Sorry that we haven’t posted in a few days. Michelle has been in the hospital getting her 3rd round of MEC (regular) chemotherapy and last round of intrathecal chemo (hooray!), which is targeting any cancerous cells in her central nervous system. Monday night was the first of three consecutive nights of receiving MEC chemo. Michelle’s side effects of sleepiness, achy-ness, and nausea are a reminder of how concentrated these doses are. Unfortunately, she’s also had a fever for the past couple of days, so the nurses took chest x-rays and a blood culture this morning with results TBD. When we wait for results from various tests like this one, I’m often hoping for a certain result. This time, I’m not sure what I should be hoping for, but i just want this fever to go away so my baby can go home and rest instead of being in the hospital.

Mitoxantrone - the “M” in MEC

Yesterday, Michelle got a visit from Young, a friend she has known since freshman year at Berkeley. Below are some of his thoughts from the visit.

–

From Young:

Yesterday was my first visit to Michelle at the hospital. Generally, I’ve been seeing her when she is well enough to be at home.

In her room, Mabel, Michelle and I were just chatting it up when unexpectedly, her doctor came in and said it was time for the her last round of intrathecal chemo (the one that goes through the spine). Whoaaa, I thought. Immediately, I started feeling nervous to know that I’ll be witnessing this, and then my attention went to Michelle, curious about what she was experiencing at that moment as well. “You’d better hold Mabel’s hand because she freaks out,” said Michelle, who continues to think of others even in her hardest times.

As the doctor prepared his kit and as the nurse prepared Michelle in the right position, I had to prepare myself. Be with her and relax, I told myself. This was followed by the Doctor saying, “Don’t faint because nobody will be able to catch you.”

The most scary moment for me was when the Doctor had to delicately poke a 4-inch needle into the middle of Michelle’s back, which was already doused in layers of iodine and prepped with anesthesia. After about 2 attempts, Michelle spoke about an instant sharp pain locally. I felt my mouth spread wide in concern. After more attempts, I observed his frustration as his head shook left to right. This part seemed to go on forever, even though it took about 8 minutes. Each time I noticed the needle coming out, I’d felt disheartened and scared for Michelle. I would even notice her toes curl with each insertion.

The most vivid moment was when the Doctor switched out the tube extracting her spinal fluid for the tube with chemo. In that brief switch, Michelle’s clear, spinal fluid leaked. As I reflect on this moment now, for some reason, it deeply connects me to how serious her condition really is. After the procedure, she asked “I felt some hot stuff on my back. What was that?” I said “um, your spinal fluid.”

The suspense and tension cleared when the Doctor said, “We’re all done.” A round of high fives were exchanged because this would be Michelle’s last intrathecal. I felt extremely honored to be able to witness just a sliver of what she’s been going through. Just a sliver.

Now, more than ever, she needs our support to find a match. We have a mega UC Berkeley drive coming up on Sept 17-18. Please contact here (savemichelle@gmail.com) if you would like to get involved.

–

This photo was taken a couple of weeks before Michelle’s original diagnosis in February 2007.

Michelle, Van, and Young Biking in Tiburon