Hurry Up and Wait

Hey, I've got nothin' but time, so I can't complain.  I'll concede, however, to being disappointed when we were told today that I can't be admitted to the hospital to start the process--which, by the way, is a BIG FAT GO--until next week because there were so many "closings" recently (sounds like real estate instead of medicine) and the BMT Unit is full.  I guess I'm first on the list and will be called when an opening occurs.  Now Rob can either get his growth factor shots and  donate his cells according to the original timetable (his stem cells can be frozen until I need them, although that isn't the U's usual protocol -- I was assured that, although some frozen cells will likely die in the thawing process, previously frozen cells are just as viable as "fresh" cells) or he can stay in MN longer in order to donate the cells at the same time I need them.  Rob's got plenty of time coming to him at work, but I hate to see him have to hang around when they say frozen will do.  Plus he and his wife have a dog who's staying with a friend and they didn't want to be away from her too long.  We'll get it all sorted out.  At first I was a little upset about this new turn of events, but in mulling it over, I realized it's no biggie.  In my lifetime, I've been someone who gets my panties in a knot over the small stuff, but am not too fazed by ginormous challenges.  Go figure!  I'm learning.

So...looks like next week sometime will be when it starts for me.  My job is to stay healthy until then.  I'm going to continue to stay at the Hope Lodge, instead of going home, because the environment is really so controlled, and if I did pick up something, I'd like to be cared for at the U.

I wish I had brought my sewing machine with me.  I probably could be halfway through a quilt by now.  Wah, wah, wah!

Now I probably have time to commit a crime, say bank robbery, because after the transplant I can pin it on Rob.  I find it fascinating that I will have his DNA afterwards.  We've made many jokes about that, naturally--one can never tire of those sibling jokes at one sibling's expense.

Speaking of my baby brother the Bank Robber, here's a photo of him with me and my younger sister, Betsy, taken last week at the Lodge.

Also, here are some photos taken at the Ruddy gathering last week, courtesy of Betsy's husband, Pete.

Me and my quasi-twin brother, Tom. 
If Rob will agree to shave his head, then Tom, Rob and I can be quasi-triplets!

Tom and I do have a connection besides bald heads and ample flesh.  He's had my right kidney since 1996.  I was a perfect match for him.  I found out today that since Rob was a perfect match for me, Rob and Tom would be perfect matches to each other as well.  It's a little Ruddy syllogism.  Well, isn't that special!

Here's my other brother, John, trying out my wig.  Some of us were reminded of Robin Williams (only not quite as hilarious).

                                     

Missing was my older sister, Ann, who would have loved to be here with her brothers and sisters.

We missed you, Ann Rae!


Love to all of you.  I'll keep you posted.

Hi, I'm jacking this site.

Hey folks.  Rebekah here.  I've hi-jacked my mom's blog (with her blessing) to say a few words. 

I. love. my. mom.

There.  I said it.  The few words that mean so much to me.

I've had the pleasure of being able to spend some time with my mom over the past week.  I've missed that.  She's my rock and a dear friend.  Whenever we get together, laughter abounds.  I used to spend a lot of time with her.  But over the years, my own family obligations (and then her health) made it more difficult.  It's not like we live that far apart (Mankato to Apple Valley is quite a do-able distance), but life just gets in the way.  I would get oh-so-jealous when I'd hear about my sister's pop-in visits with Mom and Dad.  So I feel a little special that they are now in my backyard and that I got to spend this time with her before she becomes unavailable.  And I'm glad my kids got to come along on those visits so they could spend some quality time with Grandma and make those memories.

As mom mentioned in her previous post, one of our outings involved me taking pictures of her.  She looks fabulous - with hair and without.  Cora, my oldest, sure gets a kick out of Grandma's bald head.  It makes her laugh a big hearty belly laugh every time.  Ruby's not so sure about it (she's told Grandma on more than one occasion to put her head back on), but she loves the hats Grandma has.

Anyway, I wanted to share some of the photos with you all.   Enjoy!

Love, Rebekah

The Lodge

Our vacation at the Lodge is fabulous.  Wish you were here!
No kidding, that's a bit how it feels at the Hope Lodge.  This  morning I went down to the community lunchroom expecting to have my usual bowl of cereal, but instead discovered that a Relay for Life team was serving breakfast.  Lots of fruit, baked egg dishes, bagels, oj, and coffee.  On two nights this past week, church groups served us supper.  A shuttle bus takes to and from all of our appointments.  There are lounges with TVs, an exercise room (which I've used), free laundry facilities.  All of this is at no charge to the guest (me) and caregiver.  It blows me away!

