she smiled, because she can.

... still alive.
smiles are starting to break out :)

Smooth Sailing...

The one constant thought, that remains in my head from other survivors finishing treatment, transplant, or just going through this process is that. One day, you actually wake up -- and if you're lucky (like we all hope I am), we never have to go back. We don't have to go back to the chemotherapy, the IV poles, knowing all of the nurses, putting our lives on hold. If we're lucky, we get to move on.

Along with this gift; however, comes some emotional baggage. From most survivors, you are never truly 'done.' Sure, we may wake up and leave the hospital, our ports may be removed, our hair may grow back. But we are never truly able to escape the memories, or the fear, that it could always come back. And just as some may say, 'Well, you never know you could get hit by a bus...' It's a little different in our case. Therefore, if you know a survivor, a friend, a family member, someone who is still going in for scans three years later to make sure the cancer is still not there. Try to slip on our shoes for a moment. We have fought, tooth and nail to be healthy, and in a moment it could all be taken away...

Therefore, we cheer when other survivors have clean scans, we smile up at the bright skies when someone has hit a remission, we hug and cry over simple small things that others have no idea about. It's a bond, not many can speak of, unless you're part of this community, but one I wish to share with you. Because, I have felt blessed enough that others outside of survivors, have cheered me on -- you know how everyday can influence our lives. In a moment or a second.

As for me, I am on day +23 after transplant. I had my first check-up yesterday. No transfusions necessary, medications are starting to slow down, and no blood work for two solid weeks. Although the fatigue is definitely keeping me from going out and being the twenty four year old I want to be. I'm able to work out twice a day, and am starting to catch up with friends.

I've also been informed, that I will be more than capable of taking over a full time teaching position, come September. (can we all cheer now?!). So the next few weeks will be dedicated to finding a job, because... once again I'll be moving back to Boston in August, to attempt to start this life over again.

Now that I'm on the other side, things are definitely looking up.
Just as the wisest woman, we all know said --- the only way out is through.

And I think I'm on the other side :)
Smooth Sailing from here kids...

All my Love,

B

I feel it in my veins...

It's True. The good stuff, i feel it...

I'm out of the hospital, and I have YET to stop smiling. It's only been 24 hours since I've been let out of those white walls. And I just can't tell you how much more you appreciate the little things again.

When I was first re-diagnosed. I felt like I had this appreciation. Small crunch of a boot in the snow, perfect clear sky. The ability to see your breath in the air. And now as Winter, has finally fallen ill behind us, Spring has definitely sprung, and there are a bunch of other small things you get to appreciate during this season. Even missing an enitre month of the outside world in the hospital. The things I missed weren't just my friends and family.

It's the air. the perfect sun. The spring day, as cliche as you want to make it sound. The greenery. God, the baseball season. Smelling the scents of fresh cut grass, hearing kids getting ready for summer and their thrilling smiles and laughter. It's just... it's too much, after you've been in the hospital for so long. But, its in my veins. All of it. The good stuff. And I'm eating it up.

Today, I realized, I have to take things very, very slowly. All the more time to smell the good things and feel that spring air right? right.

Hope you are all so well. And that spring has brought you as many smiles, as it brings to me and my family. We are all very 'bright' would be a good word to use, these last few hours.

All my Love,
Post SCT,

B

report from bekah's mom

Rebekah had her stem cell transplant on mon- 13 bags of cells over approx 2 hours.
She has spiked several neutropenic fevers. She has severe mucositis, which is very painful and makes it difficult to eat. Pain and symptom management stopped yesterday for a consult and set up a PCA pump with fentynal for pain. Similar to morphine pump, this pump gives her a continuous drip of pain medication which she is able to increase by pressing a button. She got a decent nights sleep last night. Before transplant, she was walking a mile to a mile and a half a day.
After transplant til yesterday, she could barely stand up because of the severity of the pain. Today, she and her pump hope to resume their walking routine.

Diane and I have been here 24/7 except for the night before transplant when she was feeling good and had one of her favorite nurses. Bek encouraged us to go home and get a good nights sleep to prepare for post transplant.

