Inconclusive

Over the past four days I've received a lot of emails and phone calls.

Inconclusive? What do you mean inconclusive...

wait. So what happens if it's cancer?

So the transplant didn't work?

In short, we don't know. It's unfortunate. It's a little heartbreaking. And, to put in bluntly, and incredibly not-poetic in any fashion,
it sucks. But it is, what it is, and we have to deal with it.
So I will give you the facts. Because, that is all I have. No answers, at the moment. Just facts.

Once again, a PET scan measures the metabolic activity going on in your body. When things 'light up' it usually signals to the lovely oncologists that it's cancer. Although, we have wonderful technology and a great learning of science. We have to accept, that nothing is perfect. And that's where my PET scan falls under.

Inconclusive. not sure. gray area. unable to tell.

Two nodes lit up in my chest. This would usually mean, the transplant did not work, it is cancer, and we have to take the next steps -- whatever they may be. Treatment, or not. Accept it, and move on. However, this PET scan was not 'hot.' Meaning, when you have a PET scan you measure metabolic activity by SUV levels. It's all based off a scale. Usually numbers 3-11 are red flags for cancer.

My numbers were 2.4 and 2.6

This could mean these nodes are:

a) infected
b) reacting oddly from transplant, giving off a false positive PET scan
c) nothing at all

or

d) the beginning stages of my disease: cancer.

The thing is, we just don't know. I am incredibly humbled that people are worried, and are expressing their worries through asking even more questions. But the fact of the matter is, nothing is perfect, neither you, nor i, nor science. And, this PET scan is in a very gray area.

A lot of times in life, we want a beautiful happy ending. We want to wrap up things in a nice box, with a nice bow, and move on. Most, are lucky if life works this way. But for some, there can be quite a detour. I have been in a holding pattern for almost two years, fighting this disease and putting the rest of my life on hold. And this next month of waiting, doesn't really change that. I've been waiting. To move on.

But the world of limbo is not always a happy place. Caught inbetween, feeling healthy, the move, interviews, and wanting to move on to thinking of future tests, future treatments, possibly no treatment, and on borrowed time. There is no middle ground here, and the two options of cancer or no cancer are very extreme.

So, another scan will occur on August 21st. This scan will either show the nodes grew in size and 'hotness' or metabolic activity. Or, stay the same. Or, be gone. If they grow. It's cancer. If not, it sounds like I'll be cleared for another three months.

So, we wait. And in some ways, enjoy what we can. In every day. At least I attempt to.

Because, this could be absolutely nothing
or absolutely something.

for now, we just don't know...

All my love,

B

Today I miss: a world, when cancer was a word i hardly knew
Today I smile for: newly painted finger and toe nails



Today I am grateful for: Wullie Currie

Results

Inconclusive Results =

More scans, on August 21st.

So, we wait.

<3 B

Before the world has its way... a thank you, or two.

Before the results, come in tomorrow of weather or not this transplant was successful. I wanted to express my gratitude and thanks, to all of those who honestly put their heart and soul into me the last six months.

Treatment, and even this part of recovery has been somewhat surreal. I can't even quite put it into words, just that, I'm so very thankful, and still overwhelmed some days, that I'm here -- and walking around. When just a few months ago, I could hardly gather enough energy to sit up right in a hospital bed. The human body, and spirit are truly amazing. And I'm so thankful I had people in my life that felt MY life was worth their effort, through supporting me.

Realistically, there are tons and tons of people to thank. Between last years treatment and this, and a part of me hopes I get to write thank you notes to each and every one of you. But most likely, if you are reading this now -- you were a part of this process. YOU are why, I am still here, and smiling.

This will be somewhat geographical in order, if that makes sense:

First and foremost, my extended family. The Rosan's and the Furey's, my Uncle Jay and Aunt Bobbi, who led me in this direction of treatment, and the best care possible at Upenn, and also the emotional support and kick in the butt I needed to keep me going through the difficult patches of my treatments. And then, the Furey's -- on all ends, my grandparents for telling me I was beautiful, even on my roughest days, and visiting when they could. My Aunt Linda for supporting my mothers through this mess. And my cousins, for thinking of me.

