We have a schedule

Greg got a call with the schedule earlier in the week, but this is the first chance I've had to blog.
Greg's admission date for the transplant is Sunday. From what I understand, that's pretty well carved in stone. Grandma Sadie & Auntie Skibby are enroute as I write this.

The original stem cell donor didn't work out for some reason (the 27 year old guy). So, we have a new donor, a 30 year old woman. (She's a 7/8 match as well). That's about all we are allowed to know for the first 2 years. The only additional fact they'll give us is that she is "from a European country." I'll leave the buxom blonde Scandinavian jokes to Ian. Because she's an international donor, Greg had to sign a whole bunch of extra consents just in case she has some rare tropical disease. Again, I'll leave the jokes to the commentors (commenters?).

So, I'm writing this from the outpatient treatment clinic in St. Louis, as Greg has to have his central line (fancy IV) placed at or before admission, and the vascular surgeons don't work weekends (and, this is a holiday weekend, too). Also, they "forgot" to order the final typing of Greg's blood needed before the transplant. Its just one crummy vial of blood that they could have drawn anytime in the last several inpatient and outpatient trips we've made up here, but no one ordered it. We're really getting used to being at the mercy of the health care system. Sigh.

The plan for today is plateletes (he needs to be at 50 before the line can be placed -- he hasn't been at 50 in over a year! This a.m. he was at 12), plus 2 units of whole blood, plus the line placement. They have assured us he will get to go home tonight, but I don't believe them anymore. I told Greg I will believe it when we're south of I-270, and not before. The ONE thing I've learned is to be skeptical. I packed for 2 days.

We drove up last night, arriving about 10 p.m. Eric is flying solo again, pizza money in hand, and Matthew stayed overnight at the babysitter's, Julie England. I can't thank her enough. I figured Matthew would be thrilled to have a sleepover with Emma, the love of his life, but alas, it was not to be. Yesterday morning he had a complete meltdown, saying he didn't want to stay, he was scared, etc. etc. etc. This, of course, triggered a meltdown on my part. That made Greg start to go. Eric took one look at all of us, started to tear up & bolted for the door, on his way to school. I spent the drive to Julie's trying to negotiate with little Clarence Darrow in the back seat. It was like trying to convince the hanging judge to grant clemency in a death penalty case. I used all my best arguments. Finally, after Julie assured him they had a hallway light, and I showed him that I packed his favorite night light, plus "Licky" the dog, he grudgingly condeded. All was right with the world. Or so I thought.

It appears everything was chugging along nicely until, at 7:30 last night, I made the critical mistake of calling him to say goodnight. The first half of the conversation was great. Then, all hell broke loose. He completely lost it. (Sorry Julie!) I promised I wouldn't call back to talk to him today. I just called & spoke to Julie's mom though, and seems he got over it pretty quickly, and was excited to stay at Emma's overnight. Kids are so fickle.

That's about all I can think of for now. We hope for a quiet 2 days with the kids, & still have a ton of stuff to do before we can leave for 3 to 4 weeks. The amount of coordination needed is amazing. I'm putting the finishing touches on the "Care & Feeding Manual -- 2009 Edition."

We're rapidly approaching zero hour. Greg, although scared, is amazingly calm, knowing this is all out of our hands. I alternate between that and being on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But, no time for that!

Please keep those prayers coming. Also, thanks for all the good wishes and help from everyone. I know I say it all the time, but we really couldn't be getting through this without all of you.

Love,

Greg & Ann