January 14, 2001|

Almost Done

We can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. Things are going extremely well here in terms of counts healing. My counts have shot up recently, and evenly doubled last night. Dr. Moskowitz mentioned that it looks like I could be out of here by Thursday. Three weeks! Ha! I knew we could do it, getting out of here earlier than the average stay (3 and a half weeks).

The Irony

I am healing too quickly! Because my counts have shot up, it is causing these fevers, which are rocking my world. These fevers are making it tough to keep food down, are making it tough to sleep at night, and making life generally uncomfortable. This is not uncommon, though, with patients who have rapidly increasing counts, and is treated with steroids.

The Article and the Benefit

Webmaster Patrick is going to put up the article from my hometown newspaper “The Vindicator” about this website, my story, and the benefit banquet that some of my dear friends are holding for me on January 20th in Youngstown, Ohio. You can check it out –CLICK HERE. Needless to say the website traffic and my e-mails have significantly gone up. Give me a few days to respond to any e-mail. I appreciate all of them, especially now.

Words of Encouragement

I thank you all for your words of encouragement. I have my good days. I have my bad days. It’s great to be able to check my e-mails and see SO many people supporting me. It’s overwhelming to hear from everyone I have ever known out there praying and thinking good thoughts for me. When this all blew up in September, I never thought it would get this big. It just amazes me to see how so many people can come together to support one person. Thank you.

“Not only so but we also rejoice in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance, character, character, hope…”

– Romans 5:1-4

God doesn’t make any mistakes. And certainly this is all here for some amazing good, in my life and hopefully in yours too.

January 9, 2001|

Much has happened since I last wrote. I will try to detail all of the important things without boring you.

Mr. Anti-Climactic Day

Thursday was the day. The day I get my stem cells back. It’s the name of the whole procedure, so you would think it would be quite eventful. Actually, the opposite held very much true. Around noon, three nice ladies pushed a cart into my room with a bunch of ice buckets and frozen containers of blood. Supposedly, I would be overwhelmed by the smell, so I would need to keep lemons by my face at all times. I would also feel “weird” when they were injecting the cells into my catheter. I may even become nauseated and bring up the nasty.

I am proud to say none of the like occurred. I sat up in my hospital bed, grabbed a handful of cut lemons (just in case), stuffed them in my nose, read “The New York Times” and let the nurse practitioner pump me full of the cells. There were seven rounds of this. The first two I actually felt a little tingle in my throat, but that was it for side effects. The rest of the afternoon was spent having a “Nutty Professor Film Festival” (highly recommendable).

Let the chemo side effects begin

Friday the side effects of the massive chemo I had ended a few days earlier began, along with the side effects from the radiation from a week earlier. It was all on schedule. The radiation, because it was done on my lower back and abdomen area, now was causing me major cramps. The chemo was starting to really lower my blood counts, causing fevers. Holding food down became a luxury, as my stomach was just too weak to hold anything.

And continue…

Keep in mind that this all going on as predicted. The doctors here have done these transplants so many times that they know exactly what day I will have this side effect, what day I will yak, what day I will have a bad hair day, what day I will start feeling better. It’s almost not fair. But it’s the means, not the ends!

Sunday started the sore throat. The sore throat so painful it hurts to talk. (Sorry if I don’t return your calls). In addition, I am under doctor’s orders not to eat (as that would cause more problems with my digestive tract). So I am living off IV fluids. The amount of saliva I produce now rivals any spring water-bottling factory. Watching TV is painful too. All those food commercials, OH! The only thing I am allowed to eat is ice chips. I can tell you what though. I have never tasted water as good as I have tasted in my life in the past few days.

Waiting

So I wait. Can’t wait for Saturday or Sunday to come! Those are the days predicted when my immune system will make its return. The days when I could swallow, eat, drink and not have mad cramps. Can’t wait. Please keep up the prayers. I need them so. It’s hard sometimes to see that I will make it to this weekend. Your prayers will get me there.

January 3, 2001|

So far, so good…

Well, I am on day six here in Art’s sabbatical, and so far so good. I have had only one really bad day. Otherwise, I feel fine. I have been really blessed so far. I am telling you, the prayers are really working, I can literally feel them keeping me up and going. I really haven’t slept in the past few days and eating happens kinda of sporadically, but I can’t complain. The side effects have been absolutely minimal. I can’t attest the good results to any other source. So far, so good.