We have her room decorated with pictures and cards from everyone- as well as with her bed linens from home- with her Aunt Bobbie's quilt and with Nan and Pop's friend Jackie Heinz's afghan- stitched with a hail mary in every stitch. We have taken over the room. Posters from her friend Darrel adorn the walls. Boston Red Sox hats in several colors hang from an iv pole from the ceiling. We will need a u haul truck to go home.

We are certainly not out of the woods yet, but for this moment-right now- she is not in severe pain, Diane is trying to figure out what she can eat- assembling a menu of sorts that will work with mucositis and Bekah is sitting up in bed eating oatmeal. just a short moment of rest- but we will take it.

thanks to everyone for the thoughts and prayers- keep em coming!
darlene

Stem Cell Transplant - Birthday day.

Three months of salvage chemo: check
Six straight days of high Dose Chemo: Checck
Receive stem cellls back: Pending Tomorrow

The last six days of chemo have been nothing short of hell. But in the grad sceme of things, who cares? It's OVER. I will never have a nother bad, lifted on an IV pole again to receive Chemotherapy.

My stem cell birthday - will be. April 21st, this monday.

We will still have a two week major hurdle to jump, after the cells are in tge body. They can form infection, some not -s0 - nice side effects, major fatige, loss of wieght, appetite and energy.

But!
From tonight on - no mo' chemotherapy for bekah :) '
And a small tiddy bitty birthday for my cells.in the good old morn.

All My love
To all of you,

B

Bekah - boo

It is basically a day before I admit myself to Upenn hospital for four to six weeks of isolation to rid myself of cancer, and the horrible memories attached to it. But before I start the last battle of this dreadful two year war. I find that most people lose themselves during this process. Sometimes it's impossible not to. Here you are, diagnosed, going through treatment, while the rest of this chaotic, but beautiful world keeps moving.

And you tell yourself, this is hard. too hard. You've lost your physical appearance. You'v lost your strength. You've lost too many friends to count. You've lost your job, you may have lost family members. Maybe a close relationship. Cancer cleans house in so many ways and angles you have no idea, unless you're living it. The point of this all, though, I've realized. Finally. After years of disease. Is not to focus on what you've lost. But what is left inside of you. So, for tonight. The first and last night of many that I am unmedicated. Without pain meds, nasuea medications, or sleeping pills. I wanted to share with you, what I have left inside me. That has nothing to do with cancer.

Then Tuesday, I'll begin to put these pieces together and commit myself to six more days of chemotherapy, and transplant.

Bekah

• I've played basketball (pointguard) from age five all the way through my sophomore year of college.
• I have the tiniest ears, an adult could ever have.
  
• When I drink white grape juice it makes me think of singing hebrew blessings in temple with my family.
  
• I worked in Domestic Violence Shelters in Philly and Boston, in HS and during my Freshmen summer after college, I helped format the Social Work program at BU for their DV program
• I'm a reform Jew. And Irish. I've got the curly hair (when I have hair!) and freckles (kisses from the sun)
• If I really really care about someone, I tell them I love them from the moon, to the stars, and back again. These people are in a selective group ;)
  
• If I hadn't of been diagnosed, I would not be as close with my Aunt and Uncle, or my mothers, as I am now.
  
• I have the most horrid feet in the entire world (ask my past roomates)
  
• I have a huge soft spot for Frank Sinatra and Etta James
  
• Some of the best and most relaxing months of my life was when I was free, in Jacksonville, playing football in the ocean, fires on the beach, and in love with my classroom of third graders.

• As a reform Jew, I believe in my religion, heritage, and past. But, not so much on the G-d end of things, or a higher power.
  
• I have lost a lot of people. And have learned that it's okay.
  Sometimes, memories are good to hold onto.

• My favorite days of the year, are the first weeks in Boston when the colors change in the fall, and baseball season is in full tilt.

• From a very early age, til I moved out for college I had the poster 'A woman without a man, is like a fish without a bicycle.' I still have it.
  
• I have taught hebrew school in three different states, but have yet to go to Israel. And, am going to attempt to go this year.
  
