January 21, 2002: SBS; The “R” Word

Greetings.

I confess that I'm sitting a little gingerly as I type this note to you. I have SBS (sore backside syndrome). You see, I spent the better part of two lunch hours today on my face while Dr. Lugor, my transplant-supervisor/Oncologist burrowed deep into the left side of my pelvis for core samples of bone marrow. Yep, that's right, it was bone marrow biopsy day. The only problem was that after several attempts on the left side she kept coming back empty. Sigh. So, another quick shot of local anesthesia and in they went on the right side. This time, thank God, she got what she needed--and the sample is now safely in the labs at the Univ. of Pennsylvania being treated with Ivy League care. We should have the results by Wednesday or Thursday of this week. And in the meantime, I shuffle carefully in my seat.

After being treated like the Texas countryside, Dr. Lugor turned me around and we talked a while about the remarkable journey we've been on over the last nearly 10 months. I got right to the point and asked point blank: if the bone marrow biopsy results are consistent with all the tests we did last week (and there's no reason to think it won't be, she interupted), what does that mean?

Dr. Lugor is engaging, pretty and likes short, declarative sentences. She looked up from my chart and said simply: "Then you're in remission. I'll see you in three months."

So there you have it. (You may insert shouts of joy and thanksgiving here on my behalf. Use whatever language or slang you are comfortable with. Weeping and laughter are equally acceptable, and, if you're like me, a tad more eloquent than any of the words you can remember anyway.)

The only bad news today is that my sister Susan, who while visiting in December had the Ivy League nurses take her blood, is not a match should, down the road, I need a bone marrow transplant. But, as the doctor said, that fact may be moot anyway, in light of the good news about the "r" word.

I'll let you all know when the results are official, but in the meantime you can join me in thanksgiving. You can also be sure that I'll continue to harangue you about the least, the last and the lost, even as I begin to prepare to get my life back together. And, if I can figure it out, I may even pop by and say hello to you face to face--especially if you live somewhere warm where I can go for long walks in nicely trimmed grass and swing my arms at a little ball in exercise. For now though I'm at home, taking care of Sheri (who has a cold). After the last year, I'd say that's only right.

Seriously, we love you. Thanks.

Dwight

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