The rooms are small, but adequate.  It's quiet on the floor, so sleep comes easy, usually.  

The past week, I've had every test one might imagine: blood panel, urine analysis (sidebar:  I needed to provide a 24 hour catch and the nurse gave John the job of carrying my jug around, denoting him my Pee Sherpa--he did  it well); heart scan, EKG, CT scan, chest X-ray, bone marrow biopsy.

My donor, brother Rob, had his work up on Thursday, which took a lot longer than anticipated because he ran into what we are at this point classifying as a minor glitch.  His platelet count was a tiny bit below the normal range.  After reaching a couple of his doctors in Anchorage to find out what previous blood tests revealed, the doc at the U thought he should have a bone marrow biopsy just to rule out any potential whatevers.  It doesn't seem to be too problematic--his other tests showed a lower count, but within the normal range.

My EKG showed an abnormality, so I consulted with a cardiologist yesterday who didn't seem too concerned, but scheduled a stress test for me on Monday just to be on the safe side.  It will be a recumbent bike stress test.

Tuesday is the day I find out from my team leader, Dr. Vercillotti, whether or not the transplant is a go.  If not, then I'm sure we'll discuss options.  If it is, then I'll be admitted to the hospital on Wednesday or Thursday where I'll be fitted for another "line" which will be inserted into my carotid artery.  My port won't be used as much.  Chemo, as well as a myriad of other meds, will begin shortly thereafter.  Whole body radiation will be administered next.  In the meantime, Rob will receive injections of neupogen to stimulate cell growth.  When that's done, we're ready to roll.  They extract blood from Rob, spin it in an apheresis machine to extract the stem cells, and then return the blood, minus the stem cells, back to Rob.  They collect about a "half can of Coke" of the cells which is infused into me. The infusion takes about an hour.  We're not exactly sure when that will happen, if it does, but that day would be another birthday for me to celebrate.  I'm kind of hoping for the 26th because that's my dad's birthday, but any day would be welcome!

Rob and his wife, Judy, arrived on Wednesday.  They are also staying at the Lodge.  My sister, Betsy, and her husband, Pete, flew in from Arlington, VA, on Wednesday as well.  We all went to a Mediterranean restaurant that evening.  The next day we all met up with my brother, Tom, and my other brother, John, and his wife, Marilyn, as well as my son, Chris, my daughter, Rebekah and her family.  We had lunch at The Tea House, close to the Lodge.  It was great fun.  Of course, we missed other family members.  My sister, Ann, would have enjoyed the gathering immensely.  And my daughter, Megan, and her family would also have liked to be with us.  I hope to post some photos soon of others trying on my wig and a few of my big bro Tom, bald like me, looking very much like my twin.

Today, Bekah's going to pick me up for a photo shoot at the Walker.  I had told her I needed a decent one for the paper, if you get my drift.  I think she knows how to make it look like me, but better.  Like, maybe she can cut down on the neck size for crying out loud?

John D. went to Mankato to retrieve a few things and to check on the house.  He'll come back tomorrow.  Rob and Judy went to the Twins game with John R. and Marilyn.  I'm home alone!  Who wants to party?


I started a Caringbridge site, but won't do anything with it until we get the go-ahead.  I'll continue to use this blog for updates.


I love you.


Kathy
 

The Stages of Being Kathy Dorn

The Seven Ages of Man

From As You Like It                                         A Few Stages of 
                                                                               Being Kathy Dorn

By William Shakespeare

Age 1

Third Grade

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then, the whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the  pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws, and modern instances,                         
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide,
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Engagement Photo, 1965

Maryetta and Kathy, Junior High

Kathy Birk and Cora Birk, 2010

Mr. and Mrs. Dorn, 1966

I tried to put these photos in order, but it was taking too long and I need to finish packing for my extended vacation at the U.  I think you can get my drift.


John reminded me of this passage from Shakespeare's play, As You Like It.  I think it is apropos of the human condition., but of course the first lines are brilliant.  We are merely players.
So, might as well play well.

I will try to add to this blog this week, but if you don't hear from me or one of my surrogates, this act of this play is going well.