• I have wanted to be a teacher, forever. And always, in an inner city or at-risk-youth schools.
  
• I get a high from sending out packages, to make them smile.
  
• I used to have a passion for shooting black/white night photography
• I have been brought up in a lesbian household, with a sister and a brother, and would not have changed a second of it.

• I've been to the Jersey Shore every summer, since I was born. It's the safest place, I have.
• When I was very young, my parents used to call me Bekah-boo.
  

Cancer destroys a lot of things, in others' lives. Friendships, relationships, maybe even physical identities. But there are pieces, especially of me, that I always attempt, even though it is so easily forgotten. To, remember. There are pieces, to always put back together once the battle is done, and you begin recovery. These are the things, that cancer can't take from you.

It just can't.

Have a wonderful week, loves.

I will be admitted into Upenn Tuesday Morning (April 15th) to receive a pick-line, then my first dose of chemo. This chemo will continue till Sunday (April 20th). Then a day of rest.

Hope you will all enjoy the sunshine for me,
as I will be in isolation for 4-6 weeks.

All my Love,
B

Today I am grateful for: tuesday-sunday being the last days of chemo treatment
Today I smile for: baseball season truly beginning
Today I miss: having my own classroom and past students.

Strength

A strong woman is a woman bleeding inside.
A strong woman is a woman making herself strong
every morning while her teeth loosen and her back throbs.
Every baby, a tooth, midwives used to say,
and now every battle a scar. A strong woman
is a mass of scar tissue that aches when it rains
and wounds that bleed when you bump them and
memories that get up in the night and pace in boots to and fro...
 

I am incredibly happy to tell all of you that your wonderful positives vibes, prayers, and thoughts have contributed so much, within the last week. After three weeks of prepping for stem cells, and attempting to collect. I am pleased to let you all know, that we've hit the 'magic' number, just barely. But enough, to move on to transplant.

A strong woman is a women who craves love
like oxygen or she turns blue chocking.
A strong woman is a women who loves
strong and weeps strongly and is strongly
terrified and has strong needs.
 

After a very disappointing week, last week. One of my dearest friends, John. Came to visit me for the weekend. This man, has watched me battle through my kidney disease, my first treatment of cancer last year, and now transplant this year. He is truly an angel in disguise. And means the world to me.



I'd like to believe it was all the drugs working in my body, or that the timing finally came for my stem cells to finally leave my bone marrow. But after a relaxing weekend, of spending time with one of my oldest friends and smiling LOTS. This past Tuesday, I had finally collected enough stem cells and told, that I will finally begin the stem cell transplant, I've been waiting for. We will start my first day of my LAST DAYS of chemotherapy on Tuesday, April 15th. Therefore, after five/six consecutive days of chemotherapy, I will then receive my stem cells back into my system on Tuesday, April 22nd. Finally, we begin approaching the last hurdle of this incredible challenge.

A strong woman is strong
in words, in action, in connection, in feeling;
she is not strong as a stone but as a wolf
suckling her young. Strength is not in her, but she
enact it as the wind fills a sail..

Although the ICE, collection, and preparation towards this step in treatment has been a rollercoaster for many, besides me and my family. I can not even begin to tell you what transplant could entail. The side effects, the pain, it is all too much to think about or to even put into words for all of you. A truly ugly side of treatment, that no one deserves. So instead of divulging the details of what my 25-30 days of isolation will be like in the next month. I'd much rather ask of you to do something for me and my family.

What comforts her is others loving
her equally for the strength and for the weakness
from which it issues, lightning from a cloud.
Lightning stuns. In rain, the clouds disperse.
Only water of connection remains,
flowing through us...

Transplant is about an entire month of isolation within the hospital. And, it is my feeling as well as my family that you at all times have a medical advocate at your side. To help us succeed in this, with the knowledge that Upenn is pretty far away from our home. I ask if you would like to help our family at all, to please please, send two specific gift cards that will basically save my mothers during this time.

