Fight Song

There’s a song by Rachel Platten called “Fight Song”. It’s kinda become an anthem for many cancer patients even though its not really about a physical illness. Music speaks to me...which I suppose is why it was my undergrad major. I thrive on listening to music. I especially tend to focus on the lyrics but also the beat, tempo, and instrumentation. I’ll listen to anything other than hard core rap. If you were to see my playlists on my phone, you’d see everything from Ella Fitzgerald to Eminem and literally everything in between. If you’re a music geek like me, you may have even noticed that every blog entry has a song name as a title. I know, its silly, but when you constantly have a song stuck in your head like I do, its easy to associate music with everyday life. I’m like a human jukebox! Now if only I could make money with my quirkiness....

Anyway, when you have a stem cell transplant, one of the best things you can do to speed recovery is to walk. No matter how awful you feel, try to get out of bed and at least walk around your room. Look out the window, sit up in a chair, walk the halls if you can. Do whatever you can do each day to get out of bed as much as you can. I promise you it will help you both physically and mentally. Now, if you’re like me, you’ll get bored easily. Same hallways day after day. I was bored after the first 5 minutes so I needed something else to focus on besides the tile floor, the indescript hospital smell and the IV pole constantly alongside me. So I made myself a Walking Playlist. Thought I’d share some of my favorite songs in case you needed a Walking Playlist...or maybe you just want some new music. Actually, many of the songs are not that new. Also, many are by Christian artists so I’ll break it into secular and Christian.

CHRISTIAN ARTISTS/SONGS
-Held by Natalie Grant
-Blessings by Laura Story
-What Faith Can Do by Kutless
-Hope in Front of Me by Danny Gokey
-Worn by Tenth Avenue North
-It Is Well by Bethel Music & Kristine DeMarco
-Trust In You by Lauren Diagle
-Need you Know by Plumb
-Just Be Held by Casting Crowns
-Where Were you by Francesca Battistelli
-Unfinished by Mandisa
-Overcomer by Mandisa

SECULAR ARTISTS/SONGS
-Brave by Sara Bareilles
-Roar by Katy Perry
-You and I by Lady Gaga
-Bruises by Train
-Sing by Ed Sheehan
-Late In The Evening by Paul Simon
-Sometimes you Can’t Make It On your Own by U2
-Blank Space by Taylor Swift
-Lips Are Movin by Megan Trainor
-Accentuate the Positive by Bing Crosby
-Be OK by Ingrid Michaelson
-Carry On by FUN
-Fix You by Coldplay
-Just A Ride by Jem
-Keep Breathing by Ingrid Michaelson
-Stay by Rihanna
-This’ll Be My Year by Train
-Honey, I”m Good by Andy Grammer
-Shut Up and Dance by Walk The Moon
-Somebody To Love by Queen
-Fight Song by Rachel Platten
-Bennie and the Jets by Elton John
-Keep your Head Up by Andy Grammer
-Better When I’m Dancin by Megan Trainor
-Uptown Girl by Billy Joel
-Stormy Weather by Judy Garland
-You Look Good by Lady Antebellum
-Walk On Water by Aerosmith
-I Gotta Feeling by BLack Eyed Peas
-Fighter by Christina Aguilera
-Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and the Waves
-Monday Monday by Mamas and the Papas
-Fire and Rain by James Taylor
-King of New York from Newsies Musical
-Dancing Queen by ABBA

So, its quite a list. Every song spoke to me either with the lyrics (particularly the Christian ones) or brought back good memories or was just an upbeat song that helped me pass the time. While this isn’t the most insightful post, I hope that it is helpful if you’re looking for some music to use while you walk those halls.

The Good The Bad and the Ugly Part 3: The Good

I cannot emphasize enough that even though this experience had a lot of bad, a lot of ugly and a lot of unpleasantness; there was still an awful lot of good that came out of it. Please, keep reading.

