Day 125 – Cancer Coterie

Jeff and I had dinner tonight with Rita, my book club friend, who was up from Florida.  It was nice to see her and to have an excuse to eat out!

Rita lost her husband to brain cancer last year, about 10 months after diagnosis.  We commiserated about the cancer journey – the good days and bad days, the anxiety, the way you begin to accept whatever comes and, Jeff noted, the change in appetite and the level of fatigue.  Jeff is astonished by the number of people he meets who are affected by cancer.  He speculated that half of the people in the restaurant either have had cancer or had a close family member who had cancer.

He made me wonder whether that could be true or does it just seem so prevalent because we are currently absorbed by the world of cancer.  This website is interesting:  http://cancercontrol.cancer.gov/ocs/prevalence/

Jeff seems to be building a sort of cancer coterie here in the neighborhood.  He talks to his friend, Martin, who is a cancer caregiver for his wife, Pat.   He thinks about people nearby that he knows are sitting in their homes just like he is - coping with cancer.  Earlier this week, Jeff told me that he often thinks about Debbie, a friend from Kerry’s Boy Scout days and a fellow cancer patient.  Today, Debbie called Jeff.  Her diagnosis is pretty ugly and her prognosis fairly dire.  The two of them had some experiences in common (all-over hair loss being one of them.)  They promised to speak again.  It will help them both pass the time and, hopefully, be mutually beneficial.

I asked Jeff to help me wrap up this blog entry.  He suggested, “Sometimes the best medicine is talking about your problems” which we decided was trying to be the cliche “misery loves company” to which he added, “but who would want to work for that company…”   Anyway, pray, please, for all of the above mentioned.   

Day 124 – Spoons!

Jeff spent some time in his shop today, a little while in the morning and again in the afternoon.  He turned a spoon and started another, both with handles that look like syringes.  He intends them as gifts for Jackie and Heather, the two transplant nurses at Dr. Porter’s office.  He said his grip seemed to be good and he was satisfied with his control. 

To me, this is happier news than any blood test or biopsy result.  However, Jeff did not seem to impress himself with his abilities.  He said, “Well, I mowed the grass yesterday.”  Just another day in the life of our 124-day-old BMT patient.

Day 122 – Funny Business As Usual

Friday night Kim came up to visit and we made Grandmom Loux’s Chocolate Funny Cake.  The recipe calls for three layers so we decided to split the work three ways.  Jeff was in charge of the pie crust, his forte.  Maybe it was the humidity that caused the crust to be a problem; it was not easy to roll out.  Jeff sweat with the effort and became frustrated.  We managed to get the crust in the pie plate and added Kim’s chocolate and my cake layers.  Jeff said the result tasted like his mother’s but it didn’t look like it.  We perhaps, maybe, possibly were a little, teeny bit too anxious to serve it.

Saturday morning we went to our favorite breakfast joint, Mil-Lee’s in Yardley.  We met Judy and Mark and had Kim along with us, too.  I think it was my first breakfast out since Jeff’s transplant; it was his second.  Such a little thing as breakfast out seemed so special after a four-month hiatus. 

Jeff forgot to take his pills on Sunday morning.  Instead of going to my parents’ house after church, we had to go back home for his meds.  It turned out that he wasn’t feeling well enough to go visiting.  He tried to find a reason for his discomfort; he laughed and told me he was trying to blame it on the meds – the ones he’d forgotten to take!  He guessed it was just one of those days.  I hooked up his IV and asked him how he likes his mini-bag one-hour infusions.  He said it is “not a long enough nap.” 

I had asked for Jeff’s help in selecting some of our favorite wedding photos from the digital proofs Kerry and Theresa had given us.  Sunday afternoon we sat poring over the 400+ pictures of the beautiful couple and their gorgeous friends and siblings, etc.  Jeff boogered out somewhere around photo number 100.  I soldiered on until I had selected 167 of my favorites.  Now at least I can show some of them to my friends without reserving hours of their time. 