The Caringbridge site has not been established yet. When it is, we'll forward the information.


I love you, cherish you, and look forward to spending time with you during the next act.


The address of the place where we are staying:

Hope Lodge

2500 University Ave. SE

Minneapolis, MN 55414

612.379.6352

cancer.org/hopelodgeminneapolis

One note about the Hope Lodge: they will not accept floral or plant deliveries. Neither will the hospital. If you were thinking of sending some, don't bother. Save your money, or send some to yourself and enjoy them in my honor. 

50th Class Reunion, 2011

Happy to Be Me, 2008

Sans Hair, April 4, 2012

Maryetta and Kathy, April 4, 2012

Showing Solidarity

Wigged Out, April 4, 2012

     Happy Easter!

'Twas Easter-Sunday. The full-blossomed trees
Filled all the air with fragrance and with joy.
                   ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

Aloha!

I love the Hawaiian greeting because it means both hello and good-bye.  The time is drawing near for me to close up shop here in the blogosphere.  By April 16, we should be pretty well set up on Caringbridge.  We'll keep you posted as  best we can.

This is the week for head shaving.  Last week I cut my hair (maybe chopped is a more precise verb) so my wig actually fits and feels better.  If I feel brave, I might even photograph myself sporting the Mr. Clean look.  It should be a real side-splitter.

My blood counts were low today, so tomorrow I will have a transfusion.  This should be my last one before we head to the U.  It will give me an opportunity to say good-bye to the wonderful nurses at Camp Dracula.  This morning I was able to say farewell to the caregivers (and a few patients who have become friends) in Chemo Bay.  Heartfelt hugs were handed out with little concern about white counts.  We promised to stay in touch.

I feel so fortunate that Spring came early this year and I was able to witness the rebirth of the natural world.  I'm going to take it as an omen.

Aloha until we meet again.

Love,
Kathy

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

I've always thought I was a little empty headed on occasion, but really, this is ridiculous!

Befor

I've had my wig for about a week now. It's not “Kathleen,” my catalogue pick, but rather a nameless creation in the Raquel Welch line. Somehow it doesn't look the same on me as it does on Raquel, but it'll do. I haven't shaved my head yet in anticipation of the transplant, but I think I should do it soon because I think the wig will fit a little better and I won't have to worry about stray strands of my own hair peeking out here and there.

After

My daughters came with me to the fitting. They promised they would tell me if the wig wasn't right for me and assured me they thought it looked “real.” While I was finishing up the transaction, the girls tried on wigs fast and furiously. Why is it that wigs and hats can turn a serious day into one of hilarity if you just let it. The giggles and guffaws emanating from the fitting room were priceless; the wig, not so much.

BIG NEWS

The transplant has been scheduled.

I have known for quite some time, but kept quiet about it while I made sure all my medical ducks were in a row. They are and so here's what the quacking's all about:

April 8            Check into the Hope Lodge Transplant House, Minneapolis

April 9-13       Complete physical work-up for me during the week

April 13          My brother Rob's work-up

April 16-20      Mega doses of chemo and radiation for me; growth factor injections for Rob

April 23          Not sure exactly when, but this is the week for the actual transplant. Basically, Rob will give his blood (as in a Red Cross donation) which will be spun to collect the stem cells. The stem cells will then be transfused into me. This process takes place over a two day period.

When the transplant is completed, I start a new life. That day is labeled Day Zero. The goal is to get to Day 100 with as few complications as possible.

I can't deny it – it's a scary proposition. I have read and heard about all of the possible scenarios, some worse than others, but I try to stay focused on being positive and looking for silver linings. I keep saying there's no reason why I can't be one of the lucky ones.

These last couple of weeks, I put myself in quarantine, not wanting to pick up an infection at this stage of the game. Of course, I've had to go out for medical appointments and have seen some adult members of my family plus a few friends. Sadly, no grandkids, though. I suppose one might call it self-deportation, to borrow a phrase from Governor Romney.

The next two weeks will be busy. John and I have lists of things to do before we pack our bags. For me, that includes buying new underwear. I am desperate for new underwear! For John, that includes everything else. He really does carry most of the weight around here. I've said it before – he's my rock (and roll).

I look forward to seeing my brother Rob. I am so grateful that he is my donor. We haven't spoken much on the telephone since this all transpired – John and Judy (Rob's wonderful wife) have done most of the communicating, so I imagine our face-to-face meeting will be quite emotional, at least for me.

