In the two months since Jeff’s last oncology visit his platelets took a nosedive from 157,000 in January to 28,000 in March. Two days later, 18,000 and three days after that, 7,000 at which point he began to receive platelet transfusions. His other blood counts were decent but treatment will take care of that – things will get worse before they get better.
Jeff spent a week in Penn’s beautiful new Pavilion for a repeat of the treatment he’d been given when he relapsed in 2020. This is in preparation for something. Maybe another bone marrow transplant. Maybe something else. In three weeks, another bone marrow biopsy will help Dr. Porter to decide what to do next.
Jeff was excited when he realized he would be in the new hospital, the one he watched being built from the underground up over the last several years while at Penn for doctor visits and treatments.
“I want a room with a view!” he told Dr. Porter.
"Jeff, it’s still a hospital,” Dr. Porter insisted. “With hospital food.”
Upon entering the 12th floor room, the view - downtown, the river, trains - and the 5-star-hotel-towel-folds belied the fact that it was, indeed, a hospital room. It had glass doors and a window that frosted for privacy at the switch of button - no fussy privacy curtains. There was ample space for the table and two chairs where we could comfortably share a meal. When I napped on the sofa a nurse covered me with a blanket. This hospital was designed for the family as well as for the patient.
As usual, Jeff finds humor in the situation. His brother, Greg, and sister-in-law Palmer visited him at the hospital after he’d been given a special something to reduce the fluids he was retaining from treatment. He sat up in his bed, got his feet firmly under him, stood up unsteadily, unplugged the IV pole and pushed it to the bathroom… then returned to bed, plugged the IV pole back in, flopped down and reached out to grab the tubing to prevent it from yanking the needle in his arm. He began laughing when he realized that he, at present, was not even connected to the IV pole!
The seriousness of the situation is turning his humor more towards gallows style:
“Three strikes and I’m out.”
He told Friend Michael that relapse is "Amy's excitement. She won’t get any other kind from me.”
And about his gorgeous hospital room, “People are dying for that view.”
Once at home he wasn’t able to concentrate on TV shows. He paged a magazine. I left a small load of laundry for him to fold. Ah, now there’s something to do. As he folded, he asked Alexa to play “Leader of the Laundromat” by The Detergents and “Once in Love with Amy” from Where’s Charley. He amused himself requesting old tunes for quite a while.
Jeff and I wonder whether this time around is more stressful than the others or if it just seems so. Most disappointing to Jeff is that he won’t be able to watch our granddaughters although their regular video calls lift his spirits. Calls from friends and family have been welcome.
We anticipate trips to the city for transfusions three times a week. Many thanks to anyone who has ever donated blood or platelets. Likewise, we thank Donor Nicole for whom this set-back has to have been a blow. She continues to offer help. She has given us so much time, so much life already and we love her for it.
We will try to keep our cool in the coming days and weeks and ask for your prayers.
