Thank You Friends

Dear brothers, sisters friends and family:

 I want you to know that my lovely bride has won her fight! She is now free of all pain, suffering and Hodgekins!!! She has been in the hospital receiving a bone marrow transplant to keep the Hodgekins at bay. Through prayers and fasting we knew that this was the right thing to do. The transplant went well. Even on Saturday all of the markers that they use to determine the success of the Grafting in were great. It was a success. However, last week she was getting sick and they found that Trisha has a Yeast Infection in her blood. They needed to remove her Purple Power Port and the central line that they were using to administer the medications. They then needed to raise IV's to replace them. She has spent the last week or so fighting this new infection. Saturday night she wasn't able to sleep much at all because of fluid stating to collect around her heart and lungs. They moved her down to ICU for extra help. Shortly after moving to the ICU they knew that there wasn't anything that they could do except to prolong.

Trisha and I have had many talks throughout our life together about what we would do. Trisha and I talked again and we knew what we were going to do. She was able to spend some time with most of her family and our kids. Her last message to them was "No Regrets".

 I don't have the words to give a portion of the appreciation that I have for each of you. Trisha was the writer and probably would have a couple of words for me to choose from. What I do know is that I am grateful to each and everyone of you. Your prayers, thoughts and numerous acts of charity will always be cherished. Trish would want me to tell you thanks also, and to remind you that she is happy, cancer free finally, and she is probably running. She was strong and still thinking of you and what she could do from her hospital room to be of service.

Trisha would want me to tell you that she is grateful for all of the experiences that she has had in her life. She cherishes each friendship that she has and how important you are to her. She received strength and encouragement from you and she feels better knowing she can call you friend. Her testimony of a Loving Heavenly Father and her Savior is stronger today than yesterday. She knows that Our Savior Lives and that we can return to live with our Father again with our families.

 Her services will be on Saturday, March 22. at Cedar Hills West Stake Building at 11:00am with visitations before from 9:30 to 10:30 and also Friday evening from 6:00 to 8:00pm at Warenski Funeral Home in American Fork.

Thank you for your love, prayers, support and service that you have been to my bride and my family. I pray that you will also feel the Love of our Father in Heaven and in Our Savior Jesus Christ as you think of Trisha or when you see her favorite color Purple. I know that I will always remember and cherish my life with Trish, and I will strive to be the kind of person that she tells people that I am. Trisha I LOVE you, and I miss you.

                SHMILY

Sweet Letter

I received this message from someone I used to teach in Sunday School in my last ward (over ten years ago). I think I taught the youth in Sunday School the entire time I was in that ward (about seven years).

Hello Trisha!

I've been meaning to write you for some time now, but for one reason or another I seem to have kept putting it off.

First of all, I would like to truly thank you for your wonderful example. We all go through trials in our lives. Some of us lose faith and ask, why me?. However, others face their challenges head on with courage, never losing faith in our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. You seem to me to be the latter. Two words come to my mind that describe how you seem to have faced the myriad of trials you have been called to bear: faithful and valiant.

Interestingly enough, those words also describe some of the key characteristics you instilled in me many years ago as my sunday school teacher. Although I have not been perfect, I have always remembered Trish Turner standing in front of a curious, querulous, know-it-all class and teaching us to look unto Christ in every thought, and to be faithful and valiant in all that we did. Teaching such a rowdy group of young boys may not have been your cup of tea, but I assure you that it meant the world to me. It is a lesson that I tried to teach as a missionary; it is also a lesson that my wife and I now hope to instill in our children. Thank you for that.

Also, it has been an almost daily inspiration to me as I have read some of your posts to see that you still continue to live what you taught us years ago. In my opinion, that is the definition of a true teacher. Again, thank you.

I want you to know that you are in our thoughts and prayers. Kourtney and I wish you the very best and hope that you and Bro. Howard are able to keep on keepin' on.

Warmest regards,

Matt

I'm so glad that I can help in spreading the message of the gospel somehow! It means the world to me that he remembers some of the things that I tried to live and instill. I can keep on keeping on if it helps or makes a difference to someone else.

I Told You So

It's Saturday, and I'm not feeling that bad anymore. My stomach has settled a great deal, and the pain for my line has dropped at least in half (to a level 3 now).

