Recipient Update

I received a call this morning with an update on the patient. So far so good!

They essentially read a series of yes/no responses, but I learned that:
The patient's body is accepting my blood cells.
The patient has been released from the hospital.
The patient is doing "well" (next option is "great" and that is highest).

I was starting to get worried because I had not heard anything. I'm so glad they waited to have complete info so they could tell me the good news so far. I'm feeling good about this all over again and at this point can say that I would definitely do it again - whether for this patient (who seems to be responding well) or a new one.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

At the end of the day, Inja gave the bag of blood cells (after all that it was just one bag and only half full, but that was enough apparently)
to a lab tech. I had to initial it next to my patient i.d. number. He put it in a ziploc and packed it into one of those blue baby diapers. He looked at me and said "thank you," smiled, and walked away to stash it in an ice chest just like this.

From there, they had a messenger whisk it away to the hospital where the patient awaits the transfusion. I was told she would have it within 48 hours, which means she could already be done and onto the wait & see stage or tomorrow may be her big day. She could be anywhere in the world, even in the same hospital where I made the donation. I will know in about 3 weeks if the procedure went well and then I'll receive periodic updates. After a year, if all is well, she and I will have the opportunity to give consent to meet or at least to share more information about who and where we each are. Thinking good thoughts for the patient as she has a long road ahead of her.

Long Day is Over

I am back home resting and still watching Lost. Maybe some Gossip Girl, Mad Men, and Weeds for good measure. The time passed surprisingly quickly. I started the day when they opened and it was pretty quiet and calm. When I returned from breakfast to start to donation, the place was already bustling. By 4pm, everyone had come and gone and I was still in that chair. The nurses were amazing and Inja made the whole process relatively painless and easy.

Of course, it didn't hurt that I had some entertaining and helpful visitors. Scott was there, of course, to help get going and chat while watching Lost. Then my thoughtful mother-in-law paid me a visit, helped me eat lunch and even brought me a milkshake! She and Scott went out for lunch so he got a break and I took a little nap. Then, Audra came by and the day was over before we knew it. We treated ourselves to a little faux Pinkberry afterwards and headed home.

If you are really curious about the process, I also took pictures of the tubes in my arms and would be glad to send them to you but I'll save the majority of you that don't want that level of detail.

The Process -- if you are squeamish, skip this part
This is the machine they used to separate the blood cells. They drew blood from my left arm and ran the tubes through here, then into the centrifuge where the blood-forming cells were separated and collected in a bag labeled "volunteer donor." Then, they mixed the remainder with a saline solution and calcium citrate and sent it back into my right arm. It felt warm going in and by the afternoon I was like a toddler taking a nap-- blankets kicked off and a sweaty head (not to be confused with my nephew's air band, The Sweaty Men).


If you look closely at all the tubes running through the machine, you can actually see my blood running through the tubes and two vials in the middle toward the bottom. I didn't get to see it in the centrifuge, but Scott did and thought it was pretty cool.

I couldn't move my left arm for about 6 hours, so Inja gave me a cow stress ball to squeeze. She intended it to help me pump when I needed to, but I kept it all day so that I could fidget without moving my whole arm.

I'll save my favorite part (the final product) for the next post.

Now back to reclining day...

And we're off

Had the last shot. The line is in. Currently freaking out the Upper East Siders at Le Pain Quotidien with my crazy arm cuff and blogging left handed. Donation starts at 10.

Off to the races

Headed to the hospital now for the CBC test, possibly one more dose of filgrastim, and then a nice long breakfast before the donation starts.

Let the Countdown Begin

The 4 days of shots have come to an end. I chewed lots o' calcium and drank water all weekend. I'm about to take one last dose of Tylenol to stave off the back pain and hopefully kill this headache, and then it will be donation day. Better make it Tylenol PM so I can be sure to get some sleep and not wake up thinking I've been punched in the kidneys.

In the end, the shots weren't so bad. The visiting nurses who came to my office and the beach were total pros and the shots themselves barely hurt at all. Colleen, the nurse at the beach, was so encouraging and really pumped me about about Monday. Saturday was the worst day of side effects from the filgrastim and today wasn't great, but I'm either used to it now or it is fading. Either way, it will be over tomorrow after the donation.

