Mick McKellar Update -- Day +263

As you can see from the photo, I am doing physical therapy, Keweenaw style. Yesterday, the yard was shades of brown and dark green, with scattered accents of faded reds, golds, and grays. About 3:00 PM, yesterday, the air suddenly turned white. By this morning, more than a foot of that white had fallen, with about 10 inches of the heavy, wet snow to be moved from our driveway.

Because I had surgery (laparoscopic cholecystectomy) on Halloween day, I can't really wrestle with our ancient snowblower (an 11 HP John Deere), so I had to settle for scooping the heavy snow. Shoveling is simply not recommended, so naturally I do it, but slowly and carefully. I don't take pain killers, so I know immediately if I do anything I should not.

Healing Well

The incisions have healed well, and the angry red entry wounds are not so angry and only a little red. Even the opening left by removal of my Jackson-Pratt drain has healed and looks benign. I still get twinges and uncomfortable sensations when I move certain ways or pick up more than I should. Still, I would call the surgery successful.

Good Numbers

Blood tests from Wednesday morning revealed some really good numbers. I am still anemic, but not dangerously so. My bilirubin is in the normal range, indicating that my liver is behaving normally, even after the gall bladder surgery.

Car Sick

Just in time to prepare for our next jaunt to Rochester, MN (on 11/29/2011) our dependable little '93 Focus may be in need of medical care. I'll be taking it to the car doctor tomorrow for a diagnosis of probable wheel-bearing-itis, this coming only a week or so after we sold our old minivan. Both vehicles are/were suffering from last winter's nearly total inactivity.

My visit to Rochester will be part check-up and part testing to determine why my pulmonary function has decreased since July. We are praying it is not fibrosis.

Thanks for your ongoing prayers and good thoughts.

Gotta get some rest. God bless and good night.

Mick

Mick McKellar Update -- Day +253

I am home! The surgery went very well, although there was (I guess) an unusual twist, and I am wearing a suction device to draw blood and other stuff from the surgical area. I cannot lift over 10 pounds and must not stretch, twist, or bend more than a small amount...no problem because it hurts to do those things.

There is some pain and breathing can be difficult at times. The worst is using the "Airelife" volumetric incentive spirometer every hour. Performing and monitoring my own postsurgical breathing exercises is a cool idea, but (to put it bluntly) it hurts. I have pain medication, but have managed to avoid taking it until about a half hour ago...just before turning in for the night.

Of course, I am taking antibiotics to prevent infection. Kudos to Portage Health medical staff for great, friendly, and professional care. I was particularly taken with the new disposable surgical robe system. It was made of paper. It covered my posterior. And get this...when I said I was chilly, the nurse connected it to an air pump device that circulated heated air into the robe, keeping me nice and toasty while waiting for my surgical adventure.

Best of all, I was home for Halloween and was able to see my grandsons, Daren and Raine, in costume tonight. Both were constumed as Batman (Batmen?). Their family dog was dressed up in a cape and went trick-or-treating as a Vampire Pomeranian.

Thank you all for your prayers and good thoughts. I am certain they powered a successful surgery and allowed me to go "under the knife" with more confidence and comfort than ever before.

God bless and good night,

Mick

(rapidly becoming a hollow man on Halloween)

Mick McKellar Update -- Day +252

The intrepid walker has not been walking very far for the past few weeks. It seems some of my medications have combined forces to produce prodigious pedal edema. Swollen legs, ankles, and feet make walking unsteady and very uncomfortable. One of the suspected culprits, Norvasc (a calcium channel blocker), will soon be replaced with Lopressor (a beta blocker). I have the new medication, but was advised not to switch because of tomorrow's grand adventure.

Tomorrrow morning (October 31...yeah, Halloween) at 6:00 AM, I will check into Portage Health for surgery to remove my gall bladder. I am scheduled for laparoscopic surgery (i.e., four bandaid surgery), which would normally be handled on a outpatient basis, but may require that I remain at least overnight to monitor the response of my compromised immune system. Recovery from laparoscopic cholecystectomy normally requires about two weeks. In my case, they said from at least two to likely four weeks.

The rush to get this done is based on my upcoming appointment at Mayo Clinic on Nov. 30 and Dec. 1, 2011. I need to be healed to drive for nine hours to Rochester, MN...in the winter. They need two days testing this time, because of concerns over a decrease in my lung function, from 84% in June, to 68% in September. Suspicious of pulmonary fibrosis, I will need a CAT scan and more pulmonary function studies to make the diagnosis.