Today – Monday - Jeff began his week with a lot of ambition.  He thought about working on our neighbor’s door again but decided the humidity would zap his energy.  He had a short list of household chores and grocery shopping to do but why do today what you can put off for tomorrow?  He went out to lunch with Dan – always a good choice.  Then he fixed a zipper on one of my purses, showing impressive manual dexterity.  I keep encouraging him to try the lathe and when he called me at lunchtime, I pushed gently again. 

The lathe - the newest piece of equipment in his shop.   It was purchased since his diagnosis, specifically with this long recovery time in mind.  In order to use it, he had to clear the workbench and tidy the shop, put things away and clean out a paintbrush abandoned by Keith after a summer paint project.  During the time he was being treated with Vidaza, Jeff installed the lathe in his shop and wired the lighting for that area.  However, when he went into the shop today, he could not remember how to turn that light on!  He thought this was pretty sad.  I reminded him that it wasn’t as though he’d used the lathe for years and suddenly forgot where the light switch was located.

Once he got going, the actually turning went alright.  It seemed manageable, he thought.  He started turning a spoon handle but did not get to the more jarring cup part of the spoon.  Prior to the transplant he could finish turning a spoon in an hour or so.  Still, this first attempt was satisfactory. 

Today’s blood counts were pretty good as was Jeff’s blood pressure when Nurse Anthony checked it this morning.  Jeff has decided to always use his “good arm,” the left one, for BP checks.  He and Giblet have developed a routine when the nurses come to the house.  Jeff muzzles Giblet for a minute and this seems to calm her.  Her incessant barking may cause Jeff’s BP to measure high.  Consistent use of the left arm together with Giblet’s submissive behavior yields better BPs.

Day 120 – Bag Half Full?

Thursday morning Jeff began using the half-bags of IV fluids.  The bulbous little bags are cute.  They hold 500 ml of fluids with magnesium.  Jeff had already decided how he would use that extra hour not spent infusing.

Our neighbor, Fran, had offered Jeff a number of small household projects at his house so Jeff could test his strength and abilities close to home whenever he was ready.  Fran suggested Jeff could scoot back home to rest as often as he needed to.  I thought Jeff’s first tests would be done in his shop, not at the neighbor’s house, but Fran’s offer was very thoughtful.  The two of them decided painting the front door would be the first project. 

After not working for many months, the shop was looking more like our sons’ shop than Jeff’s and it took him some time to gather his supplies.  He headed over to Fran’s to prep the door for painting.  In no time, he was sweating profusely and he was shaking with the effort of scraping.  He couldn’t lift his right arm over his head so he used his left hand.  Fran kept insisting that Jeff go home to rest.  Instead, he sat down frequently and then resumed his work.  After an hour he had managed to do what he estimated would normally have been a half-hour’s work.  And then it was quittin’ time; he couldn’t do any more that day.  And guess what?  The door was scraped, primed and ready for paint! 

Jeff related all this to me with neither complaint nor pride.  He was just a little concerned, I think.  I asked him how he liked the one-hour infusion and he said it was “not a long enough nap.”  That evening I don’t think I heard him once sigh or say his mantra, “I need a new body.” which is as close to a complaint as he ever gets.  I guess you could say he is a bag-half-full kind of guy!  Or, in this case, since the desired end is no bag, would he be a bag-half-empty kind of guy?  

Day 116 – Im-patient Patient

Last night Jeff said, “You realize that tomorrow we might not learn anything remarkable.”  I agreed, “It will be just another day.”  We had managed to have fun on the weekend without thinking too much about biopsy results.  In fact, I think we are both in a state of acceptance most of the time.

Dr. Lee called last night to postpone Jeff’s final exercise study evaluation.  He has strep throat which, in his line of work, keeps him out of work for a few days.  Oh well, we’ll catch him another time.  Unfortunately, it might mean a special trip to the city. 