No Pain No Gain

It hurts when I sneeze. My back aches and occasionally spasms, my legs burn, and I have a headache that won't stop. But the most bizarre side effect by far is how my neck and sinuses hurt when I sneeze. And if you know me well, you know I sneeze a lot. I woke up this morning at 6am feeling as though (as my friend Becky and Serena Williams would say) my head was in a vice.

I suppose this all means that the Neupogen filgrastim is working and I am growing extra white blood cells. I will know for sure Monday when they do the CBC to test the blood count before my 5th and final round of shots.

Yum, yum calcium

Adding to the list of top 10 things about being a bone marrow/stem cell donor ... calcium chews. During the donation, I will lose a lot of calcium and have been warned that I may feel "a tingling around your mouth and in your hands," at which point they would give me an IV of calcium carbonate. So, in prep for Monday I am enjoying a healthy dose of chocolate calcium soft chews. They taste great at first and then they're just chaulky.

Biohazard Goody Bag

On Thursday, I went for my first injection of Neupogen, which is the substance that will enable me to produce the cells they will collect on Monday. I knew all along that I would receive a shot of this a day for five days. What I didn't realize was that it is actually 3 shots per day and that they hurt! Needles aren't such a problem, but it stings the whole way in. The pain is over quickly and then it's fine but not since I was a kid have I had so many shots and winced at each one.

Today, the visiting nurse will come to my office and give me the next round of shots. As an added bonus, I get to carry around the kit for her. I've nicknamed it my biohazard goody bag. And you can see why... I'm also storing the Neupogen in the fridge in what looks like a big blue baby diaper. I hope no one gets curious and tries to heat it up for lunch. So far the shots don't hurt after they go in, although I am told that by tomorrow I will feel as though I've had a really tough day at the gym and will be sore. The nurse advised me to stick to Extra Strength Tylenol (since Advil or aspirin would thin the blood and they don't want that) but that if it really hurts they could give me Percocet. I'm really hoping the pain doesn't get to that level.

I'm really excited for Monday and hope that all goes smoothly.

Why Am I Doing This?

Over the course of this process, I have made multiple visits to the New York Presbyterian Hospital for testing and meeting with doctors & transplant nurses. In total, I have spent about 5 hours in their waiting room and had the chance to see a variety of patients awaiting treatment. There are always at least two who have lost their hair from chemotherapy, at least two anxious middle-aged women waiting with their ailing parents, and thankfully no children. Sometimes I see young children there with their parents and I pray that the parents are donors too and that the kids are not here to support their parents in treatment. Each time I am there, it makes me wonder about the patient on the other side of my donation.

Does she have a family waiting with her? Is she a mom? If not, will she get the chance to be? Is she anxious about the transplant? How long has she been battling this disease? I have so many questions for this person and so much hope that I can help her in some way.

What I am moved by in the waiting room is that people are in good spirits. A lot of people look at me and smile. I am often the youngest person in the room and feel like I should wear a t-shirt that says "Don't worry, I'm not sick" but then I would feel bad for rubbing it in their faces. In the blood draw room, the lab tech asked me if I was here today for chemotherapy. It really struck me that there are so many types of cancer and so many diseases that anyone at any age can be battling a disease. The man next to me in the reclining chair (where I will return for my donation on Monday), was so proud to say that this is the only day he had to take off for treatment. Life really does go on, even when you are fighting for your own.

Back in the blood draw room, I explained to the nurse that I'm here to prepare for a donation. She asks if I know the person and I say no. And add that I actually know nothing about her, other than her age and her diagnosis. She asks the same questions that everyone asks: why are you doing this? How did you get involved? I feel like it was all really by chance. I stumbled into a bone marrow registration drive in Earl Hall one day my sophomore year in college and registered spontaneously. I didn't think much about it until this year. I'm really amazed by the technology of it all. How they can match me with this patient, track me a down after almost 10 years and put the whole process together so quickly. Then, the fact that they don't have to do surgery to remove my bone marrow but can simply take the cells from my blood and give it to the patient just absolutely amazes me. I wish I knew more about biology and medicine to really grasp all of this. For now, I'm just thankful.