The ones who financially, let me live: Sheila, Sarah, and Vicky (The Curley School, Lesley University, and Neptune Beach Elementary), These three women, and the collective institutions/schools I've worked/attended at, not only put together fundraisers for me, to pay for prescriptions, gas to and from Upenn, and other care, but sent an abundant amount of emotional support through cards, poetry, and their personal connections to make sure, I was still kickin ;) For these women, and the staff that work with them -- I thank you, so so much.

Those crazy kids in Boston: To the ones who packed me up, and unpacked me. The ones who listened to my morphined thoughts, who cheered me on when I cried, and who kicked my butt hard (Nik), when I wanted to give up. Nik, Kate, Josh, Lynn, Em, Am, Kare, Timbo, Man, Sarah, Brock. I could never even begin, to thank you all enough.

My forum Family: Good lord, without the knowledge of all of you. I would have been lost between the tests, treatment, and even recovery now. I believe I have followed the footsteps of the most incredible transplant warriors out there, between Sarah, Shannon, and Anne-Marie, to Wullie, D, Brian n Brian, Adrienne and Brandy. And the incredible daily support of Veronica, Jesse, Susan, Alison, Michelle, and so, so many others...You, my loves, have pushed me through. And shown me that I should be proud to be a survivor. That I AM proud, to be a survivor, among, all of you.

To be honest, this last group is a weird mix. Of people, who saved me at very crucial points of my treatment. To John, To Jen, To Sam, To Daphna, To Ham, and to Darrel. You have heard and seen my darkest days and thoughts, and yet, you still stood by me. On days, I thought I was broken, you each were there -- never caring what I looked like, or however beaten I sounded. You all, were there. Checking in, calling, emailing, doing whatever you could in your power to make sure I was still breathing. I will never, ever, be able to thank you enough. For your sensitivity to my needs, to just being able to listen. You six, have amazed me, and went above and beyond, the calls of friendship, and continue to do so.

And lastly, but most importantly, my beautiful family. For Jake and Aly, to be here for parts of their spring break, to care for the house and dogs -- while I was in the hospital. For my moms, my beautiful, beautiful mothers, who although drive me crazy most times ;) Gave up their jobs, their lives, their normalcy, to continue my life. For them forcing food down my throat, when, I refused, for them driving me to the ER, at the drop of a hat. For them, sleeping in reclining chairs for two straight weeks in the hospital, just to be near me. For them bugging nurses, doctors, and questioning everyone and everything, so I wouldn't have to worry about my care. For them, taking me in at twenty four, rearranging the house, the dogs, and their life. So I could have successful treatment. Without them and their strength, I assure you, I would not be here. And for that, I have never ever been more grateful to have anyone such as these women, in my life.

And lastly, to you -- if I have not mentioned your name. This blog, in many ways, has been an extended network. Your comments and love, shine through the screen to me. And on the days in which I felt most alone. You, were all there with me. Weather you sent a card, left a phone message, sent an email, ect. You were a part of this. And for that, I sincerely thank you.

Although cancer has been an incredibly heartbreaking and devastating time in my life. I have to state for the record, the outpour of support from those I have yet to meet face to face, or those who I haven't spoken to in years. Has truly been amazing. The kindness of strangers, coupled with my army of support of friends and family, truly lets me see the beauty within all of this pain. And for that, as well, I am grateful.

Heading into Upenn tomorrow,
which will determine if the transplant was successful.

Sending tons and tons of love,
to each and every one of you,

B

Reasons why I smile...

Sometimes, pictures are better than words.

My lovely scottish man, Wullie! Although we look old -- Wullie is only one year old and I am just about to hit three months (in transplant years!)

The last two weekends,
I've been able to lay in the sun,
on the beach with friends...it's been amazing.

Red sox... 'nough said :)

Fenway...

baseball and jane!

My partner in crime,
and the green monstah...

The girls!


College roomates..

My sweetest, loves.

and my other half... me and Jen!

These beautiful people are keeping me busy and smiling wide.
Hope all of YOU beautiful people are doing well.

Tons of Love,

B

Bittersweetness

I can't even begin to express my gratitude and appreciation, from the support you have all sent me through emails this week. It was, much, much needed. So, thank you.