Dr. Porter’s office was busy this morning.  Jeff was becoming anxious as more and more patients who arrived after us were called in.  Several doctors share the office; it was unlikely they were Dr. Porter’s patients who were getting in ahead of us.  While we sat waiting, the line at the desk grew unusually long.  A woman called from the desk, “Is anyone here checking out?”  Jeff muttered under his breath, “I hope not!”  He chuckled and commented that perhaps that was a bad choice of words to use in an oncology office.  Finally, Jeff’s name was called.

Jeff stopped in the first screening room for a weight check and vitals.  He gained a pound and his blood pressure was pretty decent.  So far, so good.  Then we sat in an exam room to wait some more.

Nurse Heather came in to discuss Jeff’s skin problems, his meds and some of his test results.  She said his blood counts are good.  “And,” she said, “you have nice hair.”  She swabbed his cheek for DNA because the lab had run out of Jeff’s DNA (more on that later).  She said the biopsy showed clear marrow – no leukemia.  Some of the tests were not completed yet – the engraftment analysis and the chromosome test. The engraftment level will show how much of Jeff’s marrow is the donor’s and the chromosome test looks at the chromosomes which were affected by Jeff’s MDS.

Heather said priority is given to the lab tests for in-patients which may explain the delay in getting Jeff’s results.  Jeff said, “Well, we’re ‘im-patient!’”  Heather got the joke and added, “Actually, you’ve been very patient.”  I asked whether Hemoglobin counts in the 11s are good.  She said those are good counts for where Jeff is now - post-transplant -which is not normal, she reminded us.  She said that often, when patients are taken off Tacrolimus, the bone marrow will “flourish.”  

The biggest news is that Heather suggested working on getting Jeff off of IV fluids.  She ordered new IV bags with half the magnesium and half the fluid so that infusion will take only one hour, not two.  Jeff said, “YES!”  I thought he was pretty close to leaping out of his chair to hug Heather.  Jeff has been complaining that the infusion every morning – and the two-hour nap that inevitably accompanies it – takes such a chunk out of his day that he never feels like he can start a project or do much of anything.  Jeff will take an additional magnesium pill every day - three in all - to replace the IV mag.  Heather outlined a plan that could have Jeff off the IV fluids in two weeks and the Hickman catheter pulled out in about a month.  Jeff was both glad to hear it and disappointed it couldn’t happen any sooner.

Heather left the room to consult with Dr. Porter.  Several minutes later, Dr. Porter and an intern came in.  Dr. Porter congratulated Jeff on good results from the biopsy.  He said, “Consider this remission.  A cure is a few years away.  There is still a lot of work to do but this is a really important milestone.”  He discussed the Tacrolimus taper which, by his schedule, would finish by the end of November.  Jeff liked that better than Jackie’s schedule which would have ended in early December.  Still, Jeff remembered, we’ll have to watch for evidence of GVHD which could slow the taper.  Dr. Porter doesn’t need to see Jeff for another month.  He will call us only if the engraftment or chromosome tests indicate that Jeff needs to do something.  He didn’t expect that to be the case.

 

I asked why Heather needed to gather DNA from Jeff’s cheek.  Dr. Porter said they needed to be able to compare the donor’s DNA which is found in Jeff’s blood and Jeff’s DNA which is found everywhere else.  Jeff was blown away by this.  I think we’ll need to find the CSI episode about the bone marrow recipient who committed a crime and left donor DNA (blood) at the scene.  That might help.

We picked up Kim for a late lunch and a late afternoon visit with my parents to share the news.  Judy was there, too, so the grapevine is sure to precede the blog in spreading news to my sibs.  When we got home, I hooked Jeff up to his IV and let him alone to sleep while Kim and I ran errands.  When the IV finished, Jeff spoke with Kerry by phone.  While the news is good, it doesn’t seem like kick-up-your-heels news.  Or are we just too tentative to embrace it?  I wonder…

Day 112 – Done With This!

Today Jeff forgot to take his eight morning pills and didn’t realize it until 7:30 p.m.!  Sometimes I set out his pills on the kitchen table when I take his IV bag out of the refrigerator.  This morning, though, I didn’t. 

