Mara to the Rescue

When I was diagnosed with aplastic anemia about six years ago, my two sisters had their blood typed for being potential stem cell donors. My brother was not tested, because he has the same intestinal condition that I do, though more severe. There is some thought that ulcerative colitis is an auto-immune disease,  as are some types of aplastic anemia, and it makes little sense to trade one compromised immune system for another.

Sibling matches are the best donors for leukemia patients.  Other cancer patients can receive their own stem cells. I need a brew that is hostile to any lurking leukemia cells (currently undetected, possibly non-existent, but you can't be sure), while also friendly enough not to pick fights with my liver or kidney. My own cells would presumably leave my organs alone, but they might not go after my leukemia cells -- Hey, that bro's gang colors indicate he's one of us. Let's go borrow a cigarette instead beating him to death.

Anyway, it turned out that Mara was a match and Lauren was not. We might have predicted this, since Mara and I are almost twins -- 11.5 months apart, and, I think, we have always gotten along fairly well. When we were very little, she would aggressively defend me against neighborhood friends/bullies who were being mean to me. (Good training for today.) We have similar personalities -- observant, analytical, introspective. It was her joining the high school track team that led me to join, with positive side effects that continue until today. I was intimidated by the thought of belonging to a real sports team, despite plenty of evidence that I was fast. But once Mara joined, it seemed safe enough to give it a try. We had some overlap in our social circles, which overlapped more when I stayed for an extra senior year and joined her graduating class. (No, I was not held back for academic reasons.)

Lauren and I had a more contentious and probably typical big brother/kid sister relationship. Part of that was surely age -- four years apart, enough to make her a strange being rather than a peer. Part personality -- Lauren is the most spirited and outgoing of the four siblings. (Naturally, such assessments are relative. In plenty of other families, Lauren would be the quiet one.) How did I torment her? Let me count the ways. Or, at least the two that get regular recountings at family gatherings. There were many more, petty and demeaning.

The more benign was when she was 5 and terrified that a monster was hiding under her bed, preventing her from getting out. Joe to the rescue! I volunteered to climb under the bed and give the all clear. "Looks good... Nothing here... Wait... Oh, No! There's something! It's got me! Aaahhhrrg!"

The more sinister incident involved a friend (maybe two) and I dangling Lauren out of a third story window of our house. Partway out, all the way out? Don't recall. Lauren currently says, forgivingly, that she probably deserved it, but I can't remember (or imagine) an offense worthy of that treatment. (Sorry, Lauren!)

Anyway, the sisters had discussed the matching results and decided that it was probably for the best that Mara was the match. As much as Lauren loves me and has forgiven my youthful terrorism, she still could harbor revenge at a subconscious and sub-cellular level. Best to not take any chances.

= = =

Jan arrives a little after 11. I haven't seen her in nine days, which is the longest we have been apart since the first year we were married. She looks good! I don't notice that she's had a recent haircut, another measure that I'm functioning normally.

Premedication starts at 1:00. Benadryl, Atavan to calm me down -- usually not a need of mine, but I'll take it -- and a steroid. It gets hard to type straight. I eventually give up, and I am in and out of sleep until nearly 5:00. At some point, I helpfully wake up and pass along a piece of wisdom to Jan: "flash cards."

Jan keeps a log of the "action":
Transfusion start: 2:22
Second bag: 2:40
Third bag: 3:05
Fourth Bag: 3:25
Done: 3:40
Joe conked out until 4:45.

= = =

Getting started. Leuk pointedly turns his back on the proceedings.

Most of the transplant team. Who knew that some of the Yellow-Bellied
Sneetches would go into medicine?

Everything gets checked multiple times. My name, after seven
weeks, remains Joseph Seeley.

The nurse gets an arm workout by trying to enlist
more gravity into the flow.

Most of the time, I am asleep.

The nurse squeezes every last drop of each bag. 

Finally up, and having a cold one to celebrate. (Ice water.)

We have joked that now I will be more in touch with my feminine side, since my blood will be my sister's. Since I already enjoy a number of activities that are conventionally but baselessly categorized as more womanly -- gardening, cooking -- it's not clear what that would look like. Maybe I won't get into many bar brawls going forward. Unless Mara has a dark side she's not sharing.

Seems like the whole thing went well. No reactions to the cells or to the premedications (other than drowsyness.)

As hoped, a day will little drama and plenty of significance.