After a week of getting settled, the move is finally done! There are still many boxes, things to be organized, and the apartment still isn't quite, 'bekah-fied' but it will get there. With time.

The last few days, I have realized a few things about myself. And although, this week has been somewhat of a painful process. From packing up my room in Doylestown, looking through the hundreds, literally, hundreds of 'get-well' cards, sorting through the lymphoma books I've collected the last two years... To, unpacking old pictures, lovely furniture, and a new life into my perfect one-bedroom apartment, in Boston. All in all, it has been an emotional process.

To say that the emotions after transplant, in addition to moving so soon after treatment are like a rollercoaster is certainly an understatement. In addition to this week being a huge moving week, I was able to spend time with two of my - favorite - people in the world, Wullie and Veronica. Wullie and Veronica have been two of the most supportive individuals, throughout my transplant. Sending me words of support, calling, telling me I was strong enough, through this entire process, sending pictures, and even as far as giving me my very own star, in the night sky. To see these two individuals face to face, was bittersweet, knowing the history that the three of us have traveled through in the transplant world. Once again, there is an unspoken bond between survivors, that I could never explain. But being in the presence of this amazingly stunning couple, made me feel understood. Made me feel, like bekah.

Anyway! You mesh all that together, plus some job interviews, catching up with tons of friends, and attempting to adjust as fast as possible to move, I will admit I have never wanted to cry and smile so much at the same time. I am so happy, yet so overwhelmed at the same time. But, I've realized over the last two years. That these emotions are not wrong, or inappropriate in any way. Before cancer, it was understood that nothing was worth crying about. That a smile is needed twenty-four-seven. That you block out your fears and anxiety.

But now, I've decided, that this, all of this, is reality. That seeing Wullie and Veronica (and John and Kelly!), moving, interviewing, putting one foot in front of the other, is something that tugs at my heart, in a painful and beautiful way. I once again, have the choice... I can either ignore my feelings and emotions, or work through them. And this time, I choose to work through them, embrace them, hold them, and be proud of them.

With all of these emotions flying around, I have also made another choice, to close this chapter of my life, and this blog. Although I will be working, and allowing myself to feel, recover, and find my new normal in Boston.. I truly hope some of the information provided from the following months of treatment will be helpful to another survivor, at some point.

In addition, I will update one or two more times, as my day 100 is quickly approaching, and the PET scan, along with it, to share the results with everyone. And hopefully, with that last PET scan, we will all be able to close this section of my life, together.

Sending tons of Love,

Bekah

5:30 am

It's 5:30 am, in Boston. I shouldn't be up. But I am.

There was a post, in the past, in which I spoke of emotional baggage. During this three day process of moving, a part of me wishes, I could leave behind a piece of my luggage.

fear.

Once again, things are slowly falling into place for the fall.

loving friends in boston: check
apartment i love: check
job openings: check
me smiling for the first time in a long, time: check.

But this piece of baggage, is something I just am unable to shake. No one understands the work, emotionally, physically, and psychologically it takes to get to this point again. Believe it or not, this will be my third attempt to start my life over after college. And it is no easy feat. Trust me, I enjoy these things. I enjoy the high of sending out resumes and getting call backs. I enjoy, moving into a gorgeous new apartment. I enjoy my friends getting excited for me, because my eyebrows and eyelashes are in full bloom :) I enjoy it. But along with that happiness, with that thing in me -- that is life. Comes the anxiety, fear, and knowledge that it call all be ripped away in a matter of seconds.

Because it can. it has.

I forced myself to write about this, this morning. For a number of reasons. One, to once again show that once treatment is 'over,' you as a patient and survivor are not necessarily 'done,' with it. Two, my responses, when I have voiced my concern have been, 'it's different this time bek,' or 'they're positive they got it all, don't worry about it.' And I need to get more out. And three, I'm scared. Plain and simple.

I receive the keys to my apartment in a few hours,and it really should be a joyous occasion. But, something inside, is nagging at me. Not the part of me last year that said, 'the cancer is still in you...' More or less a part of me that is saying 'don't get too excited, at least, not yet.' I guess those are the feelings that are consuming me. It always seems, once I arrive at a very happy place in my life, things are ripped away. And so, this time, I fear, once I arrive there again... the pattern, the cycle will repeat itself.