For me: Best Buy Cards & Borders. Or send your favorite DVD to my house. I'm also, diving into Poetry, so if you have a favorite poet. Send him/her my way. Attention span is difficult during these weeks of treatment; therefore, poetry, will become my best friend. :)

As well as...

Gas Cards: Sunoco, Mobil, BP, and Lukoil.
and Starbucks cards!

My mothers have literally been keeping me alive during these past few months of treatment, and they RUN on coffee. Trust me, a five dollar donation. Will make them smile, which will in turn make me smile as well.

Sending all my Love
to all of you.

Strong is what we make
each other. Until we are all strong together.
- M. Piercy.
 

-B

bekah's kevetch

Sweetest Friends and Family,

I apologize for not updating, or detailing the last few weeks. It's been an incredibly draining, collection-limbo-hell. Something I was not really prepared for. When people speak of Stem Cell Transplants. The most difficult parts of this treatment are usually the ICE and BCV chemo, as well as the days after you receive back your stem cells...

Little did we know collection would be so difficult. Or, that it may not work.

To just quickly recap on the last three weeks

• We have driven to Upenn, leaving between six am and 9am (one hour - two hours during rush hours) every morning for the last two weeks. And usually are there till five pm. Getting us back to the house between six and eight at night.
  
• I have been injecting myself four times a day for the last three weeks, with neuprogen, hoping that my bone marrow will produce enough stem cells.
• The nueprogen has caused difficult side effects, most I chose not to share with you.
  
• The surgery to collect stem cells was not only a dangerous one, but painful.
  
• Pain killers are not even touching the pain, that my bones and surgery have left me in.
  
• After a full week of attempting to collect, I am hardly near the minimum number of cells to proceed with transplant.
• We are attempting next week again, to collect, but if I do not reach the golden number by Wednesday. Which does not look likely. I am left with two options.
• Go for another round of chemotherapy, and start this process all over again.
• Stop treatment, and accept that this is all my body can do.
  
• I have not slept in weeks.
  
• I have not returned emails or phone calls in weeks.
  
• Me and my family will be stuck in this limbo until we know if we can go forward with transplant, or until I make a decision to continue treatment or not.
  
• Blood pressure has been significantly low, with heart rates incredibly high, as well as ankles beginning to swell.
  

I apologize that this post, is on the somewhat negative side. I have tried, to hold off until I had better news. However have received so many emails and phone calls, I needed you all to know what was going on..

Much love to you all,
Still fighting,

B

Collection

After a very uneasy week and weekend of waiting for counts to go up. And being told from several doctors perspectives that there was a good chance of being unable to collect. Which would mean no transplant, or another round of chemotherapy.

I have chosen not to post, til good news arrived. And spare all of you the drained emotions of me and my familiy. To think -- I would go through three rounds of ICE, and to find out that the chemo damaged too much bone marrow to collect. Or, to find that I would need to endure another round of chemo before BVC chemo and transplant.

It was all, a little much. And with the flooding of phone calls and emails.

I decided to post tonight, to give you all a little glimpse on what was going on.

After two whole weeks of giving myself neuprogen shots (white blood cell boosters, four times a day which results in incredible amounts of bone pain, and heading into Upenn every single day of the week for the last seven days...)
Good results, finally came in later this afternoon. We finally reached the '6' that gives us the green light to proceed with surgery and collection

So, we cross our fingers, legs, toes... that all goes smoothly tomorrow after a small transfusion, the heading into surgery for a line to be placed in my chest (for them to collect cells from), and then we pray - or send positive vibes, or whatever you and I must all do for good thoughts. In hope that collection goes smoothly tomorrow, and I collect a decent amount of stem cells.

For this to be one of the most 'easier' parts of treatment, in this six month process. I have to say... that I truly guess, nothing easy is ever worth fighting for.

Hope to report by the end of the week, that I've collected enough stem cells to proceed with transplant. Thank you for all of your caring thoughts, and concerns the last week. I truly appreciate the support.

- B

Because he wanted to laugh

He knew that the days ahead would be difficult. There were questions to be faced and a plan of action to be prepared...