Lots of fun, eh?

Thanks for all your prayers and good thoughts. God bless and good night,

Mick

Mick McKellar Update -- Day +231

I wrote a poem today, and I have not been writing much lately. Considering how much joy it gives me to put my virtual quill to electronic paper, I had to search for a reason. In that search, I discovered to my chagrin, that I may well have been hiding from the blunt and solid reality of living with my infirmity, my inability to make the final leap from terminally ill to terribly uncertain. Sometimes, I feel like the ancient oak: stolid and solid on the outside, yet silently rotting within. Little wonder, I guess, that I would seek to hide in plain sight, and become just A Face in the Crowd -- the name of my poem.

The poem is a departure for me, a free-verse, free-wheeling run through the autumn leaves blowing about in my mind. It has been 231 days since my brother's gift brought me back from the brink of oblivion and started me down a new path. Obviously, the path has been (and remains) strewn with plenty of large, sharp stones and pervasive potholes. For each step forward, there has been a price, but a small price for living on, well beyond the six to eight month term limit predicted by my doctors prior to the stem cell transplant. Days like today make it seem the transplant was a lifetime ago. Each day of the 231 feels like a lifetime in microcosm, a full generation trapped in amber to be put on my shelf and re-visited...or at least dusted occasionally to keep the warm golden gleam kindled deep within as brilliant and mellow as possible.

How does one measure such treasure? How does one communicate the joy of pain, when pain is the proof of life, the immutable substance of existence, and the loving link to life among family and friends? Only poetry holds the promise and potential to paint, to sculpt, to visualize the full measure of the treasure.

Intrepid walker surveys Brockway Mtn.

The tree has a new ring

Summer is past and autumn announces the threat and promise of white winter. I have lived and grown since last we spoke, though in silence, in a solitary retreat from my habit of stridently announcing my current medical status to any and all who would stop and take notice. My younger son, Michael, came for a visit. Marian is currently in Federal Way, WA -- visiting with my daughter and two of our grandchildren. I did not travel, both to avoid two long entombments inside sealed tubes of aircraft aluminum, with concomitant exposure to viruses and bacteria, and to free Marian to enjoy time with grandchildren who would be hampered by rules not to touch grandpa -- the fellow in the Darth mask -- for nearly two weeks.

While the cat is away...

...there is no time to play! My days have been busy since Marian departed for Washington. I had my eyes checked and discovered that my far-sightedness in my right eye has degraded by a factor or four since my last check up (in 2008, oops). Apparently my sole remaining cataract, a yellow one, has decided to misbehave. Surgery is indicated, but I opted for a new lens in my glasses for the moment, as my doctors already want to me have my gall bladder removed in the next couple of weeks. Soon, I could give to meaning to the term: "Hollow Man."

I cleaned out my garage and actually managed to park our small car in there. It took nearly a full day of drudgery in a Darth mask, but it IS done. I raked both piles of leaves and bushels of apples from my yard...talk about a renewable resource...yikes! Today, I even managed to wash my own laundry and hang it outside to dry. I feel positively domestic.

Of course, all my activities (the above and much more) have been limited by my anemia and quickly-depleted batteries. At least, I have been sleeping well. All in all I am doing quite well, considering.

Thanks for all your ongoing prayers and good thoughts. Good afternoon, and God bless.

Mick

Mick McKellar Update--Day 219

We made it! I drove the full 400 miles to Gift of Life Transplant House in Rochester, MN today. My legs were screaming at me a bit at the end of the nine-hour car ride, but it was a nice day (after the thick fog burned off). We had patchy, dense fog from home until after we were well past Ashland, WI. Once the sun came out, the fog was history, and what started as a cool and damp morning ended as a sunny and warm afternoon.

I have a check up at Mayo Clinic tomorrow: blood tests, pulmonary function tests, and consultations with a pharmacy technician, my BMT coordinator, my doctor, and a surgeon (about the gall bladder episode). It will be a very full day...after which we hope to rest a few hours and head home early Friday morning.

Medically, I seem to be doing well. Despite an ongoing problem with pedal edema (involving my lower legs as well) and the ever-present fatigue thing, I feel I am doing very well indeed. My last set of blood tests (at Portage Health) were not reported to me by my local doctor or his staff, so I  hope to find out the results here tomorrow.