I'm sure this seems silly, and obvious to others. 'Why can't she just get over it?' But after an initial kidney disease diagnosis in college, leaving two homes, two classrooms, and two lives recently because of cancer.. it's hard to just turn my shoulder. It's hard to work through.

Trust that there is a large part of me that wants to break out into song and dance, over the things that are happening in my life. But for now, I guess, I feel I must restrain myself in some way. I'm just hoping, I'll be able to exhale... at some point, soon.


<3 B

Day +65, Moving Day!

My lovely check up on Tuesday:

Doctor Nasta: So, we're moving into the sixties. How are you feeling?
Bekah: wonderful, good.
Dr. Nasta: And you're no longer homeless, you found a place in Boston?
Bekah: Yep, all ready to go.
Dr. Nasta: When are you leaving again?
Bekah: This weekend.
Dr. Nasta: (big smile) Alright Ms Furey, looks like nothin' is gonna stop you.
Go get 'em.

(3 month PET scan: July 29th)

and away she goes...

b!

Honey suckles

I write, everyday; however, I don't usually share it. This blog is for updates through treatment and recovery. And now those are coming to a close, as I prepare to move. But thought, I'd share my writing with you, today.

---
innocence. 7:34 pm.

I almost forgot how sweet Doylestown smelled in the summertime. Since last summer was filled with different scents, this, being the first time in a while. I have time to smell the honey suckles. Which brings me back to summers here, when I was younger, when I was naive and pure and incredibly ignorant of what was outside of this bubble. That I call home.

Memories of graduations, memories of being on the back deck with old, old friends. It was nice to think, that heartache revolved around a crush on a boy. That real destruction of our identity stemmed from a rumor through the hallways. That a final goodbye... really did not have anything 'final' about it. But would instead, be a temporary farewell.

I missed the smell last summer, as I was too focused on old treatments and being angry at the world. I didn't take the time to think about how young, I was at one point. Or how young, we all were. At one point. The summer nights we'd lay in the fresh cut grass, thinking how invincible we were. Me, armed with a light blue dress and curls. You, with arrogance and assurance that in the end, it'll all be okay.

I've been in different states and cities, most of my summers. But none have the smell of Doylestown, and the honey suckles we used to pick off the elementary school fences, so long ago.

And I realized tonight, how, for so long. I've strived to be an adult. To be responsible. To grow up. To keep moving. And yet, here I am, wishing that somehow. I could still slip on that small, blue summer dress.

--
Today I am grateful for: old, old friends. who still put me in my place.
Today I smile for: black raspberry water ice and eyebrows!

Today I miss: being thirteen

- B

You're moving too fast, frames can't catch you when you're moving like that...

My two week trip to Boston turned into a permanent move. The game plan had been that I would stay in Doylestown, PA, the rest of the summer and move in September. However, if you know me, when I am NOT medicated...You know, very well, I am unable to stay in this town very long.

Unfortunately, for me, Dtown has been a place I come to when I become ill. So, mentally it is hard to stay here when I am recovering. My life, my education, my professional contacts, my friends, my heart, is in Boston.

So, with that being said. I signed a lease. And will begin to move in; hopefully, towards the end of next week.

A lot of people have voiced, that this move is too soon. I am two months shy from being out of transplant. So around day +60ish. And for most people who have experienced, are about to experience a stem cell transplant, or who have cared for someone undergoing this treatment -- you have a right to think this is abnormal, or insane, or too much. And if you are a SCT warrior, recoving from transplant -- I must stress...This is not normal.

I guess when it comes down to it, I pride myself on -- being unique, abnormal, walk to the beat of my own drummer kinda gal :) And in this instance, it is true again. A lot of friends and family have stressed that I need to relax, not rush back to life, ect. ect. And, though I take all of this advice and guidance to heart. And truly appreciate all of your kind words. I do know, what is best for me.

Part of me, during this recovery time feels the poetic irony. That I feel stronger, and want more in life, after each illness, each obstacle, each hardship. I want to fight and bounce back harder, than the last. I want more of myself, of my friends, of my future. The harder the experience, the more I want to prove to myself, that I can still achieve and accomplish more than I, even imagined.