1) Love and support from everywhere. No, really, from everywhere. We had meals coming in every other day and we could’ve had everyday if needed. We had babysitters, errand runners, house cleaners, grass mowers, prayer warriors, rides to appointments and support for my husband and kids from their friends who took them out for fun when they needed a break. From the day I was first diagnosed all the way past when I returned home from the isolation after transplant there were people offering help of every kind. The potty seat broke in the middle of the work week, one of Dan’s colleagues recognized the urgency of a broken potty seat with three boys under age 5 and hurried to the store to get a new one. What was truly amazing was the monetary donations that came. We initially were quite concerned with the cost of all of this. I was in the hospital for weeks at a time repeatedly. The amount of tests I had done is astronomical. Dr visits, ER visits, an ambulance ride, 3 months in a Marriot Residence Inn, medical supplies, home health visits, blood products, the list is never ending. We prayed and planned for the worst but our prayers were answered. On more than one occasion, we would get a very large medical bill and within 24 hours a donation would come in or a grant award would come through. When I was all said and done, we almost broke even. It was truly a miracle. Our very young kids didn’t have to go to daycare because my mother in law and father in law were both recently retired and were willing to take turns living with us. Things often were done before we even realized we needed something. Without the love and support of our family, friends, church, schools, colleagues and community we would not have survived financially or mentally! If you are going through a stem cell transplant, you and your caregiver will need help. There are organizations that can help you if you don’t have a support system in your community of family and friends. Reach out. Don’t do it alone.

2) I grew up as a good LCMS Lutheran. I went to church most Sundays and attended a Lutheran school from grades K-8 and a Lutheran college. I knew all about God and Christianity and everything I thought I needed. That is, until I faced death. Funny how God works. The day prior to my diagnosis, I had said “I just need a break”. I needed a break from parenting, cleaning, cooking..you get the idea. What I meant was a break on a tropical island or at the very least a solid uninterrupted 10 minutes in a bubble bath without anyone needing me. God sure gave me a break. I didn’t cook or clean or parent for close to 2 years. And yet, not once was I mad at God. I was hopeless, I was sad, I was angry at leukemia, I was lonely, I was angry at the doctors and nurses who couldn’t answer my questions but I was not angry at God. Not sure why I wasn’t because in the past God has been the target of my anger but not this time. I knew God was the only way I was going to get through this. My faith is so much stronger now than it was before. And for that, I am thankful.

3) When my boys make a mess or there are piles of laundry or everyone is hungry at once I get overwhelmed and sometimes irritated just as any mother does at times. However, it lasts such a short time because I remind myself that I’m here to do the laundry and clean the mess and make the meals and I’m thankful. There was a time when I couldn’t do that and it wasn’t certain that I would ever be able to do it because my survival was hanging in the balance. It could’ve gone either way. So today, I’m thankful for the loads of laundry and the crumbs all over the floor and the never ending grocery shopping and meal prep. There is nothing I pray for more than to be given the privilege to raise my children, grow old with the love of my life and to meet my grandchildren and maybe even great grandchildren. I appreciate the little things. In the long run, the little things make all the difference.

4) When you have an allo stem cell transplant, you have to be in isolations for 100 days post transplant and you must have a caregiver with you at all times. That’s a lot of time to talk to someone. Lucky for my friends and family, I had a wonderful cast of caregivers that took turns. Nobody was stuck with me for too long! During that time, I was blessed with getting to know my family better and making bonds stronger. Friends from years and years ago came to visit and it felt like we saw each other yesterday despite it being over a decade since I saw some of them. Never will I be able to say I am not loved. I am . My family is. God is so good.

5) I’ve mentioned old friends but I’ve made some great new friends as well. The nurses and doctors that saved my life have had some great conversations with me. One particular nurse, Alneta, held me while I sobbed on more than one occasion as I tried to emotionally deal with my situation. The family of a fellow transplant recipient walked with me in the hallways and visited with my caregivers. When their own family member sadly did not survive, they generously gave my family their parking tokens and a monetary donation. We still exchange Christmas cards. There are friends that are going through a transplant after I did or will be in the near future and I’m able to answer their questions and be here to support them. It is truly amazing how many people the leukemia has brought into my life.

6) Clarity. Prior to all of this craziness, I was searching for what I was meant to be. Why was I put on this earth? What was my purpose. God has given me not one but two second chances at this life. I thought my initial diagnosis was the end. I came though. When I relapsed and endured the transplant, the chances were less than promising that my life would continue. Yet, here I am typing this while my boys and I watch “A Bug’s Life”. Amazing. I’m here to be a mom, a wife, a friend, a daughter, niece, sister, cousin and to help. We, as a family, were given so much. Now I want to give back. I want to make a difference. Today, I live my life with a purpose: to raise my boys to make this world a better place. Not always sure I’m doing a good job but at least I know I”m trying.