The Big Concert

Next Tuesday is the big day. Let me regress. Last night, Molly and Michelle, two Goldman co-workers, were visiting when a musical therapist dropped by my room to offer a song up. She was a pretty hip 20 something who volunteers once a week playing her harp to patients. “Pretty cool,” we thought, so we invited her in, and she rocked up some ol’ traditional Irish tunes. Jokingly, I asked if she knew the Backstreet Boys. Ha! We all shared a laugh and then she mentioned that she did have some sheet music for some 60s songs. Hmmm…we peered over her binder and found the tune we wanted to sing along with, Molly and Michelle being karaoke queens.

As I investigated the sheet music, I discovered that the chords were really, really easy and that I could strum along on my guitar (which my dad brought earlier in the day to help pass the time). So we tuned up the harp with the guitar and jammed to the Peter, Paul and Mary classic “Leaving on a Jet Plane.” It was a moment that I probably will never forget. It was the first time I had played my guitar with anyone singing, let alone with another instrument. It was such a blast that we all decided to do it again next Tuesday. With a week’s practice under our belt, I can only imagine the show we will put on. So if you are in New York City next Tuesday at 7pm or so, we are going to have a harp and guitar concert. Be prepared to sing along.

Smiling

I have read how smiling does some kind of psychological or hormonal deal that perks you up. So I tried it yesterday when I was feeling really crummy, and let me tell you, it really works! Try it today! If you are feeling stressed, down, blue – just smile. Something lightening occurs when your lips curl up – and the world seems so much better. This probably sounds cheesy, but try it. It really works. That has been one of the many little lessons I have been blessed to learn while here in my bubble.

Up Next

Tomorrow is the actual stem cell transplant. From what I understand, it is anti-climatic and smelly (which is why for the procedure I have to suck on lemons). All they do is take a giant needle and push the stem cells through my catheter for like 30 minutes.

The next (and last) hurdle is the sore throat. The chemo is killing all of the rapidly multiplying cells in my body, including in my throat and mouth. Since I will have no immune system to stop the killing, the throat takes a beating for a few days until my white cells recover. Once that is over, it is all recovery and staying away from sick people. I expect to bounce back quickly, if everything goes the way it has gone so far. Please pray for my next 10 days or so, that I can deal with the pain and that I won’t be tired or sick or nauseated from not eating.

Thank you for the prayers so far, they have worked beyond what I could have imagined. Now I have some practicing to get back to… “I’m leavin’ on a jet plane, don’t know…”

January 1, 2001|

Happy New Year’s y’all! I just wanted to give a quick update of my current situation. My energy level is just toast, so getting on the computer is miracle in itself. I appreciate all of your encouraging emails and cards. Someday in a month or so I will be able to respond fully. So I apologize for not writing back sooner. It literally takes all my energy to write something like this.

I am being pumped full of tons of chemo and various anti-nausea liquids. I end up urinating about every 45 minutes on the dot. I have gotten used to it, especially since I have to save it for the nurses who keep a running tab to make sure everything is flushing through. These are some powerful drugs, and they really wipe me (Mr.Energy) out. Usually by 6pm I am out. Not necessarily tired, but unable to do anything like watch TV or read – almost like a zombie. It’s incredibly difficult for someone like me who can’t stand just lying around without doing anything.

The other tough part is eating. From now on, it gets difficult as the nausea usually brings it back up. After tomorrow when the chemo is done, I will be finished with nausea (thank God!) but mouth sores causes by the chemo killing all rapidly reproducing cells will make eating impossible for the next 10 days. Art = twig boy, for sure. After that everything rapidly heals and gets back to normal. It is just the next 13 days to get through. I don’t ask for much from y’all, but I will now. Please pray super hard for me for the next 13 days. Like as hard as you ever had. Pray that I can deal with the nausea. Pray that the days pass quickly. Pray that I can sleep. Pray that I can “fast” (Like y’all) for 10 days straight without it decimating me. Honestly, I am so scared. This is the toughtest test I have ever encountered, and there is no studying or preparing that can help, it’s all game time. After this is all over, I will look back and wonder at how I survived. The only answer will be the prayers of the righteous asking Christ to give me the peace that passes all understanding.