And the wants in me, churns my passion, which stirs energy, which in turn creates a path and the drive to move back to Boston. To leave behind not only the third illness, but the second, and the first, and the memories that came with all of them. A lot of people have asked, 'Are you sure you want to go back? So soon? Are you ready?'

So am I?

I've even been told that I should take this third disease, this hit, as a sign. That maybe I should stay in my small hometown, find a job here, and settle.

For some, who experience transplant, this is a viable option. But, not for me. My world is in Boston, my future students are in Boston, my dearest friends are in Boston, my masters degree is in Boston. My life, that I've been patiently waiting for... is in Boston.

So while other's are saying, 'Bek, you're moving too fast.'

My response is -- Honey, I should be there, already.

So sit tight loves, I will be fine. And although, some of you feel this is too soon. Too much, too quick, too overwhelming. It's just right for me. And in the end, that's all that really matters.

Here's to a new future,
Here's to a new life.
L'chiam!

- B

Trough

There is a trough in waves,
a low spot
where horizon disappears
and only sky
and water
are our company.

And there we lose our way
unless
we rest, knowing the wave will bring us
to its crest again.

There we may drown
if we let fear
hold us within its grip and shake us
side to side
and leave us flailing, torn, disoriented.

But if we rest there
in the trough
in silence,
being with
the low part of the wave,
keeping our energy and
noticing the shape of things
the flow,
then time alone
will bring us to another
place
where we can see
horizon, see the land again,
regain our sense
of where
we are,

and where we need to swim.

- Judy Brown


Packing. Organizing. Moving.
Residing in Boston, for good, July 1st.

<3 B

I think I'll go to Boston..

Cancer Warrior Updates:

Before I begin rambling about myself. There are a few individuals I wanted to call attention upon. Some cancer warriors, to be proud of and send wonderful thoughts to.

My love, Michelle -- had her nine month post scan a few weeks ago. After undergoing eight months of chemo last year, she is still clean, more beautiful than ever, and just completed her first year of grad school!

My PA sweetheart Scott -- is undergoing an allo transplant this week. He received his cells last Friday, and is knocking down this treatment, one day at a time and doing an a=mazing job.

My SCT sista Darcy -- God love this woman, she's moved from Mexico to the US, to not only have one dose of chemo, but go through a stem cell transplant, like myself. Her re-birthday will be this weekend or early next week!

my sweet Darrel ;) -- who not only had clean scans on his one year mark of transplant, but just completed his first year of grad school, and a huge recital, all within the last few weeks. Have never been more proud of a friend in my life.

And, last but certainly not least, Wullie and his sidekick Veronica -- just received his one year post transplant scans, and his scans were completely clean as well. Who knew one year olds could be so cute?

I always feel so honored, to know I am in the company of these wonderful warriors. And, I definitely, don't say that enough.
------

So I think I'll go to ...Boston

After passing day +30, last week. I finally feel as though my energy level has skyrocketed into another dimension. And it's wonderful. So what else is there to do, when you have energy?

LIVE and go to the best city in the world...

I packed my bags last week, and drove the six hour hike up to Boston. To see all my beautiful friends and some past coworkers. A three day trip, has turned into seven days, the weather has been absolutely gorgeous. I've been filling up my days, with looking at apartments, soaking in the city in my old stomping grounds, and nights with the loveliest people in the world. And once again, I've fallen in love with this incredible city. Plus the celtics are about to beat the lakers for the championship -- what better time to be in Boston?

LOTS of things are still up in the air for the fall. Except, knowing that I'll be back here. Probably sooner, than most think. At this point, I'm halfway through my masters degree in Literacy (for Elementary Education) at Lesley University... which I'd love to finish within the next year. I am qualified for some part time positions in Boston School District (if I decide to continue on with disability), and am beginning to pursue full time teaching jobs in the district as well.

I have faith, that things will fall into place. And if they don't -- I'll make them :) I'll make it all work. Somehow. Emotionally, Physically, and even Financially. I'll make it work. For now though, I am incredibly happy that I have these issues to worry about instead of transplant, cancer, pills, chemo, and the world, I'm leaving behind for the second and hopefully last time.

Seems the clouds have finally parted, kids.
The sun is definitely here.

Bekah's back :)

<3 B

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