He met Kim for lunch at Reading Terminal Market and ate a burger with lettuce and tomato.  Fresh vegetables at restaurants are still not allowed because it is impossible to guarantee that they would be washed adequately.  He didn’t even think about that until I asked him what he’d ordered. 

One day this week, I heard Jeff in the shower.  He no sooner got started when I heard him slap the water off and say, "Darn!"  I suspected the problem and asked, “Did you forget your patch?”  He had!  An AquaGuard patch protects his Hickman catheter when he showers.  The bandage and ports are not supposed to get wet!    

After more than one hundred days of pill-taking, IV fluids and fussy food, Jeff would like to be done with all this! 

Day 109 – Keep Your Fingers Crossed

Sometimes I think too much about numbers.  For example, since his BMT, Jeff’s hemoglobin has usually measured in the 9’s and 10’s.  That was an improvement over the 8’s and 9’s he measured before transplant.  In the last three weeks, Jeff’s labs showed his hemoglobin at 11 or greater on four of the six days it was tested.  Yesterday’s count was .2 higher than the highest measurement since his BMT.  At 11.3, it is still lower than normal (standard range is 13.5 to 17.5) but let’s keep our fingers crossed that this is the beginning of a positive trend!

Day 105 – Loosening Up The Reins

This morning we headed into the city for Jeff’s appointment with Nurse Jackie.  There was more traffic on I95 than there has been at 7:30 to 8:30 a.m. and Jeff speculated that the people who took Fridays off in the summertime were now back to their regular schedules. 

You might think that the tedious drive would raise Jeff’s blood pressure but it measured just fine in the doctor’s office.  It always does there.  Yet at home the nurses get readings that are quite alarming.  They express concern at each visit.  We had a lot of time to consider this phenomenon while we waited for Jackie.  Jeff theorized that when the nurse arrives at the house, Giblet starts barking, probably causing his blood pressure to become elevated.  On Monday, we’ll test the theory by putting Giblet out back as soon as we see the nurse drive up to the house.  We don’t know whether it is healthy, in any case, for his BP to be that high. 

At the Perelman Center, Jeff had a lot of blood drawn for several tests, beyond what is done for him routinely.  Then we waited for Jackie.  And we waited.  And we waited.  Jeff sat forward in his chair and rested his chin in the cup of his hand and then remarked on the quantity of skin that he inadvertently brushed off his face.  Although he used his “lotions and potions” this morning, his skin seemed to be snowing off his face. 

Finally, Jackie sashayed in and immediately noticed Jeff’s white, flaky skin.  He said, “My face is falling off.”  And he assured her that he was using his creams as ordered.  She wanted to see his infected toe and before he had his shoe off, it became apparent that she is squeamish about loose toenails.  She recommended Epsom salts which evidently work as an antibiotic and will help the nail lift off.

We discussed Jeff’s medications.  She laid out the Tacrolimus taper.  This would mean one fewer pill tonight and each night, then gradually lower dosages until he is completely off the immunosuppressant - if everything goes according to plan - by early December.  As his new immune system takes over, we will have to watch for signs of GVHD: tea-colored urine or yellow skin, for example.  Jeff is weaning himself off his Neurontin (nerve pain pill) and Ambien (sleep aid).  Only three pills will be required tonight! 

Jackie reported Jeff’s blood counts.  His hemoglobin was the highest level it has been since his diagnosis; not in the normal range but encouraging nevertheless.  I think this fact alone has helped my jaw relax and will have to do for now since we may not know the results of the biopsy until Jeff’s visit with Dr. Porter on September 20^th.  Jackie gave us a new list of do’s and don’ts:  yes to restaurants, no to buffets; yes to fresh fruit and vegetables but not at restaurants where we cannot control the care taken to wash them. 

