My 7th Birthday

Hi blog,

Apologies for the gap. I've been trying to get a handle on everything and it's been frustrating and draining to say the least. The closer the surgery gets the more things seem to pop up to deal with. I'm definitely going to be looking forward to a nice, relaxing, pain-filled break after I get my shoulder replaced in exactly two weeks, let me tell you.

I was going to put a picture of a knee with AVN, but then I
decided this was a much better option. Don't you think?

Well, I suppose you're waiting to hear about the knee. I am too, I only just had the MRI on Saturday so I won't be learning anything from that for another few days probably. However, two days before that I went in to see my knee specialist (the first guy I saw was my general practitioner, who also does sports medicine) and the x-rays looked about normal, same as before. But then he pulled up a knee MRI I had done back in May (I didn't even remember having it) and he showed me the inside of my knee. It wasn't pretty. The majority of the interior was made up of necrosed (dead) bone. To be fair, this isn't exactly news to me. I've known that there was a lot of necrosis for a while, because of my Avascular necrosis (a degenerative bone disease caused by steroids. See here for details), but as long as the dead stuff stays inside the bone and doesn't penetrate to the surface, it's not going to cause any pain. Well, there was a tiny tentacle of necrotic (just using all sorts of variations of the word today aren't I?) bone snaking down through a big patch of it and had just barely breached the surface. There was only a tiny spot exposed, and my specialist thinks that might be what's causing the knee pain.
Theory: Because the pain only really shows up when I bend my knee at certain angles, that small dead spot is rubbing against something at that certain angle and causing the pain. When I get this newest MRI back I'll learn two things. A) Whether or not the little spot has grown any, 2) What can be done about it, assuming something needs to be done about it. Obviously there's a lot of speculation here, and that in itself is driving me up the wall. As accepting as I am about the shoulder surgery, the possibility that I might need another replacement (if the necrosis is spreading in the knee and the pain continues to get worse, my specialist might recommend surgery again) after that has done nothing to improve my mood. Frankly, I'm pissed. Murphy, always Murphy.

But that's neither here or there now so I'm trying not to think about it too much (and not doing a very good job). The book editing has been coming along, not great or fast, but it is progressing at least. Unfortunately there are more pressing things to do than editing my memoir. I'm not happy about it, because this memoir is literally the most important thing to me, but what can you do?

Let's talk about something pleasant. I feel this whole post has had a somewhat sour tinge to it. But now for something uplifting and cheerful! (Kinda) Two days ago I had my 7-year rebirthday (and I think I'm having a regular one in a few days too). In some ways, I am seven years old. This me, right now, is only seven years old. It's when I got my bone marrow transplant from marrow harvested from my brother Chad's hip bone (the needles look like something out of the Spanish Inquisition).  October 12, 2007 is when I got my new life, a new chance.

Excerpt from Life Has No Title:

When you receive an infusion of bone marrow, the staff up at City of Hope calls it your “birthday,” the day where you’re given new life and, in a sense, reborn. October 12, 2007 is my oncological birthday. The doctor for the day, Dr. Pawlowska (spelled right the very first time!), came in with a nurse carrying a bag of what I at first believed was blood. I had known that my mom was organizing people to donate blood for after I had my bone marrow transplant, and thought that before I could receive it I would need to bolster my cell counts, but I was mistaken. Instead, the ruddy-colored viscous liquid was the bone marrow! This piqued my interest a great deal, insofar as someone who is hopped up on a staggering amount of dilaudid can do anything to a great deal. I had been paying as much attention as possible, learning what I could about this and that, gaining as much knowledge as a second-year med school student in the process. If I had the energy to focus, I would listen in on conversations and pick up some odd terminology or medical explanation for whatever god-forsaken side effect I had picked up that day.

“How are you today good sir?” Dr. Pawlowska asked in her thick-accented way. It was the same question every time she saw me in the morning. “How are you today good sir?”

Most days I would respond with, “Okay I guess.” Or “Not too great.” I was a master of understatement. But today, I gathered up a smile and told her, “Excited. That’s the bone marrow?”

“It is. We’ll just hook this up and you’ll be good to go.”

“Wait…how does it get into my bones then?” I asked suspiciously. As far as I could tell, there were no nanobots lurking in the substance ready to transport the bone marrow from my bloodstream into the centers of my bones, where they would thrive and drive out the remnants of my treasonous cells.

Dr. Pawlowska offered up a tentative smile. “To be honest, we’re not entirely sure. I could tell you all about the different theories and everything, but nothing has been proven definitively. They sort of magically find their way into the bones.”

Magic. One of the last words you want to hear when a doctor is explaining such an important medical procedure to you. “Magic,” I repeated slowly, not entirely sure if I had misheard her in my drug-induced haze.

“Magic,” she reaffirmed.

We looked at each other for a long moment, then I shrugged and lay back in my bed, too exhausted to argue and knowing that the good doctor knew what she was doing, even if she wasn’t sure about the exact nature of the procedure. “Good enough for me. Let’s get started.”

