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"Dreams don't come true. 
Dreams die. 
Dreams get compromised. 
Dreams end up dealing meth in a booth at the back of the Olive Garden. 
Dreams choke to death on bay leaves. 
Dreams get spleen cancer." 
(Douglas Coupland: the Gum Thief)


Just, ugh. 


I'm so afraid to post anything what the doctors have planned out for me, in case I  jinx it again. 

Lifeline

In these last couple of hours I think I've shed enough tears to solve the drought problem in Southern Spain. Needless to say, this stuff, Mozobil, hasn't worked out as well as they wanted. They're willing to give it one last shot tonight, but yeah, chances are slim that I'll produce enough stem cells for them to collect tomorrow. I just have to face the fact that my bone marrow hates me.

Here I am, stuck in my hospital room, these tubes installed in my neck. They were meant for the stem cell procedure, my vital lifeline. Hoping for miracles, because miracles don't exist, and I've tried everything else that does.

Mozobil

Ok. I'm still at the hospital, waiting for my stem cells to mobilize, which they haven't, for your information. Today they're going to try with a drug called Mozobil to see if it can do the trick.

Mental check. Never make plans with cancer. This is so fucking disappointing that I might as well just crawl under the sheets and die.

Percentages

So, I've been thinking a lot about this 50% survival rate the doctors keep emphasizing on. Like, where will I fall or what does that even mean? My mind is racing with near misses, hopeful wishes, scales weighing and placing me either up or down, glasses half filled or half empty.

Either way, I should know better. Never trust statistics. What happens to me, will happen to me hundred percent of the time. No one can predict that.

Woohoo -

-hoooo! What a fall, what a dash into dark into light, what a plunge ,what a glide, what a fright!

So, who knew that Cyclophosphamide is mustard acid. Jeez. What a trip, what a time, what a life.

I'm at home now, recovering. You wouldn't believe the dreams I've been having these days.

Moving on. I said I'd post my timetable for the following months. Here it is!

16TH JULY

Blood tests and possible blood transfusions


17TH JULY

1.Surgical procedure (Hickmann-line put into my chest)
2.Beginning of the stem cell harvest. They're collecting my own stem cells via bloodstream. This can take up to a week before they have the sufficient amount.

9TH AUGUST

Stem Cell Transplant:

1. BEAM chemotherapy for 5 days. This destroys my bone marrow, as in, leaving me without immunity.  
2. Returning back my stem cells. This is called day 0 or rebirth.
3. Waiting for my own stem cells to find their way in my body. The engraftment usually takes about 10 to 15 days.
4. And that's it! I'm done! Adios, fuck you cancer! Hope you stay out of my life!

Cyclophosphamide

I have good news to tell you. The PET scan came back negative! I've got a NED as in No Evidence of Disease. I am therefore in remission now and utterly thankful to ICE for doing such a wonderful job at eradicating my Hodgkin's cells.

This is far from over though.

Since my disease seems to be of the sneaky kind and likes to mutate and make itself resistant to chemotherapy, there is a huge risk that it'll come back if they don't perform the stem cell transplant (SCT). I am hence back in hospital, getting treatment again. This time around Cyclophosphamide is going to kick my butt and at the same time mobilize my stem cells.

Instead of explaining in detail the long-winded process of what the SCT entails, I'll be posting a rough-sketched timetable soon. All in all, my doctors are talking about a two-month process. I can deal with that. I'm willing to sacrifice this summer. This is my best shot at getting well.