It seems that even in the medical world, when you attempt to plan things. And hold onto them, plans, preparation, life, can change in an instant. You learn that when you're diganosed with cancer the first time. You tell yourself, 'wait, this is not suppose to happen right now.' You're suppose to be living, laughing, working, enjoying life without pain.

So you have to overturn that thought process. You have to learn, when you are diagnosed for the second time, how to survive treatment, cancer, and live. While most people might hide or take cover during treatment. I've learned that I must take the days, in which I don't feel pain, or I am able to get out of bed. To enjoy them. To live and laugh and cliche as that sounds. To have a life..

He knew that he should think about it. He knew also, that he would not think, because everything was clear to him already.

However, when you begin treatment, and certain dates are ingrained in your head. You hold onto them. Tightly. For cancer patients, treatment and schedules are the one thing we do hold onto, at least for me, it feel as though I have some sort of control.

So when my doctors assured me, that this week we would head into stem cell collection on the 26th which would include a small surgery, and a collection of blood and stem cells. In which later they seperate the blood from cells and freeze them util I am ready to receive these specific cells back into my body (which will be my 'transplant' day). And it would take three to four days to then collect these specific cells. Completing this part of treatment by March 26th...

I felt certain. That this is how it was going to happen. This was how it was planned.
It was a set date. A date I could hold onto.

Unfortunately. I walked into Upenn this morning to see if my stem cells were ready to be collected. They have to reach a certain 'peak' to collect a significant amount for my transplant. The number we shoot for is 6. Unfortunately, for me and my family, my number was zero. To say that this was a disappointment would be an understatement. And with that comes fear, fear of being unable to collect cells after three rounds of ICE. In which, I would ultimately, not be able to proceed as planned for the transplant. Fears, that have not even been discussed with my doctors. In addition, I am literally kicking myself for expecting things to go on time, or as planned. As a cancer patient -- this is one of my biggest lessons that I've learned.

because the plan had been set long ago..

So, as the roller coaster continues. I sit here. On a Monday evening. After enduring my third round of ICE, blood work, and a full day at Upenn. To find out that most likely, we will not begin the collection process til next Monday (March 31st) . (We will go back in Wednesday (3/26) and Friday (3/28) to double check the numbers though, in hopes that I will at least reach a 4 or 5, sometime this week). This means, the April 8th admission for transplant will not happen til a week or two later. For now, starting dates are all up in the air, dependent on collection.

and because he wanted to laugh...

You learn an incredible amount of coping mechanisms and lessons throughout three diseases, two of which focus on cancer. I would by lying if I told all of you I was not upset by this news. But I would also be lying, if I told you I was not originally upset that I was diagnosed with cancer. And as always, we come to make a choice somewhere along the line. Either, spend your energy and thoughts, wallowing in anger. Or, take the time now, to live, laugh, and focus on the good.

When specific dates have been set for collection.
I will be sure to send them your way :)

All my Love,
to all of you.

B

He knew that the days ahead would be difficult. There were questions to be faced and plan of action to be prepared. He knew that he should think about it. He knew also that he would not think, because everything was clear to him already, because the plan had been set long ago, and because he wanted to laugh. - Peter Keating, The Fountainthead, by Ayn Rand.

Goodbye Sweet ICE...

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror, I can take the next thing that comes along.'

You must do the thing, you think you cannot do"
-E. Roosevelt

And ohh baby, we just did it!

The family and I are finally home after our last infusion of ICE chemotherapy. And officially are halfway done treatment!

So..Goodbye, sweet ICE... goodbye forever.

Nothing poetic or expressed in words could ever capture the feelings within me. Except to know, that I am without any cancer in my body, and we halfway through treatment. So, instead talking about the future rounds of chemo, and transplant. you get another great bekah smile :) Because we truly need to celebrate these small but absolutely beautiful victories in this mess of a disease.





Don't be fooled, I do not look like this after treatment. But this is how I FEEL right now. So i wanted to give all of your a sense of my happiness and accomplishment for finishing up this last round of ICE.

