There's No Place Like Home

Today marks my third day home. Already, the month I spent in Omaha seems like a blur. I honestly  don't know how I survived, other than the fact that it wasn't really optional. Those three weeks of hospitalization were, very literally, THE hardest thing I have ever done. I am going to tell the story of my transplant, mostly because I am fairly certain I will forget a lot of the details in the upcoming weeks. After just three days, it already seems like a lifetime ago. I don't ever want to forget what I endured and the hidden blessings that met me along the way.

Day One/ Olive 
The hardest day of this entire process was the first day. I was fortunate enough to spend my first week outside of the hospital, playing with Olive, and enjoying all the activities that Omaha has to offer. I talked frequently with my family that was up there about my treatment plan and our next step, not even thinking about the little ears that were listening. I did not expect for Olive to understand what was going on. Oh, how I was wrong! The night before I was admitted into the hospital, Olive kept saying over and over "Mama go bye bye." I thought she was just teasing me, and telling me to walk away or she was asking me to take her somewhere. However, the morning I left for the hospital, her meaning became very clear. She and I were sitting on the couch and she insisted that I cradle her like a baby (a position she very rarely consents to). She began sucking on my shirt sleeve (again something she never does). Then she looks at me, concern etched all over her little face, and says, "Mama go bye bye. Olive not go bye bye." Then she clung to my shirt and buried her face in my chest. I feel it is unnecessary to say that my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. When I finally left, her screams echoed in my ears for hours. I cried all the way through the admission process. I am so thankful that both of my mothers (my mom and my mom-in-law) were there to comfort Olive and I. To this day, I still feel a sense of loss when I think about the three weeks and the toll they took on my little girl. She was surrounded by family, and did remarkably well, considering. However, it was easy to see the anxiety that my typically care-free girl carried around like a backpack. She would come into my hospital room and immediately get fussy and want me to leave with her. She wanted me to hold her constantly and would frequently fall asleep in my arms when it got to be too much. When we finally were able to check out of the hospital, her joy was overflowing. As we packed the car, she refused to be put down, as she lay her head on my chest. She laughed and babbled as she and I watched our bags get loaded up. When we walked back into the hospital to return our room keys, her anxiety returned full force and she cried "No! Mama go bye bye!" Once we came home to Arkansas, I watched in amazement as Olive became a different child. Her anxiety melted away almost immediately. She no longer feels the need to keep close tabs on me, and has returned to her spunky, independent little self. I thank God for this and the fact that she is young enough to where, eventually, she will have no memory of the past month.

The Cancer Bandit and the Chemo Kid
Not everything during hospitalization was horrible. Jeff and I were able to have some fun times, mostly due to a man that we met that referred to himself as the Cancer Bandit. We met the Bandit and his wife, Mother Hen, during our first week. The Bandit and I started the transplant process on the same day and so we were scheduled to do everything together: stem cell collection, six days of chemo, the transplant, and recovery. God knew that Jeff and I would need these two lovely people to survive our transplant process. It quickly became apparent that the Bandit had a marvelous sense of humor, and Mother Hen's compassion is so great, you rarely meet its equal. They quickly "adopted" Jeff and I, renamed me the Chemo Kid, and formed a bond with us that had true depth and love. During chemo, the Bandit and I entered a competition to see who could finish their chemo drips the fastest. The Bandit had an unfair advantage, due to the fact that he seemed to tolerate the chemo better and could do quicker drips (as well as the fact that he frequently cheated by going to the treatment center early!), he would always win. The nurses joined in our game and rallied to help me become more successful. Many times, they would start moving like molasses when they heard the Bandit's machines beep, while they dashed to mine so that I could be changed out quicker. They would start my drips first, even though the Bandit arrived at the treatment center before I did. I had multiple nurses going back and forth between our rooms, so the could assure me that I was winning. During our treatment, I would hear Mother Hen inquiring about my blood counts and she would come and make sure that I was ok and didn't need anything. I received many hugs and shed many tears with this sweet woman. The Bandit and Mother Hen gave us joy when there was little to be had, let me cry when it got hard, and gave me encouragement when I was sure I couldn't do it anymore. They where there for us in way that only someone going through the same process can be. They were my most unexpected blessing and I love them dearly for that.

The Treatment
One of the most surprising things about the transplant process was that, for me, it wasn't too horrible, physically speaking. I responded very similarly to the chemo as I have to many others over the past year. Not to say that it was, by any means, easy. It was hard- but it wasn't that much harder than other treatments that I have had. The fatigue was a little more intense, but my medical team and my husband did a great job staying on top of  my side effects, making sure that I got the proper medicine to control them. In fact, I did so well, that the doctors were very surprised and even commented that they hadn't seen a transplant go this well in a long time. I know, in my heart of hearts, that this is due to the hundreds of prayers that were said on my account during this time. I want to thank everyone who prayed for me, or sent me some kind of encouragement along the way. Stem cell transplants are so iffy- there are hundreds of ways a person's body can react to it and I know through no power of my own did my body respond so well. Thanks be to God.