So why was last night so hard for me?

I'm not sure why I couldn't just let the promises for this process sustain me without having a mini-meltdown, but I feel much better this morning.

Time for another dose of Fludarabine and Cytoxan, so off to LDS Hospital Dale and I go.

We're a bit late (10 minutes), but they're still not prepared for me, especially when I demand that we change anti-nausea drugs. (What about the dexamethasone I was promised?) And we neglected to give extra fluids (saline) with the Cytoxan that was mentioned on Wednesday. Can we fix both of those things?

Sure, but it takes a while to track down the new orders.

Finally, the dexamethasone is on board, the two chemo drugs finish, and we clear the building around noon.

For the next three days, I'll just get the Fludarabine, which isn't as potent, so I should be good to go.

And no nausea or vomiting yet. And very little pain, especially compared to last night.

Hip, hip, hooray!

Maybe Too Much Optimism

So sometimes I forget how hard things are when you're fighting cancer.

I know that outcome, so I just want to focus on that and stay upbeat and positive. Everything will work out okay, so why dwell on anything else?

Well, sometimes the pains of this life intervene in my plans.

I'm sitting here, absolutely sick to my stomach. The thought of any food makes me immediately ill. And I'm throwing up violently. I feel like I did when I was seven, when all I could do after each treatment is throw up violently for about 18 hours. Yuck! Darn Fludarabine and Cytoxan.

They gave me an anti-nausea medication by IV, but I warned them that ondasetron (Zofran) doesn't do it by itself. They wanted to prove that it wasn't enough though. Drat!

And the three places where they had to cut me to place my central line are pretty painful, especially the middle one. It feels like I'm constantly being cut by a sharp knife and that knife isn't being pulled out. In fact, it's staying in and being twisted every once in while.

So I'm in pain (maybe at a level 6 for me). It's ratcheting up the pain scale as the night continues onward. But I'm nauseous and vomiting, so I don't dare take anything for the pain.

I'm not looking forward to sleeping tonight. In fact, I feel like crying and having a little pity party for myself. Darn it!

Why do things have to get so hard? They'll be better in the morning. I know that, so why isn't that enough to pull me out of my funk tonight? Why can't I continue focusing on the outcome of all this? I will be healed!

Miracles of Priesthood Blessings

I received a blessing tonight that absolutely seemed incredible and helped most of my concerns for this transplant go away.

I was promised:

* Peace and comfort.
* That my desires and hopes for this transplant will come true through this procedure.
* I will have the longevity I desire through this process.
* That the doctors and nurses and medical personnel will have the wisdom to know how to help me the best.
* There will be complications, but they will short in nature.
* I will feel the love of my Savior and Heavenly Father and family and friends.
* Through the prayers of those I know and who know me, I will be healed.

Hooray. There's truth behind some of the optimism I've been feeling. Hooray for the power of the priesthood and our Savior's and Father's involvement with our sometimes seemingly insignificant lives on this Earth. Our lives are not insignificant to them!

And thank you for your prayers and kind words and concerns. You are going to help heal me!

Assuming Someone Else's Identity

I'm sitting at home, contemplating everything we heard yesterday at the Family Conference with Dr. Daanish Hoda in preparation for my allogeneic mini (nonmyeloblative) haploidentical stem cell (bone marrow) transplant.

Tomorrow morning (Friday, February 7), I'll have a central line placed on the left side of my upper chest and then start five consecutive days of chemo to kill off some of my white blood cells to make room for the new stem cells from my sister to grow.

And I can't help feeling like today is the last day of my old life and tomorrow is the first day of my new life. Technically, maybe, I can't truly say that until next Wednesday--the day before my sister's cells are actually transfused into me. However, tomorrow is the first day of the actual regimen, so that's how I'm feeling.

And I'm more optimistic about how effective this transplant is going to be against fighting my cancer and any future outbreaks of it than I was with the autologous transplant I had in August of 2011, when my own cancer-free cells were put back in me. Surprisingly, Dr. Hoda understands my logic and agrees with me.

But I also feel like this second transplant will change me forever. That's a good thing (no more cancer for a while), but it's also a bad thing (as graft-versus-host-disease kicks in and Tressie's cells war against my own). I feel like there will be some GVHD complications that will permanently be with me for the rest of my life.

