We’ve spent long days with our herbalist and have been diligent about all that he has asked us to do, which includes getting lots of rest, taking herbal medicine, practicing Qi/Chi Gong, and sticking to certain dietary restrictions. It truly is a comprehensive treatment plan that has been focused on building Michelle’s strength and is now transitioning to fighting her cancer. Considering that Michelle underwent a transplant 7 months ago and chemo just 21 days ago, it’s amazing how great she feels and looks. People that see her in person can’t even tell she’s sick, except for the fact that she has a bald (and beautiful) head.

On the Western medical front, we’ve been working on ensuring that there indeed were no other options, as our oncologist had indicated last Friday. We’ve traded emails and spoken with doctors in Seattle who have helped us evaluate the viability of Clofarabine, a more standard chemotherapy agent, and Mylotarg, a “targeted” chemotherapy agent. We’ll spare everyone the details…the end result of lots of research and discussion is that both drugs could work for Michelle but aren’t very promising. We’ve heard words like “rare,” “long shot,” and “hail mary.” The overall conclusions in Seattle are that if we choose to continue fighting with Western tools, it’s NOT unreasonable to think they could be successful, but we must be aware of the risks, which could be fatal. Ultimately, we could be shortening Michelle’s life even more with these desperate measures. Lastly, we also had a consult today with another oncologist at Kaiser who essentially agreed that it was best not to pursue these other options.

So, although these are never terms or conclusions you want to hear associated with your remaining life-saving options, it has been important for us know where exactly we stand so that we can more confidently commit to our Eastern treatment without second-guessing ourselves. One of my goals this week was to make sure there was nothing compelling out there that we didn’t know about, and I think this goal has been achieved. For all those individuals that helped me by staying up late at night, helping me think things through, pulling favors with colleagues, poring over medical research, etc., words can’t express the gratitude I feel. Thank you so much.

Lastly, I just want to say that although we understand the position we’re in today, we remain hopeful. There are so many success stories walking in and out of our herbalist’s center every day. It’s absolutely amazing. We hope we’re the next ones. With this in mind, we’ve been able to stay remarkably light-hearted. We cry a lot but we laugh more. For every sad moment that we share during the day, we have many more where I step back and realize how much our family and friends love Michelle and each other. We’ve been given a rare gift…a sort of advance warning that is truly bittersweet. We’re going to relish the sweet and worry about the rest later.

Looking back on the past week, I guess I had naively blocked out the implications of what blast cells really meant for us. I sort of carried on hoping we could do more chemo. But on Friday, Michelle and I had an all too sobering and surreal meeting with our oncologist Dr. Johnson. Simply put, Michelle’s cancer had proven to be chemo-resistant. This was no more apparent than after this past round of chemo. It’d be one thing if Michelle had reached remission and her blasts didn’t show up for another few months. That’d at least give us time to do some more chemo and get ready for another transplant. But after 10 total rounds of chemo since 2007 and after two relapses, you have to start facing what your body is telling you after your cancer comes back within 10 days.

I asked him what else, if anything, he could offer us? All he could do was prescribe Hydrea/ Hydroxyurea – a drug that just interferes with the growth of cancer cells. Basically, a way to extend Michelle’s life for a little bit longer. Not a cure.

And then Michelle asked him how long he thought she had even with Hydrea. I saw Dr. Johnson hesitate. Of course, this was not a question he truly wanted to answer. Not only is it difficult for doctors to predict anyone’s fate but no doctor wants to tell their 27-year old patient how much more time they have to live. Reluctantly, he answered his best guess: 4-6 weeks. When I heard him utter the word “weeks,” a cold feeling came over my body. I started panicking inside…tears flowing down my face. Weeks? I would’ve bet anything he was going to say months. Michelle looks so good…so healthy. It doesn’t make any sense.

I don’t know how you’re supposed to feel or process that type of news, and I guess you’re never really prepared for something like this. The best way I can describe it as is a scene from a movie. I glanced over at Michelle and then at Dr. Johnson and then turned back to Michelle – tears now running down her face.