So there you go. Chad saved my life. I wouldn't be here if he hadn't donated his marrow. The poor kid got stabbed by a thousand saw-toothed needles, woke up so groggy he couldn't figure out how to properly use a straw and had a sore hip for several days. I have him to thank for this second chance and the ability to continue to live and enjoy life, all the things I love: writing, space, science, friends, family, space. I'll never be able to repay that, but at least I can pester him with interesting space facts the next time I see him.

PS: Comet Siding Spring will be flying past Mars on October 19 at a distance of 89,000 miles (much closer than the moon is to Earth). It'll be awesome.

Your 7-year-old Master,
Andrew Bundy

Return of the Chadi

Hey blog!

My brother Chad is home for spring break! It's a pretty funny story actually, so buckle up! (I don't think you have a seat belt, or a physical body for that matter, but it's just a figure of speech so don't spend too much time thinking about it, aigh?)

About a month ago my mom asked if Chad was coming home for spring break. His girlfriend (Erica) would be coming down, but Chad told her that he decided he was going to stay up in Humboldt (where he goes to school obviously) instead of coming back. Mom was bothered by this, she missed Chad and wanted him back, but in their Skype call she put on a brave face and told him in a not-at-all convincing tone that she hoped he had fun and would see him over the summer. In a resigned tone she said goodnight and almost immediately after hanging up sighed and said to us, "He's not coming home. I wish he would."

For the next couple weeks my mom didn't mention it, but then she got a strange message from Chad's girlfriend's mom saying that she was looking forward to seeing both Chad and Erica that spring break. Confused, my mom called Chad and asked him why Erica's mom thought he would be coming down for spring break. "Oh, must be some kind of mix-up," he said, shooting down the rising star of hope that mom had gathered up about Chad's return. "I'll be sure to text her and let her know that I'm not coming back. Thanks for letting me know." The conversation didn't last much longer and my mom was once again dejected that her son would not be coming to see her near the end of March as she wanted.

I got a call from Chad a couple days later, in which he spoke for no real reason in a hushed tone. "Hey Andrew. I decided I'm coming down for spring break. But it's a surprise, so don't tell mom. I'll need your help though when I get there."

"Sure thing," I told him, grinning ear to ear. I loved having Chad back home, it was nice to have somebody to actually hang out with rather than sit by myself most of the day and work on my book and relive old memories. "What do you need from me?"

"I'll probably be getting in late, so I'll need some help getting in." I assured him that I would do my part when the time came and hung up just a moment before I realized I had no idea when he was coming back. Oh well, he'll call me a couple days before and then I'll be able to let him in, easy peasy, I told myself.

Over the next couple weeks, my mom would intermittently bring up the fact that Chad had decided to stay at Humboldt, but it really became a daily topic a few days before his spring break was supposed to start. "I just can't believe he would stay up here. I mean Erica's down here."

"Maybe he just wants some time to himself," I said, my face deadpan so I wouldn't give away the secret of the year.

On Saturday I got a text from Chad saying he would be there at around 10:30 pm. When I asked him what day he meant, I didn't get anything for several hours, but eventually I got a response saying "Tonight." I looked at my phone. It read 8 pm. Well at least I got some head's up anyway.

My mom went to bed at 10:30 that night and I considered trying to find a way to keep her awake for a bit longer until Chad got home, but that might seem too suspicious so I wished her goodnight and went to watch TV until my little brother got home.

At 11 pm I got the text. "Here." Brief, to the point, informative, perfect. I headed out to the garage to let him in and winced as the metal grated against metal and let out a horrific squeal, so I stopped immediately and gestured that Chad should crouch underneath it, just barely clearing the bottom of the door. I closed it again and this time we both grimaced as the agonizing noise scraped against our eardrums. "That's loud. Do you think that woke them up?" Chad asked as I shut the latch.

"Naw. Should be fine." I opened the door to the house and locked it behind us. He was holding two plates. "What are those for?"

"I'm bringing them back."

Chad snuck past mom and dad's room and I waited in the hall as he put his stuff away. He came back out with the dishes and came over to me. "Do you think I should just go to bed and let them find me there? Or should I wake them up?"

"What do you think?"

"Might be nice to surprise them. Your choice."

Chad nodded and disappeared into the dark room. I followed behind him and watched with amusement as he shook mom quietly. "Hey mom? I brought your dishes back?"

"Hm?" she muttered as she turned to look up at Chad. I switched on the lights and mom blinked slowly several times as Chad held out the dishes to her. Confusion danced across her face for a moment, and then the whole thing lit up like a hundred-foot Christmas tree. "Chad!!" she sighed happily. "Oh Chad you're home! Bill! Chad's home!" she mewed joyfully. She aww'd and ooh'd repeatedly as she hugged my brother and I sat down in the chair in the corner and watched as the three of them talked and my mom continued to make high-pitched noise of happiness.

Mom has been overjoyed that Chad is home and I'm quite happy as well. We've all been having a great time. Luckily mom decided not to go up to surprise Chad at Humboldt like she planned, that would have been funny though. The family goes up, the other comes home. It was good Chad told me so I could have nixed that plan should mom had decided to go through with it. He'll be home until Saturday night, and we'll be doing as much as we can as a family. Unfortunately Chad has a cold now, great timing right?

Just thought I would share that story with you blog, I can tell you were absolutely enraptured by that roller coaster of sorrow and joy.

Your yarnspinning master, Andrew