I will update you all soon, on the next steps of the stem cell collection and transplant procedure. But for now, please just smile with me, and understand what a HUGE accomplishment it has been to complete three rounds of the most grueling chemotherapy out there. And know it was because ALL of you were cheering me on. So please keep sending good vibes that I stay out of the hospital during this round. And keep thinking of this cute little body, NOT having any cancer in it.

I kinda like the sound of that :)

Sending allll of my love possible,
to all of you.
My incredible army of cheerleaders. Who get me through, everyday.

Love,
B

Today I miss: my nan and pop
Today I smile for: ending ICE treatment
Today I am grateful for: the entire Hale family, and how much they make me smile day in and day out.
and
Today I am incredibly, incredibly appreciative of : my beautiful, beautiful, courageous mothers.

Round Three!

After clean scans on Thursday, and spending time with my two incredible friends who came up to see me this weekend. As well as my brother coming home from college. It's been a wonderful few days. Almost too wonderful, as I sit here in the hospital bed, awaiting the inevitable.

But here are some fun photos of how wide I was smiling this weekend!






As for chemotherapy, the moms and I were called in at one. It's now almost 8:00 and I haven't received anything (they're a bit behind tonight it seems). Computer systems are shut down, and we're hoping that I'll at least get my first dose of chemo before midnight.

Although, I'm a tired pup. And my body is getting weaker from this treatment. It will feel so nice on Friday to wake up from this horrid, freezing, dream of ICE.

Here's to Round Three, and all it entails.

In addition, I ask you to please, please, send your warmest wishes to one of my best friends, Darrel. He is having a node biopsied on Friday, that has recently lit up on two dirty PET scans. We pray it is nothing to be concerned about, but send positive vibes towards Cincy, OH on Friday morning.

All my Love,
to all of you,
B

Today I miss: having a normal 24 year old body.
Today I smile for: the last bit of ICE
Today I am grateful for: being cancer-free.

A perfect moment

There are very few moments in my life, where I would say they involved perfection. Or anyone's life for that matter. I think to myself over the last year how much cancer has caused pain upon my family, my friends, me. I think of how this disease has left such a sour and bitter taste in my mouth. But, in contrast, we must realize without those moments, we would not be able to acknowledge how incredible other moments are.

perfect, sweet moments.

• Tuesday...
  

On Tuesday, the 4th, I had a scheduled PET scan. A PET scan determines the metabolic activity taking place in your body. In other words, it reveals how much cancer is still active or not active. Once we received the PET results, it determines whether this form of treatment is working. If these last two months have been worth it.

• This morning...
  

I sat in a fixed corner, across the room from my mothers as they looked out at the sights of Penn tower, and I connected eyes with my lovely nurse practitioner. She knew, as well as I, that we have been desperately waiting to hear this news. And quietly sat down next to me, discussing the results. And what they revealed. I gave her a hug and walked over to the two women who have literally carried me through the last two months of treatment. And watched me at my ultimate worst and weakest.

Looking at both of them, I repeated what was said in that lovely whisper.

I am cancer free.

There is no sign of any disease.

The PET is completely negative.

To be honest, I put my arms around both of my mothers, and cried. I couldn't stop. With the help of both of them, and so many of you. I have beaten cancer for the second time. And I will hold onto this moment, in a deep place within me.

• Tomorrow, and the next day...
  

We still have a very long road ahead of us. However, for now please enjoy this news as much as I have. It is yours, as much as it is mine. For now, my family and I will bask in the glory of the these results, rest, relax, and prepare for round three of ICE, which begins Wednesday, March 12th. And ever so gently, take in, this perfect moment.

All my love
to all of you

B

Discharge

Sweetest Friends,

I was brought home last night,
today we head back to Upenn this morning for a pulmonary exam and more testing.

Just wanted to leave a quick note that the fevers have broken.
Counts are beginning to rise again.
And we are (knock on wood) out of the danger zone for this round of chemo.

Will be updating soon, with more thoughts, and more energy.

All my Love
to All of you.