Without exchanging words, Michelle and I were on the same page. I asked Dr. Johnson if he would support us if we explored Eastern treatment and he agreed. Despite traditional Western medicine failing, we knew we could still turn to Eastern medicine for one last shot. So now, our plan is to commit even more time and energy to our Vietnamese herbalist. Up to this point, we had only asked him to complement Michelle’s western treatments. Now, we would ask him to help cure her.

Tomorrow, we are going to make a few calls to other hospitals to make sure we are not missing anything else in terms of Western treatments. I hope we find something intriguing, but realistically, I don’t think we’ll learn about anything compelling enough for us to want to break down Michelle’s body more and risk putting her in a state where even our Vietnamese doctor can’t help. We feel lucky that Michelle is even out of the hospital after this last round of chemo. In fact, Dr. Johnson was afraid she would never get out and that she would be in hospital for months as that had been his experience with other patients going through the same thing.

So how do you know when to stop fighting? That’s the question that’s been running through my mind the past 64 hours. I understand though that I can’t answer that question for Michelle. If it was up to me, she would keep fighting until she had nothing left. But that’s because I’m afraid of being left here without her by my side. My heart aches when I think about the void and emptiness I would experience. I just don’t want my life to be drastically and forever altered.

For now though, I am relieved that Michelle is not ready to give up. She’s realistic about the future but still holds out hope that a miracle can happen. From a selfish perspective, that’s all I can ask for.

Before Michelle went to bed, I asked her if there was any message she wanted conveyed in this post. She just wants everyone to know that she’s doing well. And that she’s okay.

She’s mentioned several times this weekend a sense of relief. I can only guess that’s how one feels after fighting for one’s life and going through this for so long. Whereas everyone around her can escape, Michelle can’t. She goes to sleep every night with anxiety over the cancer inside her body. And she wakes up every morning realizing this long nightmare continues.

This past Friday was my birthday and Michelle had already planned a joint birthday celebration for her best friend Mabel, our good friend Eric, and me. Michelle didn’t want to let this news drag us down so she pushed us to still go out and celebrate our birthdays. She even came out. I can’t remember the last time Michelle’s been out to a bar. She said f it. The theme was “I heart the 90’s.”

Counts are all low, but that means the chemo is working.  All in all, I’m a happy camper.  No blues for this gal today.

I think my chemo cocktail might have been spiked with Serotonin because I feel content and calm. It’s nice and peaceful here. Check out my window view.

Fortunately, no nausea or mouth sores. Just some loose stool which is a small price to pay for chemo.

The biggest bummer is that I missed my mom’s and Marshawn’s bday again on 6/11 and 6/14. We took my mom out on Monday for an early bday dinner. Today, Van is going to take our little guy to a yorkie meetup in SF. He deserves a day to himself because he always brings joy to everyone. It’s a Luau themed Pawty - cute eh?

So far so good.
Michelle

Meanwhile, Michelle has received plenty of platelet and blood transfusions. The chemo has dropped her counts very quickly. She’s also had two visits from her herbalist who drove all the way from San Jose to Walnut Creek to see her (thanks Dr. Ta!).

Overall though, Michelle is feeling pretty good — good energy (she walks every day) and is alert most of the day unless she’s been hit with IV benadryl.

Ugh I just read the paragraph above and there is so much negative energy.  I feel like a bad person, but I think I have the right to blame cancer for my temporary darkened heart.  My sister Mel used to call me Drizella when I was demanding, catty and moody and she was CinderMella.  It’s about time Drizella takes a hike!  Thanks for listening to me vent.  I strangely feel better.

On the medical front we are still good to go to get admitted tomorrow.  My blasts are 71% in my peripheral blood and my wbcs are 27.6.  It’s about time for a beat down….

If you watch How I Met Your Mother then you’ll understand the Intervention party Mabel threw for me today. I was caught off guard and could not stop bawling when I saw all of my friends at the surprise party. My dear pals read aloud letters written to intervene my relationship with Leuk and end it once and for all. This was the best gift I could ever ask for as I prepare for chemo in the upcoming weeks. THANK YOU.