The hardest part of the journey was the mental and emotional exhaustion that occurs when you are limited to one building, and limited in the amount of time you can see your family. While my family could visit whenever they wanted and for however long they wanted, physically I could only handle visits a couple hours at a time. Those visits mostly occurred with me on my hospital bed because I was too tired to get up and move around. When I could move, there were only one or two places that we could really visit in the hospital. I felt trapped by both my body and my surroundings. The day of my transplant (one week into hospitalization), I had a mental breakdown when I thought about having to stay at the hospital for two. more. weeks. I cried all day. One of the doctors came to visit me and told me exactly what I needed to hear. "Today is your day," she said. "You get one day to let it all out. Cry, scream, do whatever you need to do to move on [from this feeling]. Tomorrow, we will see if you need another day." So, I had my day. I cried and slept the majority of the day. The release helped me face the rest of my imprisonment (albeit an imprisonment with the kindest, most nurturing people I could ask for). When I had a week left, we made a count down. Tearing up each piece of paper at the end of the day was beyond therapeutic for me. Then, another miracle happened. With 5 days left, my body began to respond to the growth factor shots I was receiving to jump start my brand new immune system. In a span of two days, my white blood cell counts doubled, then tripled. I also began to produce red blood cells and platelets, which is almost unheard of that early after transplant. This boost to my immune system meant one glorious thing- I was able to leave the hospital four days earlier than the original estimation stated. We had to stay outpatient in Omaha for a few days of monitoring and have minor surgery to remove my port and central line. However, even with that time added on, we were still back in Arkansas before I would have originally even been released from the hospital.

My People
I can't tell the story of my transplant without giving credit to my people who helped me survive the entire tedious process. Most obviously, my precious Jesus, healed my body, worked through the doctors and the medicine to give me a smooth transplant, and gave me hope and peace when my days turned dark. My precious in laws came for over a week to help Olive adjust to her new routine and to love on her when I was first admitted to the hospital. Olive loves her Nonna and PopPop dearly and it was comforting to know that she had them to help her with the transition. My dear sweet mother came up for three weeks, first to help me while Jeff returned to AR for a week, and then to watch and care for Olive after my in laws returned to AR. She sacrificed much to be away from her family (she still raising my two little brothers at home) and did it all without a single complaint. She was tireless. My sweet, sweet friend, Erica, drove her husband and their new baby all the way to Omaha to surprise me with a visit. The time with that little family boosted my spirits more than I can say. They are my people and I love them. My darling sister, Candace, left her 2 year old son at home and came to take care Olive for the last leg of my hospitalization. Her job was hard, because by this point, we were all very weary and done with the whole transplant process. She brought fresh energy, great conversation, and play with her to help us get over that last little hump. My supportive dad called every day to check in on me, and supported us financially, emotionally, and spiritually. He made sure Olive had a place to stay that was comfortable, spacious, and not a hospital room. He, alongside my grandparents, brother-in-law, and aunt, worked to hold the fort down in AR so that my mom and Candace could stay in Omaha as long as they did. They sent frequent updates and pictures to help ease our minds and kept us informed about what all was happening at home. Their job was long and difficult, and they did it without complaining...to me at least ; ) Countless friends and family sent me encouragements while I was away. Not a week went by that I didn't receive letters, flowers, or care packages and I truly can't say how deeply these touched me. They always seemed so perfectly timed, arriving right when I was sure that I couldn't handle another second in that hospital. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! And, finally, my dearest husband, Jeff who sacrificed more than anyone ever should have to for a spouse. Even after a year of taking care of me, he was tireless in his watch over me. He kept track of my medications, my food and liquid intake, my weight, and my vitals (which he had to take multiple times a day). He rubbed my back while I hugged the toilet bowl. He would hold my face in his cool hands while I roasted from fever. He continually checked in with me to make sure that I was emotionally handling everything ok and encouraged me whenever I needed it. He was also there for Olive, reassuring her when she got anxious, taking her places she would enjoy, turning everything into a game- what a lucky little girl to have such a dad. Words cannot describe how much I love this man!

Now, the most challenging step in my treatment is complete. There is a light at the end of the tunnel! My final stage of treatment will begin in a month or so. As of now, I will be receiving radiation 5 days a week for 5 weeks. Then it is over. Done. Complete. And the rest of my life will begin.