B

Today I miss: sleep
Today I smile for: amazing oncology nurses
Today I am grateful for: family. family. family.

fever

Report from Bekah's mom-darlene

After a day of balancing pain medications and other pills to attempt to reduce Rebekah's crippling bone pain of the last week. Rebekah developed a fever yesterday, the high was 101.2. A little nerve-wracking since it spiked from 98.0 to 101.2 within a half hour. On advice from her oncologist, we took her to UPenn Emergency Room. She was admitted to the hospital late last night. After antibiotics, fluids, x-rays, her fever finally became stable. After a long night in the ER. She is neutropenic, which means she is very susceptible to infection. And physically, very weak. The docs are unable to identify the source of infection at the moment. Her temperature seems to rise and fall a bit since last night. As we try to keep things stable. Her Red blood cells are also low- so she will receive a blood transfusion this am.

please send positive energy her way. we will be here for a few days. trying to maintain pain, a good temp, hydration, and to clear out the infection.

-Darlene

Stars

All of us are in the gutter, some are just looking up at the stars. -
O. Wilde



Yes. I am here.
Looking up. promise.

Round Two has been better than Round One.
This is all we care about and are now focusing on at the moment.

IV fluids and zofran have been infused from Sunday and will be received through Sunday for two hours every morning. This is through a port access (at home) to maintain good hydration, blood flow, and avoid re-admittance back into the hospital. I am now found around day nine from chemo -- counts will begin to drop this week. As we head back into Upenn tomorrow morning for fluids, blood work, and a Lupron shot. To surpress menstrual cycles during treatment.

The Lupron shot is done during this process to avoid blood release during treatment which, in females could technically be a cause for concern since blood levels are liable to be low tomorrow. Women have this choice during ICE and transplant to avoid break-through bleeding and complications. Lupron has also been put through trials to determine if this shot can continue on a women's fertility during this cancer treatment. However, it is still in the early process of research.

The last few days I have been lost between different pain medications, IV poles, eating healthy, and, to put it bluntly cancer. Coincidentally, I had three different at home Nurses drop over materials, to hook up the IV's for morning infusions. I feel like sometimes, when I end up talking to these women... I see heroes.

Women who have worked in oncology and other medical areas, to fulfill such a a small but wonderful gesture. Giving ME fluids. To keep my body moving. I always listen to where they studied or, where their families were from, I want to know them. I want to know they know a part of me.

As you begin to battle through the trenches of your own cancer treatment. You slowly realize the difficult truth in connections you lose over time. But, in turn, those you gain from your journey and experience as well. As treatment becomes more isolated you appreciate these small interactions. It is no longer a nurse, who came to your house today for fluid. It is Galina, daughter of ten who supports four daughters and wants to make a difference in the world... Or Anna who just had to say goodbye to her sister who suffered from MS for years. And is now finally back to work.

Or is is them knowing me. A once was- third grade teacher...

Without them, I wouldn't be here,
looking up at the stars.

Without them. I wouldn't be here,
beating this cancer.

- B

Finally home..

After falling a few times in the hospital,
with chemo going accordingly (no complications as of yet)
we hope that I'll be tucked away in bed for a few short days
to gain some strength.

all my love
to all of you

b

i miss my: focus
i smile for my: amazing brother and aunts and uncles who
showered me at my home with bagels and lox this morning.
i am grateful for:my moms,
I would have never gotten through this one with out them.

Round Two

It seems the mothers and I have started getting used to the hospital life once again. After waiting all day to be called into Upenn, we were finally summoned at 5pm. And were admitted around 7pm. We only packed about 3 suitcases full of clothing, food, dvds, and other fun stuff for the next four days. I can't imagine what we'll be loading into the hospital during transplant ;)

It is now just about 10 o'clock, and we've decided to start the 'E' portion of ICE tonight. Then tomorrow morning, bright and early I'll be hooked up for the 24 hour combo, and if all goes well we'll top off my hospital stay on Friday with my last dose of chemo.

We anticipate that I will stay an extra day to tapper me off from IV meds to oral pills this time around, to prevent any complications later on in the next week.

Can't thank you all enough for your words of encouragement as of late
and cards, thoughts, calls, and emails of love and support.

I apologize if I have not responded, but know
please know - I hear each and every one of you.