My oncologist and I decided I would try Sprycel before I start chemo to see if the Sprycel works on my cancer. I started taking it last Monday 5/25. My leukemia blasts cells were 52% in my peripheral blood when I started Sprycel and has dropped to 34% and then 31% over the last 5 days (my wbcs were 22.1, 16.9 and 16.7 respectively). However, the Sprycel and Leuk have also made my counts drop. I received blood and platelet transfusions last week. Despite this, my oncologists thinks the drop in my blasts and wbcs is a good sign that Sprycel is effective. On Friday he suggested that I reconsider enjoying a little more quality time before I start chemo if Sprycel can keep things under control. He believes that waiting a few more weeks will not change the effectiveness of the chemo on my cancer. His offer is mighty tempting as the longer I hold out on chemo, the more I am dreading chemo. I love my short curly locks and the luxury of hanging out with my peeps (especially snuggling with Marshawn). Plus Dr. Johnson warned me that once I start chemo, it may be a very long time before I recover. My new immune system and baby stem cells (remember my old ones got fried with radiation/chemo so I could get the transplant?) may have a tougher time recovering and protecting me from infections as the chemo wipes out my counts as it takes down the cancer.

I am still set to enter the hospital this Tuesday, but if my blood counts look good on Monday I may hold off just another week. Van’s family is coming into town and it would be lovely to spend time with my favorite nieces and nephew. I am a bit freaked out knowing that cancer is lurking in my body and that I haven’t press the GO button on Operation Three Strikes You’re Out Leuk. Am I a mad woman?? Or in denial? Or being stupid?? I have been having this debate in my head all weekend long. I am trying to be as rational as possible so that I do not regret the decision I make. For the first time in my cancer journey I feel like I don’t have a clear path and I am afraid I am going to make the wrong decision. People keep telling me to listen to my intuition/body/gut for guidance, but honestly my intuition is as confused as I am!

If I do decide to delay chemo for another week I will get blood draws every other day to ensure that my counts are in the safe zone and I promise I will not hesitate to check myself into Kaiser if something is funky.

Will keep you posted.

My local oncologist wanted me to understand that my Leukemia is extremely resistant. I have received the strongest treatments (chemo, radiation, etc.) to kill my cancer, but it keeps coming back. He warned me that enduring more treatment could be detrimental to my quality of life and he guaranteed that Leuk would come back. However, he did say that I needed to make this decision based on my heart and my own intuition. He would support me 110% with whatever I decide.

Although I greatly respect his opinion, at this point, I refuse to give up. I am only 27 years old. There is no vacation I want to go on before I die (I wouldn’t enjoy it with this dark cloud hovering over me.). I am not in denial. I understand that we are in unchartered territory and I am up against a ginormous wall. However, I am not fighting to live for a few more months. I AM fighting to cure myself of this horrible disease so I can enjoy life until I’m gray and old. I want to be there to support Van as he becomes an established businessman, to applaud Melanie at her graduation from med school, to be in the delivery room and welcome Melissa’s future babies into the world, to join a senior citizen bowling team with my BFF Mabel, etc. I would rather die fighting than throwing in the towel.

Tomorrow I meet with my doctor to discuss my decision. We will probably start chemo in 2 weeks (after my close friends’ wedding). I know delaying my chemo is risky, but this wedding is the only thing that I dreamed about going to before I left for Seattle. My heart is set on attending. Plus my cancer has been progressing slower than my oncologists had expected and my counts have remained stable. I feel strong and energized. But I’m no fool, if my counts take a deep plunge in the upcoming weeks, I will start chemo immediately.

I thought to myself “Wow such wise words.” In all the other messages my schoolmates wrote about future successes, accomplishments, ambitions, opportunities, etc. No one else mentioned life’s challenges. No one thinks about future hardships when they are young. I surely didn’t.

I always thought Van and I would grow old together. In college, whenever I saw an old Asian couple on the bus, I would smile and dream that that would be Van and me one day. He would wear those Kangol caps that old men wear and I would have my gray hair tied in a bun. Maybe one of us would be using a cane. Now I’ll be lucky if I even reach my thirtieth birthday. My yearbook review made me feel sorry for myself and bitter. “Why me?!?” was the question of the day.