As I look back over this past year, a time of reflection, I realize despite the suffering, uncertainity, hardships that I would never change it for the world. Sure, there are times when I wish I could snap my fingers, and wish I could go back to last February and have the doctors discovered mono instead of cancer, but all in all, I wouldn’t trade it. All that I have learned, all that I have grown, from a boy to man. From a being “religious” to actually knowing, feeling and understanding God. I can see a Mastercard commericial coming out of this …priceless.

And probably one of the most rewarding things of this year is seeing how you all have stepped up to bat for me. Always. I sit here with my quilt and see all the hands of friends, family and co-workers from all over the country on there, rooting me on. The e-mail encouragements, the calls. I feel like I need to repay y’all, but I know I will never have enough time on this earth to do so. Love, I think I know what it is now too. 🙂 Never really knew before this all. Anyway, I hope you all have been blessed as much as I have during this adventure. It’s almost over, almost have reached the peak. Just pray that I get up there. Thank you.

Art

December 27, 2000| (taken from Message Board)

I sure miss Patrick (my webmaster)! The site is not the same, huh?

Christmastime
Friday I was released and my parents and I rushed to LaGuardia to catch our plane. No need to rush we discovered. Our flight to Pittsburgh, scheduled to leave at 3:40pm, didn’t actually get out till 11:30pm. Everyone at the airport was complaining and bellyaching. Me, I couldn’t have been happier. Nothing could have beat waiting for my flight, anything was better than being in the hospital. It was a busy weekend, I don’t think I got a chance to breathe. I had so many people to visit and see, so much to do, it was great.

The Quilt
Little did I know, behind my back, many of you were taking part in this quilt making deal. I couldn’t believe that no one blew it! No one blew the surprise! Not even my mom! The quilt is amazing. My aunt Joyce, who made it, thought she would get a couple pieces back and that she would have to do the rest. She ended up pulling an all nighter getting all the pieces sewed on, as there were enough pieces for a back and front! What is the quilt? Anyway, for those of you who they couldn’t reach in time to get a piece on the quilt, there are still a few empty squares to sign if you ever come to visit. I was totally shocked though, and really touched. The only thing I could think was that I have a responsibility to all these people to work my darndest to get better. It’s inspirational to see it. I was so touched. Man.

Going in…
Today I go into the hospital to start the stem cell transplant. Five straight days of chemo, then the recovery. Happy New Year! 🙂 Hey, I am ready to get it over with and to get healthy. It ended up that these lesions are of the utmost concern, but the stem cell should knock them out. I hope so.

Am I ready?
I don’t necessarily feel prepared for this battle. I haven’t had time to prepare physically (I am still way down weightwise), mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Last week kinda set me back. But that is part of this adventure, going into this not at full strength. I think in the end it will make me that much more stronger.
Last week was rough. And I realize how I didn’t help make it better at all. Yeah, I am allowed to get down, yeah I am human. But a lot of what got me down was my own selfishness. It was all about “me.” I was so focused on myself and why this had to happen to me that I missed opportunities to help others, especially during that week of Christmas. I feel somewhat ashamed. For example, my roommate really needed to be cheered up as he was going to be in the hospital during Christmas, and my dad did an awesome job. But where was I? Complaining on my butt. Just because life throws a curveball that doesn’t seem fair doesn’t give us any right to dwell on it. The next pitch is coming. Yeah, it was rough last week. But the next couple weeks are going to be rougher. Now is my time to step up, and be the light I need to be.

E-mail
I am really behind with e-mails, as so many of you have e-mailed me cheerful notes trying to bring me up from last week. Thank you and I am trying my best to catch up.

More updates on the way…

Art

December 21, 2000| (taken from Message Board)

Well, the new word.

First, thank you all for your prayers, thoughts, emails and gifts. They have sustained me during this most difficult of weeks. I have tons of emails to respond back to, so if you don’t hear from me in awhile, know that someday I will finish replying to all of them. I haven’t forgotten about you, trust me.

Seond, I have been given the OK to go home for Christmas to Ohio. Very fortunately, my parents were able to get tickets for my flights, so I will not be alone. I will be leaving Friday afternoon and returning to NYC on Monday afternoon (treatment bright and early on Tuesday afternoon).

The pain has gotten better. Not much, but manageable.

It took one last test, but the MRI with dye showed what we were looking for, the cause of the pain. It’s not the lymph nodes in my back, it is individual lesions of cancer along my verterbrae up my back. I don’t know exactly what a lesion is, but I don’t like the sound of it. I think it is like a little cut or buildup of cancer cells on the verterbrae.

