bone marrow transplant
When I was diagnosed with leukemia in 1991, the doctor told me to go home and prepare my bucket list. While there was a cure for my disease -- a bone marrow transplant -- I would nonetheless die because I'd never find a matching donor.
So even though I was missing some of that precious sleep time last night when my transplant anniversary made itself known, I had to smile in that memory, that amazing chance I was given at a second life. And I snuggled up under my favorite cotton blanket, the very same that kept me warm in my transplant room so long ago.
A year and a half later, I haven't heard how my bone-marrow recipient is doing. Delete Blood Cancer hasn't come back to me asking for another bone marrow donation, so I'm hoping that's a good thing and that she's doing great. But if they do call me back, whether it's for her or someone else, I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
The pair fittingly danced to “Angels Among Us” by Alabama.
How can we build on such efforts? We might start by educating African-American physicians, who tend to have an easier time overcoming the distrust of patients of color and can pass on good information.
Almost exactly seven years ago, on February 28, 2008, Penn State Assistant Track Coach, Fritz Spence, was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia (AML). Five months after his diagnosis, following Fritz's second failed round of chemotherapy, Wade Spence donated marrow to his brother.
Bill Erickson owes his life to an altruistic stranger in Germany -- and the algorithm that helped find him.
I met Andrea when she was hospitalized in Seattle undergoing her first transplant, now four years ago. What was and remains remarkable about Andrea is her sparkling determination, courage and her seemingly endless ability to tap in to positive side of almost everything.