This week has been a whirlwind of events.
We flew out to Utah on Saturday (8 days ago). On Monday, Bucky had an appointment with the cancer specialist. And wow, did we look weird in that waiting room. Maybe it would have been a little less weird if I wasn't 36 weeks pregnant. No. We still would have stuck out. Everyone was 3 times older than me.
Anyways, after that appointment they told us to go to the hospital so Bucky could be admitted that day. We went to the hospital, they drew all his blood, okay, not all of it, but it sure looked like it. And then they started running some tests.
And we waited.
And waited.
And waited some more. In fact, that kind of seems to be a big part of this week. But it was good, because while we waited, they were studying his specific leukemia cells, determining different characteristics of them so they would know which course of action would be best to take. I always thought leukemia was leukemia-but this week has taught me that, yes, I know even less than what I previously thought I knew. Which I already knew was not that much.
So, by Tuesday, they knew enough about the leukemia to know what they wanted to do with Bucky. And Wednesday, he started his chemotherapy.
With his specific type of leukemia (ALL, which is the one most common in children-we always knew Bucky was just a big child, right?), they have the patient do 4-5 weeks of chemotherapy, mixed with a myriad of other drugs and procedures (steroids and spinal taps, namely). And the goal of these first 4 weeks is to put the leukemia into remission. Meaning no trace amounts of cancer.
After that is accomplished, he moves on to the next step which is one month of out patient chemo. Sorry, did I forget to mention that the first step is in patient? Well it is. So the second step is out patient-and sorry, I don't have my notes in front of me, but I guess this is to make sure the leukemia is REALLY gone. Apparently, even the best machines cannot detect all of the leukemia, so they do this to make sure the next step works.
Bone Marrow transplant. I know, it makes my fingers all weak, just typing it. But the doctor that explained it made it sound really anti-climatic. No, it is nothing like getting Adamantium fused to your bones like Wolverine in X-Men. Heaven help the person who goes through a procedure like that. Basically, they draw your blood, separate the stem cells, and give you the rest back. And give Bucky the healthy stem cells.
So that is what we have learned this week, in a nut shell.
Oh here's some figures for you:
A normal/healthy immune system has
4500-9000 white blood cells. 9000, is pretty upper though, it might be a little lower. If you're fighting a cold, it might go up to 10,000. Maybe 11,000 but that's pushing it.
In Alabama, his WBC count was: 183,000. Yeah holy smokes right? I thought he was pretty much going to die on the airplane. Monday, because of the pills they had given him, it was 82,000. And as of yesterday morning, it was 4500.
And all of his blast cells are gone. Basically, cells begin as blasts and then form into neutrophils or lymphocytes. The leukemia cells are lymphoblasts-pretty much immature cells that are a detriment to society. They don't function at all and they crowd out the good citizens. So, this is very good news.
Thank you for all of your prayers and love. We know that it has been your added faith that has carried us through this week. We love you. We pray for you too and are so grateful to be able to see the hand of the Lord through all of this.