When Jackie went across the hall to retrieve the stainless steel treatment cart for the biopsy, we overheard a conversation she had with another patient.  The poor man was trying very hard to persuade Jackie to allow him to lay in fetal position for his bone marrow biopsy.  (That happens to be Dr. Kennedy’s preferred position; she is as short as Jackie is.)    The man said his back had been too sore after his last biopsy and he felt strongly that his position during the procedure was the reason.  She tried to negotiate a “compromise” but we could tell she was not even trying to be flexible.  She told the man that pregnant patients sometimes lay on their sides.  He began to insist he was pregnant!

Jackie wheeled the cart into the room and had Jeff lay face down on the examination table with his pants dropped a little.  While Jackie opened her biopsy kit, Jeff asked a series of questions to clarify his new liberties:

 

“Can I cook?”

“Yes,” said Jackie.

“Can I clean?”

“Yes.”

Can I wash dishes?”

“Yes.”

“Can I do laundry?”

“Yes.”

“Can I work in my shop?”

“Y- ummm…  What do you do in your shop?”

“Darn,” Jeff said.  “I should have snuck that one in the middle.”

“I’m a mother,” Jackie replied.  “I look for those sandwiches.”

“I make spoons on a lathe,” Jeff said.

I told her that he used to make custom kitchen cabinets, some of which were shown in magazines.  He said, “Now I make spoons.”  She said she thought it would be alright to try, if he uses common sense and wears a mask.

Jeff felt that the needle to numb his back was more painful than the other five bone marrow biopsies he has had in the last year.  Soon, however, Jackie was drilling and probing and Jeff could not feel much.  She drew out a core sample (I don’t know the medical term but you get the idea) and dropped it into a test tube.  “See that on the sides of the test tube?” she said to me.  I saw blood-tinged, thick, white-ish goo sloshed along the sides. Jeff didn’t care to look.  “They’re the stem cells,” Jackie said smiling.  “It looks really, really good.”  Let’s hope the lab finds them as “attractive.”

We were happy to be finished at the Perelman Center.  It had taken all morning.  We went to Kim’s apartment then went out for lunch, Jeff’s first restaurant meal since May!  He had a Reuben and fries. 

On the way home, Jeff reflected on his last year of treatment.  “I wonder how I would be if I hadn’t had been diagnosed when I was.  I can’t help wonder whether I would have been better off without treatment.  Yet I know that can’t be so.”  I asked him a question that my sister, Tracy, posed to me last night on the phone.  “After your March hospitalization, you said that you would never do chemo again except for the pre-transplant conditioning.  If you were told you had to have chemo again would you do it?”  I wondered whether it really was as like childbirth as Tracy once suggested; after enough time has passed, you forget the previous experience enough to consider doing it all again.  He said, “Well, what are you gonna do?”  Come what may. 

When we got home, we started Jeff’s IV infusion.  Jeff had hoped Jackie would have found it unnecessary to continue these.  I reminded Jeff that oral magnesium gave him digestive problems and the present plan, magnesium in the IV plus two pills a day, seems to work well.  Jeff slept and I was too exhausted to do the cleaning I usually do while he is being infused.

This week it seemed to me that Jeff was doing better.  He has been working hard to reduce the amount of time he spends napping and he is finding ways to be productive around the house.  His desire to get back in the shop is an indication of improvement, I think.  There might be a better way to describe how we both feel: tentative joy?  We decided it isn’t a kick-up-your-heels kind of joy, just a peaceful, tentative, low-key joy.

Jeff has plans to have breakfast with Dan tomorrow morning and we have visitors lined up all weekend.  That is good.  We need our people.  And I don’t have to worry about getting all the cleaning done on the weekend because now I have a house-husband capable of taking care of household chores!  Awesome!

Day 102 – Changing Habits

Keith starts back to school this week and today was Jeff’s first day on his own.  I arranged to go into work a little late so that I was sure he was hooked up to his IV before I left.  Jeff was in such a hurry to prove that he could do it himself that he plugged in the IV when I left the room for a minute.  I was surprised that he did it so fast.  Some things should not be rushed!  He said, “Uh-oh.”  I said, “What?”  He said, “There are still three syringes on the table.”  There should have been two but he forgot to flush the line with saline before starting.  Oh, well.  Nurse Susan was expected later; she could use the saline syringe for the blood draw.