To my Florida loves, Curley Teachers, and Lesley Family. I will always be forever in debt to your generosity and beautiful souls. You have made this difficult time, easier for me and my family. I could never thank you enough.

Sending all my love,
to all of you

B
---
Today I miss: my energy
Today I am grateful for: my mothers and their stubborn personalities,
i have yet to be alone during my hospital stays.
Today I smile for: Mrs. Burke, her bon bons.
and always having the ability to make me laugh.

A little cancer secret

During this two year battle with cancer, I would like to think I have learned some lessons from my past treatment, to bring towards this one.

A major obstacle I faced last year, and begin to face this year as well. Is to look sick at age twenty three or twenty four. In our young 20's we should be vibrant, and beautiful, and not give a second thought to illness. But unfortunately, for some it happens. It has happened to me, and it happens to others I care for, very deeply as well.

Most would think, you can easily shrug off the 'sick' look. Say 'who cares? it's just hair, or eyebrows, or eyelashes.' But alas, it is not the shallow loss of these characteristics that stings the cancer patient, it is the loss of normalcy, the grief of once was, the knowledge that we were somewhere else a year ago, or six months ago. It is the loss of a past life whether it be a healthy mom with five children and a stoic husband, a brave woman with a beautiful partner and fur kids, a young musician attempting to start his life over in a new city, a father with two adorable daughters and a beautiful wife, or a young teacher, desperate to know when she'll be able to have her own classroom again.

By looking this way in the world, we have a choice to make. Never an easy one at that though. Last year, I fumbled and grappled with my physical appearance, understanding what my appearance meant. It meant, I was receiving chemotherapy. It meant, I had left my life in Florida (and now in Boston) to receive treatment. It meant, I had given up my world to fight for my life. It meant, I am hoping for a cure.

So, as the rest of the outside world may see us as weak, or sickling, and possibly unattractive. We, as patients and survivors, and even caretakers have to understand the magnitude of what this outer appearance truly is.

Last year, I saw myself, hairless, ill, and dreading the outside world for fear of judgment. Now, after time and a second diagnosis, I see myself and other cancer patients and survivors for what they really are, when going through treatment...

warriors.

We have not only let go of our physical characteristics, but we've let go of a life - in some way or some form. And in turn, we are fighting for a new one. If that means, we do it without hair, or eyebrows, or physical strength. So be it.

To me, that is not weak.
To me, this is the strength of a cancer patient.

---

The sun is shinning, and this cancer patient is finally ready for round two of ICE.
I will be admitted Wednesday afternoon, and be held at Upenn till Saturday afternoon. If any complications arise, you will be updated.


oh.. and one last picture for my favorites. :)

All my Love
to All of you
B

The clearest Joy

The clearest joy
is the ceasing of great pain.
When the iron bell rises from the head,
when the clanging shock subsides along the nervews,
when the body slides free
like a worm from a hook,
how the putrid city air
bubbles in the lungs
Light glides in honey over the eyes.
The austere ceiling is made of meringue.
The body, uncoils, uncoils
wonderfully empty like a lily.

Breathing is dancing.

Dumbly and wholly
like the basil plant on the sill
I lift my nose into the sun.
- m. piercy
-----
The clouds have started to part, counts have begun to rise. And I've finally found myself able to get out of bed, walk outside, ride on the stationary bike, and begin to resume to normal eating. Slowly, I rebuild myself emotionally for round two of ICE. In which I will be admitted this Wednesday, February 20th. They will keep me, most likely until the 24th. Also, after meeting with doctors this past week. The PET scan - which will determine how much treatment I will receive before transplant - is set for March 4th.

Please send out kind thoughts, and sincere love to some of my fellow friends, and hodgkins warriors, Steve, who is undergoing treatment as we speak for ABVD chemotherapy is getting a PET scan on Monday.

My Boston girl, Kelly, is getting her required three month check-in PET scan this Thursday.

And lastly, but certainly not least, Darrel, is going in for his PET on Tuesday. Which will be around nine months post stem cell transplant for him. Please keep these three, near and dear to your heart this week.

All my love,
to all of you,

B