ENGRAFTMENT!

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" alarm as we went through security.  And as always, the bored security guard began searching all of our bags and purses and etc.  Even though we look pretty safe and they see us multiple times per day.  We are the ones that greet them sarcastically and have flames on the sides of our wheelchair.  By now they gotta know we aren't a threat.

Anyway, the security dude asked to see inside Hanna's purse.  That's when I quipped, while pointing at the bag of shame, "you really ought to check that bag out.  24 hours of urine.  That's gotta be a toxic hazard!"

The poor guy didn't even know what to do with me.  He just waved us on through without searching the bags.  His compadre was laughing so hard, he almost needed a two-gallon pee jug himself.

Smiles and laughter for all.

Yesterday we heard those precious words "Your stem cells have engrafted successfully.  We are going to prepare you to travel home."  Hanna's blood tests are mostly in the normal ranges.  Her Stem Cells that were transplanted obviously love being back at home in her bones and are working hard.  Hanna has a bit more energy.  A bit more appetite too, but still not much.  (Still consuming mostly protein smoothies).  And the rest of her digestive system, including mouth sores, is mostly healed up.

Today, after the usual daily blood draw and tests, we attended a class with three other transplant couples about how to take care of yourself after you leave Mayo.  For 100 days, Hanna will be very immunocompromised.  The nurse went over what medications Hanna should continue to take (Penicillin for a full year is one of them), went over what needs to be kept clean in our home, how to deal with pets, plants, dust, fireplace smoke, hot tubs, guests, group meetings like church, etc.  How to manage around groups of people (like at an airport or store).  And what activities Hanna can start doing.  

Interestingly, most of the class was on how important it is to continue living your life, but how to do so safely.  For example, with hunting season coming up and two male MM patients in the room, she taught us that it is OK to go hunting, as long as we don't go alone and someone else guts the kill.  Fun stuff.

Tomorrow we meet with a Transplant Nurse who will go over similar things with us, but more specific to Hanna's conditions and needs.

Thursday, Hanna will have her final blood draws and tests, and then we'll have our final (for now) meeting with Dr. Gertz where he will give us specific instructions on what is next when we get home, and will transfer the care to our local cancer doctor in Post Falls.  He will also officially approve us to leave.  We will be back at the 100-day mark to have a full check-up including bone marrow biopsy to see how things are going.  At the six-month mark, Hanna will begin receiving her childhood immunizations again, one at a time, and those will continue until the one-year mark.

Friday, Hanna has a long procedure to take in some strong antibiotics via Nebulizer (via the lungs).  She will also that day be given shots of Evusheld, a medicine to help prevent COVID, as well as both of us getting flu shots.

On Saturday, we are planning on driving to Minneapolis to trade in our rental car for a rental cargo van. 

Sunday will be a rest day.  Monday a pack and load day.  And Tuesday....WE LEAVE FOR HOME!!!

We plan to pull into our driveway on the 29th.

Hanna will be immunocompromised severely for those 100 days.  We will need to use extreme caution to not get her exposed to anything.  She will have no immunity to any disease; starting from scratch like an infant.  We will likely limit visitors to close family only.  The visits will need to be short and in small groups.  All visitors will need to be COVID-vaccinated and not have any symptoms of anything.  (Yes, we know that has become a political issue.  Let's make it about Hanna's health and what her specific doctor has recommended, not politics.)  One nurse told us we should have all visitors mask up.  We're still deciding on that one.  Hanna and I both may be masked up for visitors.  (I absolutely hate masks.  But I gotta do what I gotta do to keep her healthy.  If I get sick, I won't be able to be around her.  That would be sad.)

Our next phase, once home, will be to work on the neuropathy and get her walking strong again.  

This has been a tough, but very successful, couple of months here at the Mayo Clinic that included countless miracles, and yes, even some fun.  (In addition to entertaining other patients and terrorizing the security team, we found the best Ice Cream Shop in the entire world!)

We both thank you for your prayers, support, cards, flowers, gifts, service and all that.  It meant a ton, made a huge difference, and always seemed to come at the most struggling times to make us feel better.  THANK YOU!!!

I'm thinking we'll send out one more blog post from here, just before we leave perhaps, so you'll all know things are on track.  And then updates any time something worthy of a blog post happens.

Today's Miracle:  We both wear maroon wrist bands that say "No one fights alone!".  Maroon is the color of MM.  A couple of days ago, Hanna noticed her wrist band was missing.  It really bugged her.  She about tore the house apart looking for it.  Finally, this morning she prayed that it would show up.  And then once out in the car, she looked down, and there it was, on the floor of the car.  Simple prayers.  Simple answers.  Miracles.

Hanna's Two-Bits:

I may have Multiple Myeloma, but Multiple Myeloma doesn't have me!

I refuse to give my life's quality to a disease, and intend to live my life as fully as possible from now until the end.