My brother, Harry, visited Jeff this morning.  He reported on the family reunion that we missed this weekend.  He and Jeff talked cars, trucks and other guy stuff.  That certainly helped Jeff pass the time. 

Jeff said he wished he could do more.  He is starting to talk about small projects he can do.  I like to think that means he is feeling better.  Whenever I ask him whether he does feel any better he says, “I don’t know.  I still don’t feel right.”  It’s a mystery.  Friday’s biopsy should tell us something.

After dinner, Jeff suggested we go to Talbots to spend my birthday gift card from Kerry and Theresa.  I selected a beautiful silk floral blouse.  As we drove out of the parking lot, I realized I hadn’t checked the care label to see if it was “Dryclean Only.”  Jeff thought it probably was so he fumbled in the bag to check the label and confirmed his suspicion.  Since Jeff’s first career in the family drycleaning business is the likely source of the solvent exposure that lead to his disease, I try very hard to avoid buying garments that need to be drycleaned.  Jeff thought it would be possible to handwash the blouse but we returned to the store to make sure.  The sales lady said she runs her silk blouses on the gentle cycle in the washing machine and said I could return the blouse if I had any problems doing the same.  She also told us about organic drycleaners that are popping up.  No chemical smell, she says.

The rainy weather is expected to last all week so Jeff suggested we hit the mall for a little exercise.  For some reason, his stomach feels better after we walk and he was in need of some tummy relief.  We thought the mall wouldn’t be too crowded on a rainy Tuesday night and we were right.  We left my purse in the car so that we wouldn’t be tempted to shop.  We parked at Sears and walked through the store.  As we walked by a shoe display, Jeff instinctively picked up a pair of kids’ sneakers to see whether they were the crazy new ones with spinners he’d seen advertised.  As soon as he picked it up he groaned, “Probably 2,000 people picked up that shoe before me.”  He’d been careful to sit on a chair at Talbots without touching the arms of the chair and then POOF! all that care was forgotten by long-held habit. One hundred days is long enough to establish new habits but, perhaps, not long enough to change 52-year-old ones.

Day 101 – How We Celebrated Day 100

Yesterday Jeff, Keith and I went to church, Jeff’s first time since May.  Jeff can skip the mask and gloves now but he wore them to church anyway in case our friends wanted to give him lots of hugs and kisses.  Some did; some were reluctant.  Although I had tried to keep Jeff up-to-date with the changes at church - the parking lot re-surfacing, for example - he noticed that the altar table was bare.  It has been bare all through Pentecost, all summer.  Jeff had custom-built the altar and pulpit by combining wood from the pews, pulpit and communion rails of two churches when the two congregations merged.  It is often covered with paraments, covering its beautiful, curved shape.  He was pleased to see it, I think. 

It felt good to have Jeff beside me in the pew; I was far less emotional than when I am there alone.  All through the service I worried that sitting in the pews and standing and sitting, etc. was physically taxing for Jeff.  I checked a few times and he said he was alright.  Well into the service, I glanced at Jeff’s face and saw that a hymn had touched him, he had tears in his eyes.  He had to remove his mask to blow his nose.  Seeing his or anyone else’s tears would usually have affected me, too.  Amazingly, I wept only a little bit.  It just felt so right to be there together.  He admitted in the car on the way home that it was very difficult.  Easier for me, hard for him…

We went for a walk sans mask and gloves.  It felt a little less like I was walking the neighborhood with a mystery man.  This will take some getting used to.  And it occurred to us that bank tellers will no longer hover near their panic buttons when Jeff enters the bank. 

We bought a new grill grate for Jeff’s first grilled food - chicken and peppers with lemon butter.  Jeff put the food on the grill and Keith took over the cooking thereafter.  Jeff said his first bite had a satisfactory grilled-food taste. 