7) Laughter. There are few people who can make me laugh so hard that I nearly wet my pants (ok, fine...I may have leaked a little). But the ones who can all managed to do so while I endured the trials and tribulations of leukemia. Trisha, my oldest friend who has been a part of my life since we threw sand at each other at the kindergarten sand table, came to visit me as often as she could. The nurses would see her coming down the hall and usually just close my door behind her because the knew the laughter would be loud. We laughed about everything and that was exactly what I needed. Shortly after I had returned home from my final chemo round in 2015, we had a party our house to celebrate. My chance of relapse wasn’t high so I thought we were done with leukemia. I was wronge of course, but we celebrated with great joy and hope that it was behind us. There is a group of friends from college that we’ve hung out with for years and when we get together, its a guaranteed good time. We played Cards Against Humanity. If you’ve ever played that, you’ll know you can only play it in certain company. This was the company such a game was accepted. I laughed and laughed and laughed and again, it was what Dan and I needed. Laughter is wonderful medicine. Especially when shared with friends.

Oh, and last but certainly not least...I lost 70 pounds. My weight has been trouble my entire life. Always the chubby one, the one with beautiful eyes, the girl with “curves” (aka...rolls). I’d tried losing and toning and all that stuff you’re supposed to do. Never worked well. I was a size 18 and nothing was going to change that apparently. Then leukemia and chemo and stem cell transplant came along and lo and behold...I”m a size 10. Now if only I arrived here in a more humane way. Again, God, when I asked for help with my weight loss, this wasn’t what I had in mind...but your plan is always best so thanks. I guess. Seriously though, I”m actually at a perfect weight for my height and I plan to stay that way.

You know how Oprah has her “Favorite Things”? Well, here are my favorite things that I’ve discovered as a result of transplant: heated throw blankets, Blistex, eye drops, yoga pants, fresh flowers, homemade soup, graham crackers crushed up with milk, ice cream, walking in nature, devotions and time with God, Hulu and board games. These are the things that got me through some tough times. And now, I keep them all on hand or make sure I experience it as often as possible.

And with that, I must say Goodnight because I have a jammed packed day of helping in my kindergartener’s classroom, taking my 4 year old to the doctor and having family over for dinner tomorrow. Mundane you say? No way. These things are important because I could not do them even last year. Classrooms and doctors offices and cleaning for guests were off limits until more recently. So I treasure these times that I can do these things. Have a wonderful night.

The Good, The Bad and the Ugly Pt 2: the Bad

You’ll be happy to know that this post isn’t quite as forthcoming with personal details as the previous post. No mention of anything below the waist!. So here’s the bad, again in no particular order:

1) Incredible weakness. I was not prepared for how weak I would be post transplant. When I moved into the hotel, I could not get up the 10 stairs to the upper room without stopping to rest. It took me well over half an hour to get dressed and brush my teeth because I had to sit down between each step. I did gain strength rapidly and could do more each day but I continued to need a nap each afternoon until around a year post transplant. Even today, my energy is not what it used to be prior to transplant. I require more sleep at night and I cannot do as much in a day as I used to.

2) No appetite or taste. The chemo and the acute GVHD really do a number on your desire to eat. The nausea itself is pretty bad but you add the mouth sores and the lack of taste buds on top of it and you end up with no desire to eat. In fact, eating became the least enjoyable part of my day. My poor family tried everything from Ensure and Boost to ice cream and jello. Some days I could get sherbert or a popsicle down but even those tasted bad. Of all things, pop tarts with TONS of water to drink seemed to work most days as well as chicken broth and sometimes ice cream if it wasn’t too sweet. I lost around 75 pounds by the time I was 6 months post transplant. The dry mouth and mouth sores were very very difficult and painful. I highly recommend ice chips and asking the nurses if they have a lidocaine mouthwash. Loyola did and it helped some but anything was better than nothing. The mouth sores had pretty much cleared by a month post transplant but then my tastebuds were not working and nothing tasted good and most things really tasted awful. I lived on soups, broths and ice cream for several months post transplant.