Distressingly Dr. Moskowitz doesn’t know what he wants to do next because of these lesions. The stem cell is on hold. Maybe more chemo next, only he knows.

Personally, this is going into my soul, I am having rougher time not with the disease, but with the uncertainty and unexpectedness of these lesions. Just when I thought I had this thing licked. I keep on fighting and getting up, but this things keeps on kicking me down. It’s getting harder and harder to pick myself up and get up. I am running out of strength to do it. It makes me even more scared to realize that I could battle this the rest of my life, and that I will have to continue to get myself up.

I have never really thought it was appropriate to pray for a miracle. I just wanted to be healed, that’s all. I pray now for a miracle all the time. That’s what I am going to need. I fight hard, this cancer fights harder. I need a miracle to beat this thing.

I am also praying that this suffering and pain will be over by March 2001. I guess if I want to see results of prayer, I need to pray specifically. Please, God, let it be March. Let it by March. Let it be a miracle.

Have a Merry Christmas y’all. Thank God for all the blessings we’ve been given. And the most precious one of them all.

December 20, 2000|

Turn for the worst…

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Not at all. Instead, I am back in the hospital, in my same familiar room (1211A) with the same familiar nurses, with the same familiar pain. I wasn’t supposed to be in the hospital till next Thursday…I was supposed to be home for Christmas weekend…

It’s always the back

Last week, innocently, a little pain started growing in my lower left back. I didn’t think much of it. I hadn’t felt the pain in over a month. The chemo had shrunk the nodes that were causing the pain before. I had felt fine for such a long time. But then, as last week went on, I started taking more of my morphine to ease the pain. Unfortunately, it didn’t do much good. The pain was growing too intense.

Friday, I had a MRI done to check on this nagging back. The results came back inconclusive. No one knew what was going on. No one knew why the pain was there. Not the doctors, the neurologists, no one.

By Saturday, I could barely move out of bed and away from my heating pad. Something was the matter.

On Sunday at 9:30am, I went to wake up my roommate because of a phone call. As I gingerly walked down the hall, I felt something snap or break or crack in my lower left back. I screamed in pain and fell face first to the ground, catching myself only quick enough to roll over onto my back. My roommates heard my screams, called 911 and the next thing I know I was carted off in an ambulance to New York Presbyterian Hospital. After waiting for thee or four hours and not getting any pain relief, I was transferred to Sloan-Kettering, across the street. Still no pain relief, but at least at my familiar hospital.

Today

Still to this day, no one knows anything. The doctors can’t figure out why my back is in such pain. No one knows what cracked or caused my sudden fall.

We are still doing the twice-a-day radiation treatments, and hopefully they will help relieve the pain, but for now, I am still in just as much pain as when I came into the hospital. The doctors still don’t know the cause. I have another MRI with contrast dye scheduled for sometime this week. Maybe that’ll show something. I am not too optimistic.

Frustrated

This is where I get honest. I don’t have any inspirational words or lessons learned. I don’t have anything really positive to say.

I know what I should say and how I should feel, but I don’t feel that way. Simply put, I am screaming, “God, where are you!?! I know you are there, you have been there before for me, where are you now?! Help!”

I don’t have any answers to this and I wish I did. I wish I knew why I have to go through this pain period again. I wish I knew what was going to happen to my schedule for the stem cell transplant – even that is up in the air now. My Christmas spirit has been totally quashed.

I don’t see any light in the darkness of this all. There’s nothing to guide me, nothing to show me where to go, nothing to show me how to survive from one point of the struggle to the next. It’s just dark.

December 12, 2000|

Back to Reality

I had being living “normally” for the past few weeks and enjoying it. I thought it was going to last awhile, at least until my hospitalization. Then last Thursday I got a whammy – the back pain came back. I don’t know where or how, it just did. Everyday after that it got worse and worse. I started taking my pain killing morphine pills, but then those side effects (extreme drowsiness, mad constipation, loopiness) kicked in. We are hoping the radiation on that area, which I start Thursday, shrinks those bad boys and knocks off the pain. If not, then I have to deal with this until the 28th, when I get admitted into the hospital. Pain is one of those things that grows you up really quick, ya know? Especially in this situation, I know it hurts, but I also know it won’t hurt in three weeks. There’s not much I can do but suck it up, try to manage it, and move on with life – doing things! Gotta stay busy.

