hit with a vengeance during the third night (We don’t talk about Fevers!). While protocol said to go straight back to the BMT, there was no room at the inn. In fact, there was not one bed available in the entire hospital - thanks to Omicron. Because Ian was in immediate need of an IV (or risk sepsis), we had no choice but to brave the ER (and risk Covid). With bags packed, and double-masked, I escorted him through security... Beeeep! “Sir, what’s in the bag?… It’s a Keurig... Excuse me, did you say a Keurig???" So, I’m guessing a coffee maker had never come through the ER; but like a boy scout, Ian came prepared and he wasn’t going to let Folgers be the death of him!
When the first bed came available, Ian moved upstairs to a regular floor. His room was tiny and dark, with windows to the interior, like the discount room on cruise ship. It had thin walls, older equipment and unknown, overburdened nurses. He had become accustomed to the Ritz and now he was at the Econo Lodge. Thankfully, after only 4 days he was moved back to the comfort of the BMT unit, where he would stay for another 3 weeks… of hell. The fevers were worse than ever during this go around, peaking at 103.5 every 6 to 8 hours and lasting for 13 straight days. His body would violently shake with cold tremors, then sweat profusely through the sheets. He couldn’t eat, could barely talk, and only got out of bed when nature called. The infectious disease doctors were now running point. They gave him every test possible, pulled out his port and switched his meds frequently, stabbing in the dark. They found strep and a c-diff relative, but that did not explain the severity and duration of his fevers. One doctor was convinced that Ian’s gal bladder needed to be removed and wrote a dissertation on the matter in Ian’s chart. Thankfully, that theory did not prove true and the fevers finally subsided. He was released on February 14, in a very weak state and 20 pounds down.
During this latest nightmare, I could not see Ian in the hospital. His wing was closed to all visitors, due to the Omicron surge. At one point, two of the three oncologists were out with Covid, so we understood the precautionary measures, but it was still hard for both of us. Further, the doctors recommended that our kids not return to school after Christmas break, also to protect Ian from Covid. A blood cancer patient, who has no white cells, is unlikely to produce the virus fighting antibodies. If he got sick, the docs would have to focus on combatting the Covid, giving the Leukemia an open door to return. Thus, our family went back into quarantine after the new year, with Ian in the hospital, the kids in virtual school, and me working remotely. No one came in and no one went out. My stress level was off the charts, but less running around was the silver lining on the dark cloud. The quiet allowed me to focus on researching our big decision… where to go for transplant?