Liz turned 19 years old one month ago. This year is the first Presidential election in which she can vote. She could buy cigarettes if she was dumb enough to start smoking (she’s not). She can enjoy all the privileges and responsibilities of adulthood except drinking alcohol—something she’s currently forbidden to do anyone under the rules of her treatment anyway.

It also completely jacked up her health coverage.

It snuck up on us, even if kick myself for not being more on top of things. But once we realized that Liz was about to lose her health insurance at the end of May I shoved everything else to the side and made protecting treatment her my full-time job. It took weeks of research, phone calls, questions, paperwork, and meetings, but we can claim success! Liz is protected. She is currently under emergency financial assistance through the hospital, and her case is currently being reviewed by Social Security to qualify her as an adult with disability, and with that automatically get insurance through the government. (Both her diagnosis and the upcoming treatment are automatic qualifiers under the current guidelines of the SSA.) As of Monday I was able to let out the breath I was holding for nearly a month.

Now we can focus on the painful and potentially dangerous treatment coming up in just a few weeks: Bone Marrow (Stem Cell) Transplantation.

As her donor, I’ve had my own share of appointments for tests and screening just as Liz has endured her own. So far, so good.

What’s next? Well …

>> After a few more educational and consultation appointments, I begin self-injecting a drug called Neupogen—two shots a dose, two doses a day. This will stimulate my bone marrow into high gear and push stem cells out into my blood stream so it can be collected. “Deep bone pain” is a side-effect I can look forward to.

>> Liz will begin undergoing high-dose chemotherapy, leading directly into full-body radiation treatments. The goal is kill the majority of her existing bone marrow (and the cancer hiding within) to make room for the cells I’m donating to her.

>> Both of us will have heart catheters implanted. Mine will be short-term, one that I’ll keep for only about 48 hours and will be used during the stem cell collection process. Liz is getting a long-term catheter that she’ll keep for several years until she reaches the point in her recovery that she no longer needs it. The subdermal port she currently has will be removed and replaced with the new access.

>> I’ll be spending a few quality hours with my heart cath hooked up to a huge machine, my blood being cycled in and out to collect the stem cells that will be given to Liz. In theory they’ll get everything they need in one go, but I may have to do it twice if the first batch doesn’t have enough cells to ensure success.

>> June 24th will be Liz’s “new birthday.” We check into the hospital, where she’ll stay for a minimum of five days. She’ll receive my stem cells much the same as she would any blood transfusion, and the cells will flow through her body and set up shop in the place of her bone marrow that was destroyed by the chemo and radiation.

>> Once the highest-risk period of fevers and severe complications has passed within that first week, Liz will be able to go home and continue as an outpatient. But that means daily visits to the clinic every single day from 7:00 AM for at least six hours, continuing for the first month post-transplant. If things are going well, she’ll then be able to transition to going in every other day. She’ll be receiving fluids, blood and platelet transfusions, drug therapies, and constant evaluation to monitor her progress during the recovery process.

Liz is getting new bone marrow, a new immune system, and a new blood type all donated by yours truly. This is likely a full cure for her leukemia, but now puts her at risk for Graft vs. Host Disease—caused by my donated immune system attacking the “strange” cells in Liz’s body.

It’s a long, painful, and difficult road. Things are about to get rougher both for Liz and our family than they have since that first month of her diagnosis.

Many of you have asked “What can I do? How can I help?” Tomorrow I’ll offer some possible answers to those questions.

Thank You, one and all, for all the prayers, kind thoughts, donations, gifts, service, food, and favors we’ve received since this all began.

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