I also have been closely monitoring the Mario Lemieux story. Super Mario is back and will be playing for the Pittsburgh Penguins again. That is an amazing story. He’s had to fight off back pain and also beat Hodgkin’s Disease. Shoot, if Mario can do it, I can do it! I am in good company.

Better Understanding

I had a big shock occur Friday morning. My mom told me the scary news that my high school choir director had gotten into a bad accident the night before while driving to a performance. Dr. Baird was late, so the kids knew that something was wrong. Dr. Baird is never ever late. The kids did the performance accapella, and then went across the street to the Highway Patrol office (convenient!). There they were told the bad news and rushed to the hospital. The information from here gets sketchy, but she is not doing well and remains in stable condition.

I never really understood how a lot of you felt about my situation. Words of frustration and helplessness dotted some of my earlier conversations when you found out about me. I now understand, though. I have such a helpless feeling now for Dr. Baird. There’s nothing I really can do. Even those in Youngstown can’t do very much as only family can visit her right now (despite the fact that anyone who went through the Youngstown Connection can be seriously considered her family), so they are in the same boat. I feel doubly helpless, four hundred miles away. The only thing we really can do in such situations is pray for that person.

New Pages/Site

I did realize that I could do something. I could write. I had amassed a ton of e-mail addresses of friends, family and former members of the groups. So I e-mailed them out, informing them and getting some prayers in motion. In addition, I have been waiting for the right time to put up the Connection page off of my web site. Last night I cranked out the page. I still have a lot of pictures and stories to put in, but for now we have a page. Definitely take a look at it when you get a chance.

Webmaster Patrick and I also spent most of the weekend redesigning the site, as you can tell. There is now a message board. You can also e-mail me straight from the site. And the February Prayer Calendar is up and running. If you have any suggestions for the site, pass them along!

That’s all for now…please pray for Dr. Baird. Another update should be up next week about this time.

December 6, 2000|

Home for Christmas…literally!

The word was given today. I could go home to Ohio for Christmas. What a surprise that was! It actually happened yesterday when my whole plan for radiation was bumped back about three days. That then bumped back my admittance to the hospital which meant that I wouldn’t have had to spend the holiday in New York City.

I was totally sold on being here in NYC for Christmas. More importantly, the lesson I needed learn was burned in my head- the real meaning and purpose of Christmas. At first, I was really really bummed about not being able to go home to a familiar Christmas- with family, friends, good food, and presents. But someone posed to me the challenge of what Christmas was all about- and I realized that Christmas is not about any of that stuff. It’s about God coming to earth- it’s about giving, just as was given to us. So, I was fully prepared to go into the hospital, armed with a mission of somehow giving to others on that day, despite being strapped to an IV filled with cancer-killing chemicals. I would dictate the situation, not the situation dictating me.

I think, though, that I am needed at home instead, perhaps even more. Who knows who I will see that needs to learn that lesson, that person I can touch? Who knows what old friend I will run into at the mall that weekend who I can inspire? Or maybe that is my last gasp of personal encouragement before I go into the last battle of this war?

The Situation

The results of the CT Scans came back today. The CT Scan is the best test to measure the effect of the chemo, showing a 3 dimensional picture of the infected lymph nodes. The infected nodes in my right lung (the one I was most scared about), it’s gone. It’s back to normal size. Here, here. The nodes in my back are still the same size, but it is not known where they are still infected with cancer cells or scar tissue. The radiation will toast it though, and then the 5 days straight of chemo during the stem cell transplant will further eradicate it.

…And one tree-lighting ceremony

Oh yeah, I decided to trek the five blocks to see the tree-lighting ceremony at Rockefeller Center. If you ever want an experience to see how diverse America is, go to any one of these type functions in New York City. It was crazy, people everywhere. Cops, everywhere. Barricades, everywhere. The experience was quite amazing.

I ended up leaving before the actual lighting, and got home to catch it on TV. I didn’t feel it was the best thing for me to be standing for three hours, to be three blocks away and hardly see the tree. No, I didn’t see or meet any boy bands this time. Dang! J

Personal Thanks

Anyway, your prayers, calls, and e-mails, they are all working. For the node that I thought would be the most troublesome, to be toast- well I am flabbergasted. And to go home for Christmas, well that is equally flabbergasting too. And my immune system, let me tell you. Did you know I was a superhuman last week? Let me tell you.