I was lamenting all of this to my sister. Luckily Melanie was there to hug it out with me. She’s really the best person to be with when I feel crappy. Only she would think to show me this to dry my tears:

Today I feel much better. Now I’m off to my appointment with Dr. Johnson to get ready for my upcoming life challenges. Here we go…

We have a general idea of what’s to come. First step is some sort of chemotherapy to get her in remission. If this succeeds, she may do another transplant (if that is the course of action we determine is best). Details on transplant are TBD but it would definitely be in Seattle.

Michelle’s case will be presented to a broader group of doctors in Seattle, and we will get more official recommendations (specific chemotherapy regimen, pros/cons of another transplant, etc.) from our medical team next week. We’re guessing that chemo will start late next week or early the following week depending on which drug they want to use and which hospital can administer it. We are hoping we can stay in the bay area for this round of chemo so that we can at least spend the next 2 months close to family and friends.

Michelle is doing okay with the news. She’s definitely scared…dreading the thought of going through another transplant…feeling guilt with how this impacts everyone’s lives….feeling sad about leaving family, friends and Marshawn. Overall, she’s doing well, and physically, she feels and looks great. And most importantly, she hasn’t lost the desire to keep fighting for her life. There ain’t no quit in this girl.

I woke up several times last night with butterflies in my stomach because of today’s biopsy procedure.  Normally I sit on pins and needles until my results come in, but after the procedure I feel strangely calm and grounded.  Like Carolyn, no matter what my results reveal, I will not give up.  I will continue to fight.  There is too much to live for.

In memory of Carolyn, please get your friends, family, and anyone else you know registered on the bone marrow registry.   Thank you.

I often forget that of the hundreds and thousands of eyes that come upon this site, most have probably not met Michelle in person. I have the fortune of calling Michelle and Van my friends and I’m lucky enough to get to hang out with this awesome duo every so often. And although you haven’t had a chance to meet them in person, you’ve grown to know them through this website. I asked Michelle if I could write a quick blog to provide you a glimpse into her life. I imagine it to be exhausting for such an unselfish person like Michelle to constantly write about herself, so when I asked, she complied.

I visited Michelle recently at her mom’s house and she looked like, well, Michelle (minus some hair). I was expecting a physically and emotionally exhausted cancer patient and instead, I found my buddy Michelle, the same Michelle I’ve known for years, sitting on her bed, relaxed and laughing at the absurdity of a reality show on TV. I didn’t know what to expect myself and admit that my own emotional fragility made me apprehensive about seeing my friend in her relapsed state.

Michelle is surrounded by a variety of bags and plates of food, her sister Melanie and Kevin, Marshawn, and her mom. Amidst the scene, her mom frequently pops in to make sure everyone, especially Michelle, is fed and comfortable. Everyone is paying an absurd amount of attention to little Marshawn, and soon I join the fray. Before this leukemia business decided to lurk into her life, I would come over to Michelle and Van’s apartment to mooch off of their DVR, and would find them lounging on their couches, watching their favorite shows, munching on snacks, (recently) teaching Marshawn new tricks and providing their blunt commentary. This visit was no different, except that Van was away for a buddy’s wedding.

So on to the objective of this blog entry: what do you not know about Michelle? Well, Michelle is blunt. She’ll always tell you like it is. And it happens to be that I’ve been traveling a lot lately, so she comments, “You look tired. You have bags under your eyes.” To which I reply, “You’re totally right. I’ve been working a lot lately”. To vouch for her bluntness, I really have been looking like crap lately.

Michelle has sharp taste buds. Her tongue and nose have always been able to discern the subtle nuances in food. She can tell you what spices are in what, what’s too rich, what’s just right and Yelp about it immediately. The chemo has thrown her epithelium amok, and despite her previous hatred of rich, creamy foods, she explains to me that she often finds herself craving those very things. Ironically, she no longer craves the Vietnamese food that she and I can often talk on and on about. So of course, I enjoy a bowl of pho made by her mom right in front of her and she tries not to smell it and become nauseous.

As the minutes go by, I find myself completely at ease with Michelle. Another thing you don’t know about her, but she’s one of the most even-keeled people I know. She takes on challenges as easily as walking down the street. Chinese drink made of herbs (it’s not as pleasant as it sounds…it’s black, thick and really pungent), no problem! She quickly drinks it before my eyes. I take a sip and nearly hurl.

