Blast Those Blasts
Today, Drs. Albano and Ashley stopped by to see how the girlie was doing. They had received the report on Alyson’s bone marrow this morning and wanted to come talk with me. Unfortunately, we’re past day 14 and there are still blasts in her marrow. Thus, she is now classified as a Slow Responder. The cure rates are the same but her treatments are going to be worse. A lot worse.
We’re now in the “Augmented Therapy” group. After this first part of Induction, we’ll head into Phase II: consolidation as planned. However, instead of lasting 4 weeks, it will be for 8-10 weeks. The first four weeks will consist of a spinal tap each week and 5 chemo drugs. Then, we’ll see where her counts are and how long we’ll need to wait to do it all over again. That’s where the week 9 and 10 come in to play. Sometimes you’re able to start again right away and sometimes you need to wait a week or two.
By day 29, we should not see any leukemia cells (blasts) in her marrow. This happens in 98% of all kids on Augmented Therapy. If she is in the other 2%, she’ll need to receive a bone marrow transplant and her likelyhood of cure would decrease. I didn’t ask by how much.
The second set of 4 weeks will not have weekly spinal taps. Little silver linings.
Phase III: Interim Maintenance and Phase IV: Delayed Intensification happen next. And then again. Instead of five phases total, Alyson will have seven. Induction, Consolidation, Interim Maintenance, Delayed Intensification, Interim Maintenance #2, Delayed Intensification #2 and then Maintenance.
Dr. Albano also told me to be prepared to be in the hospital. Everything is outpatient for treatments but with all the poison we’ll be pumping in to that little body; she’ll be in such a sorry state that many parents end up spending a lot of time in the hospital.
I’ve cried a little already while Alyson is sleeping. I’m alternating between feeling sad and totally angry at the leukemia. I want to go inside her and scream GET OUT OF MY BABY!!! And then I cry.
It’s almost like getting a diagnosis all over again. Not quite but the feelings are the same. At this point, I can only hope to stabilize out sooner. I’ve know for about an hour now.
((Hugs)). I wish I could in there too and scream with you. Strength in numbers
. We’re all here for you.
Wow, so now we have suckiness *squared*!! Ugh. We’re rooting for her to be in the 98% club.
Hey, if prayer helps, cheers probably can too. Go Team Alyson!!!
I have tears rolling down my face. I can’t imagine how let down you must have felt. I am trying to come up with positive words for you, but I just can’t. All I can think is how unfair this is, it stinks, it sucks, and I’m angry, too. Damn lukemia!
I really, really wish there was something I could do for you, Alyson, and the boys. I wish I were there to help with something. Know you’re in my thoughts often.
Great-big hugs. Will be meditating and praying on/for a quicker stabilization for Alyson.
Love, Jo & family
I am so disappointed for you guys. It is like hearing the diagnosis again, for me, too.
You know, whenever I see L, I think of you guys. We grew our girls together, and lived so close. My heart aches.
It’s just not fair.
I am absolutely praying for you all.
I feel sad and angry too, on Alyson’s behalf. Argh!
Come on, Alyson, you can do it!
Sending love, strength, and good vibes. And laughter too. Laughter always helps, right? On that note, here’s are a couple of silly jokes for Alyson….
Why didn’t the banana snore?
Because it didn’t want to wake up the rest of the bunch!
What kind of car does Minnie Mouse drive?
A Minnie Van.
Hugs,
Stacia and family
Julie,
Please give that baby a hug for me. You’re both constantly in my thoughts.
Tamy