Today, I found out a normal count for the immune system is 4- 11K/ul. Mine, it was 30,000 K/ul last week! There was no way I was catching a cold during Thanksgiving or last week! Those shots of white blood cells I was giving myself, they really work! Forget the vitamin C! Anyway, this time when I go home, I will be allowed to go out and do stuff, so I plan to see as many of you as possible.

So anyway, keep up the good work. It’s the best Christmas present I could ever (and probably will ever) receive. Look for another update next Tuesday or Wednesday.

November 28, 2000|

Thanksgiving 2000

It was great to be home. I don’t want to bore you too much with the details but I will pass along a few tidbits. I was housebound most of the weekend, because of my low immune system. Actually the exact words as I left the hospital two weeks ago from my doctor (a bit of a pessimist, you could say) was that 100%, no 75% of the patients who left after this massive chemo were readmitted because of fever. I guess I made the 25% cut. Any surprises there?

Thursday, I was up early watching my old show choir, the Youngstown Connection, open the Macy’s Parade. They were the ones with the skittle-colored sweatshirts swirling around Katie Couric and Matt Lauer at the beginning of the show. Katie, what a babe. The rest of the day was spent with family, eating lots of food, showing off my baldhead and playing Beyond Balderdash (the official Schlatter-Canning board game of the millenium).

Friday I was allowed out of the house to shop at the local Christian bookstore to load up on CD and book specials. I think Kara (who drove up from Canton for the sale and to see me) and I spent like 2 hours there. A constant stream of visitors came by the rest of the night. It’s just great to see people, ya know.

Saturday, I went to the mall (behind mom’s back, eek! Germs! Colds! Flu’s!) to find a new hat and to help find a dress for my second mom, Beth, for her class reunion that night. No luck with the hat or dress. Robin, Beth and I ended up at my house, after my mom gave an extremely demanding call to be home by 2pm. I was very upset about having to come home at 2pm. We got home by 2:30pm, started to eat lunch when a funeral procession of 10 cars went up our usually empty street. At least I thought it was. Then I recognized one of the cars and sprinted out our backdoor only to be greeted by 25 or so members of the Connection from past and present. They all piled in my living room and we sang old Connection songs like “When You’re Smiling,” “Blue Skies,” “Candle on the Water,” and “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” By the time we were finished, I hadn’t cried, but a good number of folks were. It was very touching. I then went to their practice later that afternoon and gave a talk to the new members of the Connection about what it means to be in the group and the responsibilities they now hold. I’ll put a page up soon about Connection when I get a chance.

Planes, Trains and Low Immune Systems

Cool thing coming back, everyone was so worried that I would catch a cold and end up in the hospital. That was never so more evident then on Monday morning when I was taking an Amtrak train from Philly to New York. It was put into my head to take the 11am train. So I went online and got my ticket for the 11:15am train. Crazily, the train before mine was sold out, and the train after mine was sold out.

Here’s where it gets freaky. Those trains were PACKED. I was pretty scared at the station. I start thinking, “The train is going to be full, I am going to get a cold, mom is going to kill me, Dr. Moskowitz is going to beat me down, help God!”

The call goes up for our train, and the line is really short. Really short. By the time we were off, there were two other people in my car! And by the time we arrived at Penn Station, there were only like ten people on our car! I wonder how that happened, somebody’s watchin’ over me.

Up Next, Darth Vader

I am now accessorized out. I have a great hat (spandex ski hat, can you beat spandex?!) and a great new pair of glasses, courtesy of Jordan Opticians in Brooklyn. Thursday I go in for a CT Scan to see how well the past two chemos have worked. My dad and prayer lady Kim both independently think that there is going to be a miracle and everything will be gone. I would love that, personally, but I am not betting the ranch on anything. Rather I know I need to prepare now for the last battle- the actual transplant. Five straight days of chemo and then not having an immune system for a few days is not going to be easy, but I feel that I can lessen the effects by bulking up, getting in better shape, and preparing mentally for the challenge. It’s kinda like Luke Skywalker going to Endor in “Return of the Jedi”. Preparing to face the dark side, which is totally a part of him (“Luke, I’m your father”), but he has to defeat it anyway he can. Just call me Art Skywalker.

Results from the CT Scan next week, stay tuned.