Marian and I walked down to Canadian Honker for dinner and found the senior portions, not only adequate, but more than enough. My only regret for the evening is that I must refrain from eating anything after 7:00 PM until after my blood tests tomorrow morning. I am allowed some water, coffee, tea, or diet soda tonight...but that's it. After midnight, I am allowed only sips of water (to take pills, etc.).

GOL North (in February)

Oh yes, this time, we are at the Gift of Life Transplant House North --705 Second St. SW -- right across the street from the South house (where we stayed the last two times). This is the original house and we have one of the original rooms (room B). It is older and a bit smaller than our room at the south house, but it is very comfortable and it has a charm only an older home can provide.

Well, I just wanted to let everyone know where we are. I hope to have more details and information about my condition and ongoing recovery tomorrow evening. God willing and the creek don't rise, I shall have time to post a bit more information and perhaps a photo or two from this trip. We didn't take photos of all the color this morning, as it was shrouded in dense, white fog. There were a few enticing, fog-shrouded shots along the way, but I was too focused on getting here to stop and record the images. We saw live deer on the road only once, a small group (about five of them) just past Twin Lakes.

I am hoping my doctor will prescribe something for my swollen and painful legs, ankles, and feet. I have not been walking as much as I need to -- and when I do walk, I must look like a drunken man, weaving down the sidewalk. One older fellow tonight (as we were walking back from dinner), said to me: "Looks like it's time for a cane!" I grimaced as pleasantly as I could and lumbered on at Marian's side...concentrating on putting one swollen, heavy leg in front of the other, propelling my carcass down the sidewalk. I feels like I'm walking on tingling water balloons instead of feet. What a concept!

Enough for now. Twilight arrives earlier than expected these days, especially in the central daylight time zone. Thanks for all your prayers and good thoughts.

God bless and good evening,

Mick

Mick McKellar Update--Day +202

I hardly noticed as I passed day 200 since my transplant. After my recent bout with my recalcitrant gall bladder, my numbers have rebounded slowly to where they were before the attack. We are praying for further improvement. I will, of course, have more information after we visit with the doctors at Mayo Clinic on September 29th.

Turn on the heat...oops!

Wednesday morning was very chilly and I (reluctantly) gave the old thermostat a twist and turned on the heat. About a half hour later, I turned the heat off again. However, the blower on the furnace continued to run and run and run. Finally, because it was still running on Friday morning, we called for service. Jokingly, I told Marian I was going to grab my rubber mallet and "adjust" the furnace. When the repair person arrived, he opened the front panel and rapped the switch with his screwdriver. The blower stopped. Unfortunately, it would not start again...even after a good cleaning. So...we had the switch replaced. Ouch!

I suppose I should not complain too much, as we had the furnace installed in 1985 or 1986 and it was not required servicing (except cleaning) since. Still, the repair cost was a blow -- especially after replacing our television less than a week earlier. (The old set, only 15 years old, died a quick and unexpected death last week.)

Remembering

Today's services and radio/television coverage has focused on the events of 9/11/2001. As with most of my friends, I remembered watching the disaster unfold on television. I was working for Michigan Technological University then (before they terminated my position in 2004), in the Information Technology department. Later that night, I was moved to write two poems. One addresses the spirits of the lost, the other the depth of insecurity I felt as a result of the attacks.

To honor the memory of the lost and commemorate the day, here are my poems from September 11, 2001.

God bless and good evening,

Mick

Warm Rain - Broken Dreams

We hear you walking on our massive grave.
We feel the warm rain falling from your eyes.
We hear the steady beat of hearts so brave -
A counterpoint, to hundred million cries
Of horror, disbelief, and anger dark,
Rising from the depth where vengeance lies.
A prayer of sorrow sung to music stark,
A scream of terror rising to the skies,
Our broken bodies sing, of spirits fled
Away, among the clouds where eagle flies.
And as our names are numbered with the dead,
And as we fly where courage never dies,
The warm and loving rain of hope still streams,
Upon the broken soil of shattered dreams.