3) So many medications. At one point, I was taking 32 pills a day. Today, 21 months post transplant, I take 8 different medications and three supplements for a grand total of 19 pills a day. When I see my doctor on Monday, maybe I’ll be able to cut that down some. I can dream! The copays alone are expensive. Thankfully we have good insurance. On top of that, I still have three creams for various GVHD issues and during isolation, I had several more. Plus I had the Hickmann (similar to a PICC line but under my collarbone) which required daily flushing. My caregivers were all trained to do that and all did so wonderfully.

4) The restrictions. Seriously, the restrictions are unreal. Don’t do this. Don’t eat that. Don’t touch this, don’t go there. Basically, I lived in a bubble for months. For the first 100 days after transplant, I could not eat anything uncooked or anything that may not be cooked well. No fresh produce. No tap water. Nothing from a restaurant or fast food. My caregivers had to prepare all food for me. I wasn’t even allowed in the kitchen because my platelets were so low that a burn or cut would likely lead to heavy blood loss and/or major infections. I couldn’t eat yogurt or soft cheeses or lunch meats unless they were pre-packaged (think Oscar Meyer). No food could be “left over” more than 24 hours. There was literally several pages of guidelines for foods and food preparations that my caregivers had to follow. Then there was the visitor restrictions. Visitors had to remove shoes, wear a mask, wash hands and not sit near me or touch me. I couldn’t t go in public unless it was outdoors like walking around the hotel parking lot. There were restrictions about going outside after it rained (couldn’t for 24 hours), no wood burning fireplaces, had to leave room when housekeeping vacuumed, and I coudn’t be in contact with anyone who was even slightly ill. This meant that my three boys were not able to visit very often because they were often ill with runny noses or coughs or anything else that little kids typically get. When they could visit, they couldn’t actually come into my room so I visited them outside. I had to wear a hospital mask, gloves, gown and most visits could not hold or hug them. It was the worst thing for a mother to have to deal with.

5) Mortality. Heaven. My spouse remarrying. My children growing up without me. Someone else taking on the role of my children’s mother. These were all things that I had to consider as very real possibilities. There were 4 people in my cohort of stem cell transplants. Only 2 of us made it out of the hospital. This wasn’t a “you’ll be fine, its just painful” kind of procedure. This was a “have you thought about what you want to happen if you don’t make it” procedure. I had to have very difficult conversations with my husband about what I wanted my funeral to be like. What I wanted done if I were to die. That I didn’t want my child red to have to see me in a casket and I’d rather be cremated. I had to tell the love of my life that if I were to die, that I wanted him to be happy and move on and hopefully fall in love with someone else. My kids all had to learn about death and dying and heaven. They had many questions that took a lot of though to answer in a way that was honest but didn’t scare them. My middle son still has some residual anxiety from all of the things he had to deal with at such a young age. My youngest has no memory of me with my own real hair. My husband told me that at one point, he had planned to sell our home if he needed to if I were to die. Our home that he built with his own two hands from the ground up. Our home that we planned and worked on together. It broke my heart that he would even have to consider this but it was a distinct possibility that either we would need to downsize to pay the bills or that I would die and the memories we had in this home would be too much for him.

6) Missing out. I missed out on seeing my youngest’s first steps. My husband sent me video but it wasn’t the same. I missed my baby’s first steps. I missed his potty training (ok, that wasn’t so awful), I missed my oldest’s Mother’s Day Tea that his kindergarten class put on. I missed Christmas programs and field trips and birthday parties. When I add it all up, from initial diagnosis to the day I came home from isolation, I was either in the hospital or in isolation for about 32 weeks. From September 2014 to August 2016, I wasn’t even home for 32 of those weeks. That’s a lot of time to not be with your husband, children and in your home. When I was home, especially late 2014 and post transplant 2016, I was either too sick from chemo side effects or GVHD to do anything with my family. I finally feel like I’m a full time mom again. 21 months post transplant. Now I want to make up all the time I lost but some I cannot. Some is just lost and I have to accept that and move on while treasuring every moment I have with my boys and husband.

7) GVHD and Chemo side effects. Let me list all the things I have had as a result of the transplant and/or the chemo used for the transplant: alopecia (hair loss), extreme dry eyes, vision changes, dry mouth, weight loss, fatigue, low immune system, loss of appetite, skin rashes, extreme sun sensitivity, major bowel incontinence (see previous post), sexual issues (see previous post), short term memory loss from all of the chemo, skin peeled off bottom of feet and palms of hands in sheets of skin (gross..so gross), fingernails detached from nail bed while new ones grew underneath, residual cough that never goes away (from Bulsafan...a conditioning chemo), and probably others that I have forgotten. Today, my biggest lingering GVHD issues are the extreme dry eyes, vaginal issues and hair loss. I’ll never ever be the same as I was prior to transplant but I’m alive and mostly living a normal life.