I wouldn’t feign to understand what emotional and mental exercises she must go through daily, but what I do know is that from the ups and downs, she continues to handle it in her own way. I guess the best way to describe this is that she’s seems to be at peace with herself. She simply exudes this in every way. Michelle manages to take my apprehension about her relapse, my concerns, my worries, all of my anxieties and tuck them away neatly somewhere in my full tummy of beef and noodles. I simply indulge in hanging out with my buddy, not my buddy with cancer, on a warm California night.

We talk about a broad range of trivial topics in between scatterings of discussions of the melodramatic things that plague the life of 20-somethings…the meaning of life, relationships (or a lack thereof), careers. The minutes prove to be an unrelenting force and I can see Michelle’s eyes get heavier. It’s about that time to say goodbye.

She walks me downstairs and I give her an obligatory noogie on her soft head. The door shuts behind me, I sit in my rental and immediately realize how much I enjoy hanging out with Michelle in the most ordinary of circumstances. This is exactly why Michelle has her legions of fans: from the most complex situations to the most ordinary circumstances, she somehow manages to make every moment she shares with you extraordinary. I can’t help but feel a sense of happiness and warmth as I drive away.

It’s nice having the energy to get things done.  Recently Van and I did our taxes (1st time as a married couple - YIKES it still sounds weird when I call him my “husband”).  I’m finally caught up on all of my mail, medical bills, unpacking from Seattle, applying for LLS financial aid, responding to emails and reconnecting with friends.  I also treated myself and went to the mall to get an outfit for our good friends’ upcoming wedding.  Trying to find a dress to cover my hickman line is a lot harder than you would think!  I can’t express how happy I am that I’m not stuck in bed these days.  The Cali sunny weather has done a bit of good on my spirits.

The Big Biopsy Day is next Monday and I’ve been doing loads of visualizations, self hypnosis and praying to ensure that all goes well.  I continue to see the Chinese herbalist doctor weekly.  In addition to weaning off most of my drugs, I think the herbal medicine has helped a lot.  Update* I forgot to mention that my Kaiser oncologist was the one who referred me to the Chinese herbalist doctor.  My oncologist actually gets treated by the Chinese doctor and the referral gave him the credibility I needed to trust him.  It’s great because my oncologist and my Chinese herbalist talk to each other to make sure that they are on the same page with my treatments.

Thanks for checking in on me.

However, blast cells have not spilled over into her bloodstream which means there is something working in Michelle’s favor that is presumably fighting back her cancer. As mentioned in previous posts, Michelle is now completely off of her immuno-suppressants which, in theory, should enable her donor cells / immune system to attack leukemia cells in her body. We will know for sure what’s going after Michelle’s bone marrow biopsy on Monday, April 27th.

In addition to this, we’ve started seeing an Asian herbalist with the hope of boosting Michelle’s immune system. Every night, we heat up a concoction of herbs in water for 2 hours in a special claypot, and Michelle has to stomach the drink that pours out. Actually, Michelle has the bad habit of determining ahead of time whether she will like any food or drink, so I thought she was being a drama queen when she made faces and sounds as she drank her medicine. I tried a sip of her drink and can attest that it’s pretty bad.

Historically, we’ve resisted going down the path of Eastern medicine. Not because we don’t think there is value to herbs that have been recommended to us. It’s been more because we have had no way of determining who to trust and what to take. More importantly, we didn’t want to interfere with any medications, especially chemotherapy, that Michelle was on. In fact, we were given specific instructions to not take any herbal medicine in Seattle. Since Michelle is not currently on chemotherapy, we felt that it was worth a shot. We’re not sure if it’s a coincidence, but Michelle started feeling a lot better pretty much as soon as she started taking her herbal medicine. Her energy has been a lot better and her nausea has subsided quite a bit. She still has some recurring headaches and some generally bad days, but these are less frequent.

