The Tunnel at the Beginning of the Light

During the last few days, we have transitioned into a new phase of Myla's chemotherapy. The first 10 days were carefully measured by one chemo treatment after the next. Then that phase ended, and with it went the sense of measurable progress. There were no chemo treatments to check off. Now what?

If you have been to a televised football game know how anticlimactic TV time outs can be. One moment of the game is marked by intensity and rising the drama, and the next moment is just 22 players standing around looking like rhinos at the zoo on a slow day. Meanwhile, fans at the game can only wait as viewers at home watch Maria Sharapova snap pictures of that white rat-dog followed by ads featuring heavy-duty pickup trucks crashing through one block wall after the next. (By the way, if Chevy is supposed to be "like a rock," then why are GMC trucks constantly crashing through rock-like walls? Isn't that like, "A house divided against itself can't stand?" Or am I just reading too much into this?) Anyway, we've just been waiting during these last few days to see how Myla's system responds to the chemo.

We got a positive report from one of the doctors over the weekend. Myla's monocytes appeared to be reappearing, and that's a precursor of her immune system restoring itself. Today's blood tests, however, had the monocytes back at zero, so no rebuilding to report yet. Hopefully tomorrow. The initial report led one of the doctors to tell Melissa, "This isn't the light at the end of the tunnel, but at least we see the tunnel." So, the revised report, I guess, is that we hope the tunnel is just around the next bend.

We've had some encouraging developments during the last couple of days. The first one I can't share in detail yet, but I'll have more on this exciting development in the weeks that follow.

Second, we received a bouquet of cookies from Jenn and Don, both former students that I've had the pleasure learning from at Indiana University Kokomo. Thanks so much! I'm sure we'll eat the cookies, but in the meantime, the bouquet will make a great centerpiece to one of the Sandra Lee "tablescapes" that I make for each meal we have at the hospital. Finally, we received a large flock of cranes from Michael and Michelle Pothoven, two siblings from Plant City, Florida. They look great, and I'm sure they'll be fun for Myla to look at. Here are also some encouraging verses that Mary, their mother, included in the package.

Upon returning home today, Raul Matthew and I found several additional reasons to be thankful including a care package from David and Terese, and a cool 3-D card from DeDe (cat not included), dinner money from my Grandma Jones, and a Starbucks giftcard from Raul & Lucy Canez. We were also encouraged by kind notes from Jeff; Jane, Dale, & Sean; Bob & Janie, Kelly & Ed, Jerry & Joyce (check out the great handwriting here!); and Roger & Carmen. There are many more people that I want to thank on the blog, and hopefully I'll get a chance to do that in the next couple of days. Not being able to be at the hospital much has slowed me down in this respect.

I also want to say a special thanks to Julie for entertaining Raul Matthew while I taught class this afternoon!

Also, thanks to the Genesis class at Bible Baptist Church in Kokomo for the giftcard to convenient stores of, Speedway.

And now, without further ado, the pictures:

1. Our cat, Britley, standing guard over the cranes (yeah, right).
2. Oscar the Grouch tends to Myla.
3. Myla sleeping over Melissa's shoulder.
4. Myla laughing.
5. The messed-up parking situation on IU Kokomo's campus.
6. Two of my favorite students. I'm not sure who the two in the middle are. :)
7. The ubiquitous Epi-Clenz at Riley Hospital. Doctors and nurses use this cleanser each time they enter and exit our hospital room.
8. Myla getting her temperature checked. Here's how the ladybug on the ceiling saw this.
9. Myla looking around, smiling despite the cold stethoscope, and sleeping.
10. Raul Matthew and his grandmother working on projects in the hospital room.
11. A rare picture of me holding Myla.
12. Myla, again.

Fair warning: Tomorrow's post will fill you in on the details you missed leading up to Myla's hospitalization. "The Quest for Myla's Diagnosis--The Untold Story." Or something. This post will mainly explain what happened. On Friday, I want to follow with a related post about how Melissa and I have emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically processed the stratospheric levels of uncertainty during the early days of Myla's condition. And, eventually, I'll write the "Mylan Creed," which will be a more thorough and systematic explanation of how we have interpreted her condition.