I will try to write a few more times before April 16, but after the transplant we'll be switching to Caringbridge where John or my children will keep interested folks updated on my progress.

Bless you for keeping me in your thoughts and prayers.

Serenity

It's a wonderful day.  My friend Maryetta paid me a visit.  Although we had talked regularly on the phone, we realized we hadn't seen each other in at least two months, perhaps longer.  It's snowing lightly, giving the drab landscape a bit of a make-over.  I have the whole rest of the day to work on my sewing projects.  Chili and cornbread is already made for tonight's supper (actually they're leftovers from last night's supper--I expect the chili to be even better tonight!).  I'm at peace.

I recently received a heart-warming email from a dear fiend who also happens to be a former student.  In one of my earlier blog entries, I mentioned that I wanted to tell you about a remarkable person in my life.  I never got around to doing it, but now seems like the right time.

I first met Susie when she was transferred to my 7th grade reading class from a regular English class.  She captured my attention from the beginning.  First, she didn't seem at all unhappy about the transfer, unlike most of the others who viewed the placement as punishment.  Second, she wasn't afraid to engage and express thoughts and ideas with little concern about what the others might think.  It was clear she had already learned enough from the school of hard knocks to know that being true to yourself was more valuable than worrying about how you might fit in.  I came to admire her spunk.

School wasn't easy for Susie.  She was smart enough, but there were distractions.  By the time the school year ended, she was invited to attend summer school so she could pass to the next grade.  The invitation was accepted.

By this time, I had decided I would like to be her mentor, help her get through summer school, and just be an adult friend to her.  We agreed (parental permission was granted) that I would pick her up from school a couple of times a week for tutoring.  That's what we called it, tutoring, but it was more like hanging out.  Yes, we spent some time doing schoolwork, but more time just being friends.  We had lunch (often), we talked about Important Stuff, we shared story ideas (her mind was full of wonderful stories just waiting to be written down), we acted silly (one day the lesson took place at a county park with a swimming beach and before it was time to leave we dared each other to jump in the lake clothes and all--we did and we thought we were hilarious).  She became like a daughter to me and was quickly assimilated into the family.  We all loved Susie.  For years I referred to her as my little friend.  She just had a birthday and is now in her mid-twenties so I guess I can now refer to her as my friend, my dear friend.

There are so many things that have endeared Susie to me over the years other than being the one student who didn't think my class sucked.  Among them are her easy laugh, her vivid imagination, and her proclivity to all things artistic.  One memory I have of her that makes me smile every time I think of it is the day I picked her up in the school office for one of our tutoring sessions.  She was waiting for me as usual, except for one unusual difference: Susie was wearing a glove on one hand.  Curious, I looked more closely at the lacy item and saw that it wasn't a glove at all, but a representation of a glove.  Susie had spent the previous morning and this particular morning drawing an exquisite rendering of a glove on her hand.  I was blown away by its intricacy.  After asking her to explain how in the world she was able to get away with this in class (she wasn't sure), I was compelled to show her masterpiece to the school secretary who was duly impressed.  We then stopped at my house so I could show it to my family members.  In retrospect, I can see that this was just another instance of my nurturing the arts above other pursuits.  But, you should have seen it!

Eventually, the ink wore off and I never saw her sporting another glove.  Summer school ended; she switched to an alternative school and eventually moved to Texas to be with her mother while she finished high school.  We corresponded irregularly, but continued to make the effort to remain friends.  When she moved back to Mankato we resumed the friendship although by this time she had work and a boyfriend to keep her busy.

Now our get-togethers involve not just Susie, but also Nate.  She always expressed a desire to go to college and major in theater (she did actually write a play which was performed at her high school in Texas--she gave me a copy of it and it's wonderful), but times are tough.  I'm hoping that someday she'll be able to fulfill that dream if she still wants to.  In the meantime, she's involved with community theater and doing some writing.  She will always hold a special place in my heart.

In her email to me, she sent along this poem she wrote in response to my butterfly poem...

Untitled

By Susie

A butterfly can't fly
if you do the work for him.
It has to go through some struggles
if it wants to feel the wind.
 

In this world there is trouble,
there is joy and there is pain.

You can't appreciate the sunshine
if you don't walk through the rain.
 

I know you want to help him
but my dear you must refrain
'cause a butterfly can't fly
unless it struggles for its wings.