Hanna's Grand Adventure (aka How Hanna Beat Cancer)

Saying "good bye" to the Mayo Clinic and ready to head for home tomorrow.  No appointments over the weekend gave us a chance to rest and things actually seemed to be getting back to normal.   As usual, have a few pictures of what we have done the past few days: Hanna's last blood draw!  All numbers were in the normal area.  The Stem Cells are thriving.  Everything is on track. Only our Scouting/Wood Badge friends will truly understand the significance of the next two pictures, taken in Dr. Gertz's own waiting room: There were a bunch of creatures like these hanging on the wall, but only these two critters.  And they happened to be "ours".  We couldn't help but take a couple of pictures! The Medical Staff allowed me to stay in the Procedure Room to witness the removal of Hanna's port.  They warned me that there may be blood and I could faint.  I reassured them that if I did faint, I was in a hospital that has some of the best care in the world...

A picture of Hanna, modeling one of her many hats.  And SMILING!  We somehow manage to meet our challenges with humor and smiles.  That appears to be mostly my job.  But it ain't hard to make Hanna smile. One of the more embarrassing tests transplant patients (and their caretakers) have to deal with is the 24-hour urine test.  They give you a huge two-gallon bright red jug to pee in for 24 hours.  You take it home with you and then bring it back full the next day.  They try to hide it in a white shopping bag.  But there is no hiding the bright red jug.  We have taken to calling it the bag of shame.  Many other patients have burst into laughter as we called it that while they carried theirs past us down the Mayo hallways. Monday we were bringing the bag of shame back to Unit 9-4 for testing.  (Someone actually goes to school to learn how to test urine.  Amazing!!)  As always, our wheelchair set off the "they may have a gun"...

Here is Hanna with her cancer fox.  Every cancer survivor must have a cancer fox.  I had one.  It makes a huge difference.  (Both were provided by very good friends and supporters of ours that pray a lot.)  We are so thankful for them, their faith, and the foxes they gave us. This is just a short blog to keep you all updated.  After dramatic blogs about hair loss, explosive toxic diarrhea, and vehicular vomit episodes, we wanted you to know that things are getting better and are on the up and up.  The awesome new stem cells are working hard and Hanna's body is recovering well. Hanna is feeling better, which is one of the three requirements for getting approval to travel home.  Yesterday she consumed bacon and steak.  Her appetite is coming back.  She only had the one episode of vomit and hasn't had diarrhea in several days.  She still has a couple of nasty mouth sores that keep her from getting too excited about eating.  But sh...

 The hair loss was expected and was eventually going to happen.  Happy Early Halloween!! THE GOOD:  This week the Transplant Team here at Mayo Clinic is celebrating their 10,000th transplant.  They were pretty excited.  Amazing to us was the fact that their very first Transplant patient from 60 years ago is still alive and was going to attend the party.  Note that none of us current patients, even the 10,000th, are invited.  Every one of us is immunocompromised and if someone brought in an infection or virus, the entire staff would be very busy for a long time.  But we can say we were there when number 10,000 took place.  We are in very good hands.  The average employee tenure here is 14 years.  Many we meet have been here for over 20 years.  Most of the doctors did their initial fellowship here and are still here decades later.  Having the right specialist, a doctor that does nothing but MM, is key to a proper recovery an...

Here is the lovely Miss Hanna at about 1am this morning, trying to figure out what sort of dinner her system will handle.  The softer the better.  Taste doesn't matter any more as her taste buds have been eliminated by the Chemotherapy Drug. Until today, our daily routine was, check in at the Transplant Clinic.  Get examined and consulted by a variety of medical professionals.  Go back home.  And usually that was it.  If something were to be wrong with the blood tests, etc., they would call and have us come back in for treatment. The closest we ever came to the "call back in" was a week ago Sunday when her Potassium levels had dropped drastically, likely caused by the extreme hydration during the transplant itself.  They had us come back to the Clinic to pick up some Potassium tablets at the Pharmacy. That all changed yesterday. They called and asked us to come back in as her platelets had dropped drastically.  The nurse told us to finish our lunc...

Hanna is doing well and appears to be on track to a miraculous recovery.  In this picture, please notice her beautiful hair. The cool chart below (cool, because us accountants LOVE charts like this) shows the level of misery the transplant causes and when.  The numbers are days.  The more the line drops, the more misery.  They call the bottom the "basement".  We are right now on Day 8.  Yes, in the basement. And even though we are in the basement, Hanna is doing quite well.  Things are not nearly as bad as other MM patients that have gone before us have said they would be, nor as bad as the Transplant Team prepared us for.  This is all good.  The main symptoms Hanna (and me too, indirectly) have and are struggling with is massive fatigue and EXPLOSIVE TOXIC DIARRHEA.  She spends a lot of time sleeping, although some days are better than others.  Her endurance level has dropped significantly as well.  It is a struggle for her to...

Yes, the transplant went smooth.  The nurses even gave us this cool certificate!   NOTICE TO ALL GRANDKIDS!!!!  Grandma Hanna hereby challenges each and every one of you to a popsicle eating contest!  Mind you, she ate SIX popsicles during Chemotherapy Treatment and now she believes that she can't be beat!  Next time we see you........POPSICLES!!  GAME ON!! Day 0 via Pictures: 5:30 am we were greeted by our nurse and this cool message.  It's been six months since diagnosis and mention of a Stem Cell Transplant.  We are finally ready. The lab tech in white gloves and white coat brought Hanna's Stem Cells to our room in a cooler (that is the box to his left with the purple top).  When he opened it, steam from the dry ice came flurrying out.  For a moment, I thought we were going to get some delicious homemade Root Beer.  But no, I was wrong on that.  It was the Stem Cells.  Here, in this picture, he is carefully thawing them...