Yesterday, as my girls and I were playing outside, I noticed that a hummingbird had flown into our garage.  He was banging and banging that fragile little beak against the glass, obviously not understanding why he could see freedom, but not get there.  Poor, pathetic creature, I thought, and grabbed our pool skimmer from the rack.  I reached up with the long skimmer, attempting to shepard the bird in the opposite direction--towards real freedom, but he began to panic more and increased his velocity against the window.  I started to talk to him, "calm down, birdie, you're going to kill yourself doing that.  Turn around, come on, turn around."

 "Mom," said Bri, my 5 year old, "why isn't he doing what you want?"

"Because he's scared of me, honey," I said.

"Why?  You're trying to help him, " Bri stated the obvious.  

"Yes, but he doesn't trust me.  He thinks I'll hurt him."  I answered.  The minutes ticked by and my frustration increased.  "Bird, you've got another 30 seconds before I give up on you," I told him (Claire had just begun to throw water balloons at my car--duty was calling).  

It was as if he heard me.  Exhausted, he landed on the pool skimmer and I turned just enough to allow him another perspective and he flew towards it, to freedom.   

This bird, and the conversation with Brianna, stirred something within me on the soul level.  How much am I like this bird sometimes?  Stuck on one perspective, my mind not able to comprehend why things are so scary and hopeless.  What if this thing reaching out to me hurts me?  I think what I'm doing on my own is going to work....but I'm just getting so tired.  Eventually, I'll get exhausted, then resign myself to landing on what is reaching out to me.  And when I do, I find that instead of hurting me, it has set me free.  And like the bird who cannot understand the human mind, neither can I understand the mind of my God, who wants to help me, but can only do so if I allow it.

Fear and trust, trust and fear.  What's that song?  "Around and around and around and around we go.  Tell me now, tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know"  (to you old fogies, that's Rihanna).  So here I go again, on this dance with fear.
We found fresh plasmacytomas on Kev's body late last week.  Fresh, meaning new since the transplant.  This news is not scary in and of itself.  We new that he needed the donor transplant and a whole new immune system, and we knew we shouldn't wait very long after the transplant (after all, it was 21 days after his first transplant that we found it in his brain).  What's scary for me is how aggressive and fast this moves.  Only day +29 since he had a procedure that is designed to buy people years of life.   Kev received Matt's cells on Friday, and while we wait for Matt's cells to engraft, we're also now allowing this cancer to continue mobility inside his body.  
The PET scans were repeated and the results were mixed.  ALL the plasmacytomas from before BEAM/transplant #2 were gone.  The brain is completely clear (hallelujah!), and his bones look good (no cancer activity within the bones right now).  But there are these new plasmacytomas (numerous ones) indicating that the cancer is on the move--and it moves fast.  Because of this, the docs aren't going to keep him immuo-suppressed as long as they would the typical patient.  As soon as they see engraftment, they're going to pull back on he immuno-suppression drugs to get that Graft vs. cancer effect going ASAP.  
Of course, along with this comes Graft vs. Host (GVHD) symptoms.  We don't know what these will look like yet because we're waiting for engraftment, but statistically Kev has a 33% chance of getting acute GVHD symptoms, which are most typically skin rashes, intestinal problems, and liver issues.  

In general, Kev is feeling okay right now.  He has some negative side effects from the Total Body Irradiation and chemo from last week, mostly nausea and fatigue, but he has medicines that help and he is laying low.  Bri is starting kindergarten next Wednesday and we're nervous and excited that this time is here.  The doc okayed Kev attending the kindergarten orientation tomorrow night, so we will be meeting her new teacher and seeing her classroom.  Time moves on with or without fear, I suppose.  

Pray that Kev and I will keep reaching for His help with blind faith that will place us on a path to freedom, even when we cannot see.  

God bless.  Keep the prayers coming (for my non-praying friends, keep that positivity coming!), and keep the faith.

Love, Kristin



                                                    Nurse Jackie.  We love her.

Crowded room!  Transplant doc, Dr.Williams, bottom left. 

 Getting Matt's cells.