We’ll probably never really know whether it’s the Chinese herbs truly working or it’s just the placebo effect. At this point though, I’m not going to question the source of these positive outcomes. Instead, we are focusing on taking advantage of the days Michelle does have energy to go out and have some fun. On top of eating out a lot and getting a very welcome visit from a good friend, here are some of the things we’ve done the past couple of weeks…

Confused at the Mystery Spot:

Stuffing our faces with funnel cake in Santa Cruz:

Going to the shooting range:

Feeling like kids at the Jelly Belly factory:

Celebrating Michelle’s Dad’s Birthday with the family:

Celebrating Mabel’s heritage at the Cherry Blossom Festival:

Truly embracing Mabel’s heritage by taking ridiculous Japanese photo booth sticky pictures:

And of course, obsessing over our lil Marshawn:

Yes, he really fell asleep like this.

First, thank you so much for your words of encouragement. I apologize for not blogging sooner. I know what it feels like to check a blog multiple times a day to see if a fellow cancer fighter has made any updates after announcing some bad news. It sucks feeling left in the dark when you are worried for a friend. Just know I immensely appreciate your love and support (and patience).

Discovering that I had relapsed just 4 days after moving back home was quite surreal and scary. After numerous tests in Seattle showed that I was cancer free, what are the odds that on the very day I was flying home to San Francisco my final blood draw at the Hutch would show 30 stinking leukemia cells?! Impeccable timing! I really thought someone up there was playing an evil trick on me.

Of course, I’m a realistic person. There’s that voice in the back of your head that reminds you could relapse any time, but that voice was getting quieter by the day as I was nearing my 100 day post transplant mark. Not only was the relapse news devastating, but I was also dealing with headaches, nausea, diarrhea, and new red spots on my skin. I felt like I had just been through the hardest battle of my life and I was absolutely exhausted. I felt like my body had failed not only me, but all of my loved ones that had put so much energy into my cancer journey. I didn’t want to drag them through all of this again.

So that’s where I was just a few weeks ago, but now that we sort of have a short term treatment plan (a.k.a. taper off the immuno suppressant meds so my new immune system can grow and do some Leukemia ass kicking), I’m doing much better. Tapering off the meds have not triggered any major GVHD. I am not taking any systemic steroids either. All of my blood counts have been pretty stable. (*I did get 3 units of blood last Wednesday, but that’s pretty much been the trend. I was also getting blood transfusions every 3 weeks or so in Seattle.) Over the past few weeks, my spots have healed, my nausea has practically disappeared, my headaches are almost gone and my energy has increased. Most importantly, I feel mentally and physically strong.

I am almost done tapering off my last immuno suppressant, Cyclosporine. In 3 weeks I will get another bone marrow biopsy to see what’s going on and we will take it from there. Many decisions will have to be made in about a month, but I am just focusing on each day as they come. Right now, I am enjoying the fantastic weather, laughing with my sister Mel, snuggling with Van, getting back massages from Mom, playing board games with friends, watching Vietnamese kungfu movies, and chasing Marshawn around the dog park.

Life is A-OK.

P.S. A relapse is devastating to the entire Leukemia community not only because we are sad for the patient, but also because it shows that the disease can come back. I just wanted to remind anyone who’s going through treatment, that each person’s cancer journey is different. Please don’t attach my relapse to your life. Keep the hope alive. You can totally be cured of this stupid disease. And hey, I’m still banking on nipping Leukemia in the bud too.

It’s been difficult telling family the past few days, and I’ve struggled when thinking about how i was going to write this post. There’s just no good way to tell a father that his little girl’s cancer is back. I love Michelle with all my heart, but I just can’t imagine the pain in her parents’ hearts. Ultimately though, I’ve taken a very matter-of-fact approach because that is how i’ve learned to respond to and process these just plain [insert negative adjective of the day] events in our lives the past two years. You have to accept the situation and just focus on the things you have some sort of control over. In our case, it’s what we can do today and tomorrow to help Michelle get better.

In terms of next steps, we don’t have a lot of concrete information to provide because we really don’t have much. We simply have very little visibility to what lays ahead. For now, we are reducing one of Michelle’s immuno-suppressants / anti-GVHD medications mycophenolate / Cellcept with the hope that Michelle’s donor cells (being suppressed less) will attack Michelle’s leukemic cells. After two weeks, Michelle will have another bone marrow biopsy, and these results will dictate our next set of actions. This will likely mean some sort of TBD chemotherapy if there is still some residual disease. Whether we look at another transplant or at clinical trial drugs down the road is also TBD. We are also unsure whether we will be staying in the bay area or heading back to Seattle.

