July 14th

July 3, 2008 My memory has been tugging at the date, July 14, since yesterday when Dr. Jackson's office told me that I had an appointment at Duke University Medical Center that day for a second opinion. Finally this morning I remembered. July 14th is Bastille Day in France. A remembrance of the storming of the Bastille during the French Revolution. What an image. Violence, full of fury, a desparate act of despair and hope. Dramatic? Yes. Yet what part of these past six months and this process have not been filled with the component dramas of the human condition? Filled with hope. And filled with a sadness near despair. There have been strategies blown apart, plans pushed aside, justice questioned. Personal drama against the backdrop of a flawed system and the solidarity of love. So, we move on.

Moving On

July 2, 2008 This morning I woke at 5:45 a.m., fortified myself with bacon and eggs at Cracker Barrel and by 8:15 I had parked myself at Dr. Jackson's office door, determined to leave with a referral for a second opinion on my situation. When they told me he was still on vacation and wouldn't return until the 15th, my heart sank. But I'm learning the gentle art of squeaking like a slightly annoying but still serviceable wheel. Soon I'd had a blood count and was in possession of a referral via Dr. Jackson's PA, Margaret. So, on Monday, July 14 I'll go to Duke Medical Center, Bone Transplant Center for a consult with Dr. Rizzieri, called "the best of the best at Duke". Doing something and taking some action has definitely helped my general well being. Also my blessed bone marrow continues to make hemaglobin in the face of disease and general mess. And the help of lovely people at Dr. Jackson's office. And the prayers and kind wishes. All to the good.

The Next Step

Tuesday, July 1, 2008 Amy Staton, the PR and insurance person at Givens Estates, called tonight. Here is the next step. Tomorrow morning (Wednesday) at first light I call Dr. Jackson, my hematologist/oncologist here in Asheville, and ask him to send me for a second opinion. This could be to Duke or Chapel Hill. Or even Emory. But it will be a transplant center who does the donor transplant with reduced intensity chemotherapy. I'll take my file (there's so much paperwork now I'll probably need a U-Haul Truck) and myself to this second opinion. If the second opinion speaks agreement with Dr. Hurd at Wake Forest, then I'm almost certainly a go for transplant. If the second opinion says I need to wait, that's probably what will happen. So, we're in motion again. What a journey! If, when all this is over and I'm healthy again, I EVER complain about the normal, the daily round of stuff, please take my hand, write me on my web site, or call and say firmly, "Jane, let's take a moment and remember 2008." I will immediately return to a place of gratitude for normalcy, for summertime, all the time, mountains filled-with-friendship realities. Regular days filled with friends, good work, with a big black cat and my home. Normal. Regular. For tonight the edge of surreal feels slightly less sharp.