girl drew

We’ve had a productive week in isolation. Ramón’s sister, YuSun, arrived in Atlanta on Monday night before heading to Emory on Tuesday for a full day of pre-transplant visits. With each needle stick (Sibling voodoo?), YuSun remained faithful and is now eating a very strict diet – in quarantine – until cell collection a week from today. So, as Ramón sits on his throne as the Pancake King, his sister is force-feeding herself broccoli, bananas, and peanuts (Oh my!). She’s also required to consume 8000mg of calcium a day, which is the equivalent of 26 glasses of milk. Please send YuSun strength as she prepares her body for stem cell collection. Though the food requirements don’t exactly make me salivate, I hope YuSun takes comfort knowing that, post-transplant, she’ll have Ramón eating from the palm of her hand.

Ramón and YuSun in Puerto Rico, December 2011 Four words to cherish in the world of cancer: We got good news! Ramón’s bone marrow biopsy shows that we’re ready to head to stem cell transplant. Though some details are still up in the air, we know that Ramón’s sister, YuSun, will be his donor. YuSun is a half match, but she’s 100% committed to helping out her “little” brother. We’re back at home with the dogs until Ramón is readmitted for transplant in the next few weeks. The transplant process is very intense, but we’re up for the challenge. Please keep YuSun top of mind as she travels from Michigan to Georgia in the coming days to deliver Ramón’s new blood formation system. Given the importance of staying healthy, she’s driving to Atlanta and staying until her cells are collected for transplant. Send YuSun (and her family who will be missing her!) good vibes in the weeks to come. I’m keeping this short because we don’t know all the answers and, even if we did, we’re doing our ...

Ramón  with two of his loves This photo was taken two years ago today, and it has me feeling somewhat nostalgic. I’m longing for a time when I was the only sick half of this duo  –  a time when I’d never heard “absolute neutrophil count”  –  a time when we weren’t living in a hospital, watching medical experts fear for their own lives while insensible people in the real world refer to significant loss of life as a political stunt or media hype. Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Do I sound festive or what? This round of treatment has been difficult for Ramón, particularly due to debilitating headaches. After about 2-3 weeks of helplessly watching him endure pain, we think we’ve finally hit on the right combination of medications to keep it under control. His counts have been slowly trending up, so we’re grateful for that. Which brings me to today’s request… If it crosses your mind between about 2:00 and 3:00 p.m. ET, please bombard us with positive energy. Ramón ...

It’s everywhere you turn: coronavirus this and coronavirus that. One minute, you read an article about a grieving daughter who suddenly lost her mom to the virus; a few minutes later, you see someone suggesting it’s a hoax and that the fear is manufactured. Another person is upset about an event or trip cancellation because it sucks when life doesn’t go according to plan. Then there’s the person whose decreasing 401(k) is causing more affliction than illness ever could. And lest we forget the person who has enough hand sanitizer to fill a kiddie pool. The inundation of information is overwhelming, yes, and some media outlets are churning out stories for the heck of it. “ The flu kills people every year, and we’re not freaking out about that .” Actually, some of us have been. When flu season peaks, I am constantly mindful of the fact that the flu does not mix well with cystic fibrosis. Also, I get the flu vaccine the moment it comes out – like I’m 15 years old waiting in line to buy N...

Well, well, well … It’s hospital day 20. It’s not Ramón’s best day, but we’re making the best of every day. When I’m faced with anxiety-provoking situations, I try to apply logic to make the uncertainty disappear. For example, I have been replaying last May’s induction chemotherapy, trying to remember what happened on what day, thinking it will be an indicator of how things go this time. I am wrong day after day. I want to accept that there is no making sense of cancer, but the detective in me still makes fruitless attempts. Though I don’t know how much longer we’ll be here, I know that we should be able to go home (with many outpatient clinic visits) for several weeks leading up to Ramón’s transplant. Right now he’s tentatively scheduled to be admitted early to mid-April for transplant, but there are so many moving parts that I’m not getting too attached to any specific dates. There are still tests galore before the transplant is officially green-lighted. For one, Ramón wil...