Finally, to celebrate Day 100, Jeff wrote to his beautiful, anonymous, 35-year old female donor:

Dear BMD (Bone Marrow Donor),

Today is Day 100.  Hopefully by now you are fully recovered from the ordeal of donating marrow for me and your life is back to normal.  My family and I are so grateful that you helped me. 

My life is changed far more than my expectations even though my doctor told me that BMT recovery would be “one lousy year followed by, hopefully, many more good ones.”  Reading the blogs of other BMT patients has made me realize that my experience was not as bad as some. 

To celebrate Day 100 we rolled out the area rugs in our house.  They had been cleaned and stored to make it easier for my family to keep the floors clean during my early recovery.  This morning I went to church for the first time since May.  My friends were glad to see me there and it was pretty emotional.  For dinner we plan to have grilled chicken, the first food grilled outside that I have had all summer long.  I can now leave the house without mask and gloves.  I look forward to relaxing my food restrictions and eliminating some of the many pills from my daily regimen.

My hair is growing back and is about 5/8” long!  I have some skin issues due to Graft versus Host Disease and some stomach discomfort.  I am getting stronger and can walk 1 to 1.5 miles each day. 

I hope you will write to me soon.

Your BMR (Bone Marrow Recipient)

Day 100 – 100 Thanks to 100 People!

Day 100 marks the end of Jeff’s “early recovery” following his bone marrow transplant on May 27^th.  Mask and gloves can go!  The neutropenic diet can be relaxed.  Woo Hoo!

To commemorate Day 100, Jeff and I want to thank 100 people (111 people, actually) for their willingness to help our family.  My coworkers at Rider University donated vacation and personal days to me so that I could have paid time to take care of Jeff.  My own leave time ran out following Jeff’s six-week hospital stay for his transplant, his second extended hospital stay in four months.  More time was donated than Rider’s policy allows and Jeff and I are grateful for each offer, regardless of whether it was taken or not.  The donated time meant not only continued income but also that my health care premiums continued to be covered through payroll deductions.  That is no small thing for a BMT patient!

When I returned to work at the end of July, I mentioned to Helen, a friend at Rider, that I wanted to write hand-written thank you notes to the lovely people who donated days to me.  At the time, I only knew that it was “a lot of people.”  Helen was shocked and blurted, “You can’t do that!”  I asked, “Why not?”  She said, “That’s too many people!”  I told her it seemed like the polite thing to do. I hadn’t seen the list of people yet. 

When Debbie, the Director of my department, gave me the list, I cried.  She cried with me (so much for her tough-gal image).  On that list are names of people I know well, some I barely know and some I have not met.  Some are caring for family members themselves.  Some are cancer survivors.  They are fellow AFSCME union members, administrators and facilities workers.  They are from both the Lawrenceville and Westminster campuses.  They are from departments across the university:  Disbursements (my office), Enrollment, HR, OIT, Athletics, Cash Management, Budget, Auxiliary Services, the Dean’s Office, the Vice President’s Office, Mail Services, Moore Library, Residence Life, CIE, academic departments and more. 

Holding that list felt like I was holding a treasure.  Now I understood why Barb, my supervisor, described our office as having a “revolving door” when the request for donated time was sent out.  She said that many of these people came to the office personally to offer their time and to ask about Jeff.

I took the list home and showed it to my family.  Over dinner I shared what I knew about these kind people.  We celebrated my job at Rider and the generosity of the employees there.  Four years ago - on the day after Labor Day, in fact - I began working at Rider University and how glad I am for it! 

Jeff has been known to moan when I bring home another “deal” from the Rider store or a free T-shirt from a Rider event.  He insists he has enough Rider attire (Is there such a thing?).  During his hospital stay he wore a few Drexel shirts - two of our children are alum - and a lot of Rider shirts.  One nurse asked him, “What’s with all the Rider shirts?”  Jeff pointed to his shirt and said, “Hey!  These people are taking care of me!”  We are grateful for good health insurance and for the compassion of the Rider community.

Love and 100 thanks to my coworkers at Rider University!