So if you’ve read all of this, you’re either scared to death to go through with your own transplant or you’ve been through it and understand what I”m talking about. Or maybe you’re not dealing with AML directly but are a caregiver and this gives you an idea of what you may encounter. I urge you to read my next post... the GOOD part of all of this. Yes, there was much good. I promise to post that one very soon. Hang in there.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly Part 1: The Ugly

DISCLAIMER: this post has a lot of nitty gritty details and involves some rather personal issues. So, read it at your own risk...especially you male friends and family! That being said, I promised to be transparent and share all the details so those of you reading this who are facing a stem cell transplant will have an idea of what you’re getting yourself into.

BACKGROUND: Here’s the basic info about my procedure. I was diagnosed with AML NMP1 positive, FLT3 negative, subtype M4 at age 34. My initial chemo worked and I was in remission for about 19 months. I also had AML found in my cerebral spinal fluid and therefore had intrathecal chemo (and a permanent fancy pump in my scalp) and cranial radiation. I relapsed and again was given chemo to get me into remission before proceeding with a MUD allo (matched unrelated donor allogeneic) transplant. I did have both acute and chronic GVHD. Still dealing with the chronic.

I like to tackle things from worst to best. You know...clean toilets before sinks before mirrors. Eat your veggies before the steak. You get the idea. So lets start with the ugly. These are the absolute worst parts of the stem cell transplant process and after effects. So again, if you don’t want to hear about my girly parts or poop, avert your eyes until the next post.
Listed no particular order...they all are pretty awful.

1) It burns to pee, and sit, and stand, and walk. When I was given cytoxin, one of the conditioning chemos, it is so strong that it can and will burn the inside of your bladder. Therefore, they make you have a catheter so that the cytoxin doesn’t sit in your bladder at all. Thankfully, I only had to have the torture device,er, I mean catheter for a little over 48 hours. Remind me to tell you about the fun chemo that turns your pee blue. That was a chemo used to get me into remission after relapse. Those were the days...here’s a picture of that blue chemo.

2) The cytoxin also made everything hurt. My skin burned, my mouth burned, I had horrible headaches and I generally was in pain while the chemo was being administered for 3 hours for 2 days.

3) Uncontrollable bowels. When you get all the paperwork for a SCT (stem cell transplant), they give you a list of things to bring. On that list is Depends. Bah. I’m 36, why would I, a youngish lady, need old people diapers? OMGosh. Bring the Depends. Or be prepared to explain to the people you pass in the hallway why you have poop running down your legs. There is no control. The chemo somehow manages to make life extra miserable by giving you delightful diarrhea that has no warning and you’re seriously too weak to contract your sphincter to keep it in. No joke. Also, as a fun parting prize...this lasts for some time post transplant. Like months. I was horrified my first week at the hotel (isolation...explained later) when I got up to use the bathroom but found I couldn’t make it. When I returned home 3 months later, I was spending most of the morning in the bathroom because I couldn’t leave it. I learned to accept wearing Depends out in public and sadly, learned how to discreetly carry extra undies, Depends, and wipes with me wherever I went. I’m now an expert at changing and cleaning my lower half in all sorts of public restrooms. I can also tell you were most any public restroom is in NW Indiana! And, my poor children who were too young to leave outside the bathroom alone, had to witness this process too many times. Thank God they understood and didn’t give me much grief about it. To this day, 21 months post transplant, I still have to use the bathroom often and my boys get annoyed. However, I do have bowel control back finally.