Like so many things in life, this process has amazing parallels to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Dr. Daanish said that we'll know the transplant was a success when, after some months or possibly a year have passed, they draw my blood and no longer see the properties of my own blood but see only the properties of Tressie's blood. When they look at my blood, they'll see only her blood. My immune system will be totally replaced by hers at that point, and that transformation will heal me of cancer.

Isn't that just what this life is about in spiritual terms? I'm trying to become like my Savior, Jesus Christ. I'm trying to let Him in me so deeply that when people look at me they see only Him--what He would do and what He would say if He were still on the Earth.

And only by accepting Him and becoming more like Him can He heal me--my sins and the pains and unjustices of this world.

Something to think about :-)

Bone Marrow Schedule

The new schedule for my allogeneic, haplo, stem cell, bone marrow transplant (BMT) is as follows:

*Friday, February 7
7 am: Have a central line placed by LDS Hospital's radiology department
11:30 am: Start Fludarabine and Cyclophosphamide chemo

*Saturday, February 8
10 am: More Fludar. and Cyclo. chemo

*Sunday, February 9
??? am: More Fludar. chemo

*Monday, February 10
11:30 am: More Fludar. chemo

*Tuesday, February 11
11:30 am: More Fludar. chemo

**Wednesday, February 12
9:00 am: Admit to LDS Hospital for total body irradiation and BMT

**Thursday, February 13
Receive my sister's stem cells and let them start the war between my Hodgkins-loving cells and her Hodgkins-fighting white blood cells

Sunday, February 16
Start high-dose chemo to kill my sister's T cells

Monday, February 17
More high-dose chemo

Tuesday, February 18
Start Tacrolimus and Mycophenolate to try and minimize any graft-versus-host-disease

~March, 8
Get discharged and start some period of being sequestered at home


Gee, aren't you jealous that your schedule isn't as exciting? LOL

*Usually patients are admitted for these days. However, because I've had so much chemo in my life and know what to expect, the BMT team is willing to let me try getting this regular dose chemo on an outpatient basis. If something feels wrong to me or I have any unforeseen complications, they'll then admit me.

**These are days that my sister is donating her stem cells through a dialysis-like process called aphoresis. Hopefully, I'll be allowed to visit her while she donates because she'll be in a room at the hospital that's considered part of the outpatient clinic at LDS Hospital on the 8th floor (which is the same floor where I'll be staying).

~This is my planned discharge date--3.5 weeks after being admitted. However, the BMT team told me to count on 4-5 weeks of hospitalization, which would stretch my discharge date until March 14. I know they told me to count on 4 weeks of hospitalization for the autologous BMT and I was out in exactly 3 weeks, so I'm hoping my 3.5 week plan works for their estimate of 4-5 weeks--especially because they're willing to let me try the first five days without being admitted.

Delays for Second Bone Marrow Transplant

I'm not sure what exactly happened, but I was supposed to have started chemo already, in preparation for my second bone marrow transplant (BMT)--this time an allogeneic haplo transplant.

I do know that my sister, Tabitha, who was going to be my donor said she hadn't been medically cleared to be my donor because she'd been to places in Mexico where there are malaria concerns.

So my sister, Tressie, stepped forward--even though she absolutely is terrified of all things medical, especially hospitals and needles. And I know the BMT team at LDS Hospital told Tressie that she'd be medically cleared, even if she had been to Mexico recently.

Like I said, not sure what happened with Tabitha; but I am grateful that Tressie is willing to be tortured by medical personnel on my behalf.

BUT this all puts a damper on my schedule. I think it's by divine design though.

I feel like things will change for the worse somehow in my life. I feel like the transplant will extend my life for at least a few years (I'm hoping for 7-10), but that there will be some complications from the war between my cells and my sister's that won't be pleasant.

I was just beginning to gear up mentally to start that war when it all had to be postponed while Tressie completed the vetting process, so now I'm just anxious to get it started.

Plus, I feel like, if the transplant doesn't happen within two months of my last chemo dose, the Hodgkins will be back. My last chemo dose was December 11th, so we have a tight window that's contributing to my anxiety.

However, we have a new tentative schedule, so we should be okay.