Mick McKellar
September 2001

Death of Sleep

It seems to me an age ago I slept.
I closed my eyes, and snuggled warm and free
Of worry, or of eyes that often wept
For heroes, now entombed in dark debris.
At times, I feel I live a world away
From twisted metal, powdered stone, and pain.
But, then the ghastly images take sway -
Review the awful memories again.
The vast and placid lands that are my home,
Once offered all the safety I could need;
But now, I know the enemy can come
To steal away that peace with lightning speed!
And as we ponder war in our great pain,
Sometimes, I think I'll never sleep again.

Mick McKellar
September 2001

Mick McKellar Update--Day +194

I did better this time, it has only been nine days since my last posting.

Mayo Clinic set my next appointment for a follow up visit: September 29, 2011. Once again we will leave on a Wednesday (the 28th) and hope to return on the following Friday (the 30th). The doctors at Mayo Clinic seemed pleased with the numbers generated by my weekly blood tests, even though my last hemoglobin count was down again...to 8.7 g/dL (normal for men is: 13.8 to 18.0 g/dL). My other numbers are generally good, some even near normal.

There appear to be no lingering effects from my latest hospital adventure: The Old Man and the Gall Stone. I will see a surgeon in Rochester regarding recommendations on removing a recalcitrant gall bladder when I visit next. At least, I managed to stay five days in a hospital and not bring home any infections or diseases I didn't bring in with me.

Folks ask me how I am doing...

In general, I feel quite well, although my energy level depletes quickly and there appears to be no reserve. I find that afternoon naps, when I can arrange to get them, are quite helpful. I am having no pain other than that which comes from using muscles too long on hiatus. Three times in the last week, I raked apples from under our trees -- I raked them and Marian collected them with a snow shovel and a little red wagon (Radio Flyer) for dumping in a special composting area. The pain in my shoulders and upper back reminded me of how long it had been since I did any raking.

I mowed it all myself...

I managed to mow the entire yard yesterday, and took some photographs to commemorate the occasion. It was cloudy and cool in the morning...perfect weather for a person suffering from medication-induced photophobia. Unlike the latest edition vampires, I do not sparkle in the sun...I just turn red and feel really rotten for hours after exposure. At least three of my medications warn against prolonged exposure to any sunlight, natural or artificial. There are no tanning booths in my near future. Maybe I will join the Pale Force.

The intrepid walker also managed two days of two-mile walks (accomplished in the late evening, just before the sun goes down and there are plenty of shadows in which to hide). Unless there is construction or grass mowing or other dust-producing activity, I can even walk without the benefit of the Darth mask.

Good news and bad news...

First the molasses: After all my complaining, BCBSM may have discovered errors in billing and payment, as well as miscommunication between BCBS of Minnesota and BCBS of Michigan causing these extraordinary additional billings from Mayo Clinic. We may not owe as much as we were told. Our last payment nearly broke the bank...

Now the sulphur: Two times the technology troubles in a single week. First, we sent our Nikon Coolpix camera in to Nikon for repair only to be told that the view screen was somehow cracked and bleeding...and the damage is not covered under warranty. They want more than $105 to repair a camera that cost me about $85 to purchase. Not going to happen. I found a nice Kodak Easy Share at Wal~Mart for around $70. Nice price, but it still hurts.

I still have not determined how the view screen cracked itself while sitting quietly on my desktop between uses. Odd, that...

Second, our ancient (about 15 years old), 27-inch, combination space heater and television quietly expired -- right in the middle of Marian's favorite soap opera. We bit the bloody bullet and bought a 26" LED LCD HDTV from Vizio at Wal~Mart (last one in stock). It is the largest flat screen that will fit in our old entertainment center, but certainly big enough for our tiny living room. Another ouchy just hit our account. I am hoping it will partially pay for itself in energy savings and reduced eyestrain.

Writing the great American memoir...

Several folks have indicated that I should publish my journal as a book, and share my experiences along the leukemia/blood and marrow transplant journey. I think it is a grand idea, and will work on it as my chemo-brain allows. Editing and formatting a book requires energy and concentration at levels I cannot yet maintain for long. However, I feel I am getting stronger and will keep everyone posted on my progress.

Of course, I still have to find a publisher willing to take a chance on an "unpublished" author. If you know anyone interested in publishing the story of my 100 days plus, the journey of a leukemia survivor and his transplant experience, please let me know. It would be a real motivator to know that a publisher was interested.

Well, it's getting on toward time for my next barrage of pills and a quick supper. Thanks you all for the prayers and good thoughts.

God bless and good evening,

Mick