4)My vagina is a ziplock bag. You know how you can read about all the side effects of something and say “that’s not going to happen to me”. Yeah. Me too. Vaginal GVHD started innocent enough. Dryness. Mild discomfort. Some narrowing. Oh but wait...that’s just the beginning. I went for a Pap smear a month ago and my gynecologist couldn’ get to my cervix because my upper third of my vaginal canal was stuck together. Like a ziplock back. Well, that’s just great. As if it wasn’t bad enough that the chemo put me into menopause, now I can’t get the IUD out! But why would you need an IUD if you’re in menopause? Well, because this isn’t your run of the mill menopaus. Oh no, this is chemo induced. This is special. This menopause can reverse itself at anytime it feels appropriate. So the IUD stayed in because the thought of relapsing while pregnant and having to choose between my child’s life and my own is too terrifying. So no more kids for me. I wanted one more. Maybe. But when they hung the initial bag of chemo back in 2014, the nurse said “you know this will likely sterilize you right?” “Have they given you fertility counseling?”. Uh...no? Nobody told me that at all. But kinda late now huh? Anways, I digress. Back to my ziplock. So now here I am with a hooha that’s 3 inches shorter than it should be with an IUD trapped inside. Not to mention the slim chance that my uterus at some point needs to vacate a load of menstration and will not have any way to do so. So next week I start a fun routine of estrogen and vaginal dilator use. Fun times.

5)My hair on my head never returned. I guess it was just too much chemo. So I sadly have accepted that wigs are my friend. My eye brows and eyelashes returned but not my head. I guess I should be thankful for what I got!

6) I was away from home from April 10th through July 30th. That’s a tremendously long time to be away from your husband, children (ages 2, 4, 6 at the time), and your pets. When you have a allo SCT, you have to be in isolation for 100 days post transplant. This meant that because I had small children, I couldn’t go home. I also had to be within 30 miles of Loyola and my home was 68 miles away. Loyola has contracts with several local long term stay hotels that follow specific guidelines for transplant patients. I stayed at the Residence Inn in Lombard, IL. I grew up in Lombard, so it will the closest I could get to “home”.

That’s enough for tonight. My children need me to say goodnight. I’m thankful to be here to do so. I’ll get to the “bad” in the net post. Good night!

December

As I sit by the fireplace on this extremely cold winter’s night, I am calm and content. It is the first December since 2013 that I can say that. December of 2014 was partially spent inpatient at Loyola getting another round of consolidation chemo. It was also the year that I had to go to the ER because my gums were spontaneously bleeding. I had been pretty miserable all of the week surrounding the Christmas holiday due to side effects from chemo. Chemo can cause mucousitis or, in layman terms, inflammation of mucosal linings. Typically this involves the mouth and throat but lucky me...it involved the other end of my digestive tract. That’s right, my booty. Talk about a pain in the butt...holy moly! I couldn’t sit, stand or lay down without searing pain. Miserable was an understatement. Chills and fatigue were also haunting me and of course I was neutropenic. The dr I had called to report this pain was not sympathetic at all and didn’t seem to have any help other than ibuprofen. It didn’t occur to her that it could be a side effect of chemo and said it was not chemo related. A couple days passed and it was December 30th. My sister looked at me and said “should your gums be bleeding?”. I dismissed it and fell back to sleep. When I got up to use the restroom, I was shocked at what I saw in the mirror. My gums had a red blood like goo oozing from them. I was also dizzy and my heart was fluttering. Of course my husband took me to the ER at Loyola and found that my platelets were below 5. Normal is above 150. My hemoglobin was hovering around just below 6. Thank God I didn’t get cut or in any sort of accident because I would’ve bled out. Thankfully I was given platelets and blood and sent home the following morning.

December 2015 was much better but I was fighting a nagging cough, fatigue and a head cold. I continually told myself that it was the workload of the holidays and the stress of worrying about relapse. I was, at that time, 14 months in continuous remission was told that I had a great prognosis at that point. Sadly, I found out a month later that I was in fact relapsing and all of those symptoms I had in December was the leukemia attacking me again.

December 2016 found me bald, too thin and weak. However, I’d been through and survived a stem cell transplant and was dealing with graft vs. host disease (GVHD). It was an amazing feeling to be alive but I was mourning the loss of my hair, my energy and the fear of relapse was still very present in my mind every single day.

Finally, December 2017 I am at ease. The risk of relapse is still there and I worry about it ever single day but I’ve come to accept m “new normal” and can live most days enjoying my children and husband and appreciating the life God has given me. Still bald, but have a nice wig. Not overly thin anymore but happy to be a healthy weight. My energy is never going to be what it was before leukemia but its increased dramatically since last year. This year I was able to truly and fully enjoy Christmas morning as my boys gleefully opened their gifts. It was magical and I’m blessed to be here to experience it.Each day I hope and pray fervently that I will be given many many more Christmas mornings here on earth.