So we really don’t know much. I’ve had to learn to be comfortable with this the past week. It’s challenging for someone who likes to have data and opinions. Ideally, we would know what options we have, all the pros and cons, and know where we’re headed. I know it would make that sick feeling in my stomach go away. What we do know though is that at every step of the way up to this point, we’ve never held back on treatment options and have maximized our chances of eradicating this disease. I guess there’s two ways to interpret this, but at the very least, I don’t look back with any regrets and can sit here comfortable with our past decisions.

Michelle has been dealing well with this latest setback. Don’t get me wrong…we certainly have our share of tear-filled talks late at night or early in the morning. There is a calm acceptance of this relapse, but there is no loss of hope. She continues to think positively. Right now, that energy is aimed at her donor / stem cells killing her own marrow cells. Michelle is also preoccupied with fighting nausea all day and has developed some increasingly intense headaches. She has been sleeping most of the day — partly because of reduced energy levels and also because it makes the days go by more easily.

We’ll provide details and updates when we get them. This latest setback would explain why we’ve been a little MIA on the blog front. This would also apply to those in more personal contact with us that may be wondering why we haven’t been so good at picking up the phone or returning messages.

I do have one small request. Because Michelle is very physically and emotionally tired, I ask that everyone please refrain from calling Michelle’s cell but rather send any messages through blog comments, email, text messages, FB, etc. She may not respond right away, but she will certainly get them. If you need to hear a human voice, call me and i’ll do my best to fill in for her.

Thank you for your continued support.

Van

Over the last couple of years, we’ve had the opportunity to meet members of and learn more about The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS)
and Team in Training (TNT). LLS’s mission is to cure leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin’s disease and myeloma, and improve the quality of life of patients and their families. One of their fundraising vehicles is Team in Training - a group of over 30,000 runners, walkers, cyclists, hikers and triathletes who participate all over the world in marathons, triathlons, hiking adventures on behalf of LLS.

Two of our friends are part of the TNT and have dedicated their races to Michelle. They are training hard and fundraising for their upcoming races so please check out Jenn’s page and Victoria’s page and support their efforts.

About the cause and your contributions:
* Every five minutes, someone in the United States learns that he or she has leukemia, Hodgkin or non-Hodgkin lymphoma or myeloma.
* LLS research has helped increase the survival rate of Leukemia from 14% in 1963 to over 50% today.
* Hodgkin lymphoma is now considered one of the most curable forms of cancer, thanks to medical advancements in radiation and chemotherapy.
* LLS has supported more than $600 million in research since 1949
* Over 75% of your money will go to medical research (stuff like the development of Gleevec), advocacy, education and financial aid for patients. The remaining money goes back into the growth and marketing of Team in Training, which is LLS’s major fundraising engine.

Because of this, Michelle’s days have been fairly slow and uneventful. She stays in bed most of the day (she finds that laying on her right side helps) so she keeps herself busy on her iphone reading wedding and food blogs and watching tv. When she’s feeling good, we try to get some air and go for walks with Marshawn.

Hopefully, we have a better update in a few days.

We are back home safe and sound. We’re in the east bay for now and will settle back into SF over the weekend. It feels good to be back…almost as if we never left. It feels comfortable and right.

Michelle’s flight went well and the drive down from Seattle went smoothly. Luckily, we left last night just as it started to snow (Seattle was shut down by this morning from the ice/snow). As an added bonus, there were no flying rocks to contend with so my car made it back in one piece.

When we reached home this morning, the bay area welcomed us with a rainbow. After leaving all the cold/rain/snow behind, I thought this was a fitting end to our journey. I noticed that it’s really green here thanks to all the rain the past month. It’s definitely gorgeous here compared to Seattle. It even felt warm in the afternoon. To take advantage, Melanie and I went on a 8 mile run and Michelle took Marshawn for a nice walk.

Thanks everyone for all the nice message, emails, and calls. We’re going to take it really easy the next couple of months but hope to see many of you soon.