Livin' in the sunshine We made it to day 300! Sometimes it’s still hard for me to believe Ramón was diagnosed with leukemia last May. It’s even more difficult to believe that, after about nine months in remission, it occasionally feels like we’re back where we started. But, on the bright side, we’ve had 300 love-laden, laughter-loaded, gratitude-packed days. When you’re living in a hospital and constantly reminded of life’s fragility, every moment takes on a deeper level of meaning. As I typed that, a helicopter just flew overhead. It could be carrying a person or a vital organ; it might be on the way to get one. Whatever the case, it’s unlikely to be a joyride. Instead, the helicopter will likely determine someone’s future. It’s occasionally overwhelming to be surrounded by such significance, but, more often than not, it heightens life with a richness that’s challenging to describe. Despite some discomfort here and there, Ramón is doing quite well. Right now he’s not gett...

So fortunate It’s hard to believe we are where we are. Last Sunday we were near Blue Ridge where Ramón kick-started the week by running up a mountain – no exaggeration. Then, on Monday morning, we sipped coffee while watching the sunrise from the comfort of a hot tub, soaking in the glorious moment unfolding before us. Then, after returning home and getting groceries for the week, we received the phone call that would turn life upside down once again. Ramón immediately turned on his speaker phone, and I knew something was wrong the moment I heard the doctor’s voice. Her typically calm demeanor carried a twinge of dread, and then she asked, “Are you at home?” At that moment, I was certain I didn’t want to hear what was coming. So, that’s what brings us back to the Emory tower we came to know all too well last year. In some ways it feels surreal to be here, and in other ways it's as though we never left. As we drove here on Wednesday morning, we realized how grateful we w...

Remember when it snowed? Yesterday started off like your typical day: Ramón and I were evaluating which of our dogs would have the most success on American Ninja Warrior. By the end of the day, however, we were discussing where the dogs should go for the next month or so while we’re in the hospital. You read that correctly. I know many of you are probably thinking, ‘Wait, didn’t he just run a half-marathon?’ Yes, he did. In fact, after getting off the shocking phone call with the doctor last night, it didn’t take long for him to have an epiphany: “I could have gotten a much better time if I didn’t have cancer.” On February 10, Ramón had a routine bone marrow biopsy as part of the AML monitoring phase. By Friday, the doctors knew that he’d relapsed. Rather than telling us on Valentine’s Day – as we shared a romantic dinner from the Wendy’s drive-thru – the doctor wanted to wait until Monday. Just to think … Ramón was initially diagnosed on his birthday and could have been re-...

Yesterday Ramón completed a half-marathon that he’s been training for since his counts recovered following his last round of chemo. Younger, pre-cancer Ramón ran half-marathons whenever he pleased with little to no preparation whatsoever. He’s always been quite athletic, and we have ongoing debates about which professional athletes he thinks he could beat in a 40-yard dash. Ramón also claims that, if he had known the rules of football when he played in high school, he would have been very talented. Yes, he played high school football despite not knowing how downs worked. After walking through the emergency room doors on May 7, Ramón hadn’t set foot outside the confines of the hospital except for the ambulance ride transferring him from one hospital to another. After getting clearance to come off the continuous infusions, he was excited to be freed from his IV pole, which he called his “ball and chain.” On May 22, Ramón was feeling pretty good and wanted to walk to the cafeteria (Imag...

A few weeks before Ramon was diagnosed with cancer, he participated in a relay race with a group of friends. The term “relay race” sounds super-fun like elementary school field day, so let me clarify. This was a 120ish mile trail race that includes running through the night, sleeping in tents (if at all), and possibly pooping in the woods despite it being a disqualifiable offense. Each of the eight team members runs about 15 or 16 miles over the two-day period. He’s done this race several times and, every time, the thing he comes home talking about is the late-night trip to Waffle House. Last year, in the days after, Ramon was more tired than usual, but we didn’t think much of it. He also mentioned that his gums were bleeding at the race, so we bought new mouthwash. We obviously didn’t know at the time that these were signs of leukemia; I figured strange things happen when you run an ungodly distance like that – I wouldn’t know. Ramon had a routine physical scheduled a few weeks...