In my last entry I told you that I was getting tired and short of breath without much cause, and that I was waiting for my monthly lab results to see if I was having a relapse. This past Tuesday (March 11) I had my monthly lab tests done. The results were normal for me. I was relieved to hear this since I had been close to holding my breath for three weeks over my unusual symptoms. As far as Krissy and I could tell, there was nothing in my blood counts to indicate that there was anything wrong with my marrow, and my blood chemistry showed that my kidneys are chugging along at about 40% of normal function like they have been for months. *Whew*
Whenever I have labs done, I wait a few hours and then call my local oncologist's (cancer doctor's) office. A nurse there gives me any lab results that I want over the phone. After all this time they know me well and don't mind doing this for me. I like getting the results on the same day the tests are done. Naturally, Krissy and I can't interpret the results as well as a doctor can, but after spending almost a year at Hershey Medical Center, we can draw general conclusions from my labs.
Since the lab results didn't show anything obviously wrong, on Wednesday I called my transplant nurse at Hershey and asked her what they thought down there. She said she had told my transplant oncologist about my symptoms. He said that he saw no problems in my lab results, and that my symptoms could be caused by something as simple as a mild viral infection. My transplant nurse told me to relax, that she would call me if anything important turned up. She hadn't called as of Friday, and after a sleepy weekend I decided not to wait any longer to write this entry.
I plan to call two other doctors this week about possible causes for my symptoms. If these two doctors can suggest anything significant, I'll let you know. But the good news is that I don't appear to be having a relapse.
Take away a nine year old boy's action toys and you'll have a sulking child. At this age, my favorite store-bought action game was called "Battling Tops," which may not be familiar to you. This was 37 years ago, after all. Could they possibly still make this game? In case they don't, I'll give you a quick description of it. The game had a round, concave, arena-like playing area with four player stations at equal distances around the perimeter. The playing pieces were four plastic tops, several inches high. Each player got one top and a small plastic ring with a length of thread attached to it. The ring fit over the player's index finger and the thread wrapped tightly around a top quite a few times. The top was then placed in the player's station, which was designed to hold the top steady until the game began. All players pulled their rings at the same time, causing the tops to spin furiously in the concave playing area. From this point on, all the players could do was watch and hope. The tops would whack repeatedly into each other, making a surprising amount of noise, until all the tops except one either fell over or were flung out of the arena, often at impressive speeds. The winner was the player who had the last top still spinning. 
When I was 10 years old, my favorite cartoon was an action-packed thriller called Jonny Quest. Unlike any other cartoon, the considerable violence on this program was realistic: not graphic, but definitely far more believable than Bugs Bunny/Road Runner pseudo-violence. Bad guys usually met with swift and imaginative deaths. I wasn't interested in seeing anyone die, but I loved the high level of action. I also loved the realistic detail of the animation. 
When I was seven years old, my family moved to a suburb of Chicago. Our new home was modest, pleasant, and agreeable in every way, except that it was located under a high-traffic, low-altitude approach path to O'Hare Airport. At first we didn't like the constant noise from the jet engines, but surprisingly, we adjusted to it quickly. Somehow we learned to tune out most of the constant roaring.
Like many eight-year-old boys, I loved dinosaurs. I didn't have any dinosaurtoys or action figures, which my parents probably would have bought for me if it had ever occurred to me to ask for any. Instead, I spent hours memorizing every available fact and theory about these ancient reptiles. My information was provided by many oversized, heavily illustrated books produced for my age group, which my Dad did buy for me. 
The Apollo 11 mission gripped the world as one of the most compelling nine days in history. The mission boasted the first manned Moon landing on July 20, 1969. That day at 10:56 PM EDT, when Neil Armstrong became the first human to stand on the Moon's surface, my eyes were glued to our television screen. I was seven years old, but my parents let me stay up late to watch an event which would fascinate me for the rest of my life. Despite being absorbed in the NASA images of Moon rocks and dust being collected for analysis on Earth, I felt sad for astronaut Michael Collins. He had to remain orbiting the Moon while Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin explored the lunar surface and got all the glory. 
Star Trek's famous Starship Enterprise first voyaged to distant, imaginary worlds on September 8, 1966, nearly three years before Apollo 11. Science fiction can leap beyond factual science where rockets are the most advanced propulsion system available. The Enterprise journeyed between stars at incredible speeds by using warp engines, which physicists rightly reject as pure fantasy. But that doesn't stop millions of us from thoroughly enjoying the many fictional tales from the Star Trek universe. Obviously, none of the five Star Trek television series or 10 big screen movies ever tried to explain warp drive, but we have been given some tantalizing details. 
In high school, the original Star Trek series fascinated me. Let me speak from experience: This television program never would have worked without futuristic technology and adventure, but another aspect of the show kept me focused intently on the series. Like many viewers, I watched Star Trek to follow the relationships and experiences of its cast of characters. In some ways I saw a reflection of myself and others in the members of this starship crew. For example, I admired Captain Kirk's courage and self-confidence. I wished that I could be like him in these ways, but his quickness to use force and his smooth success with women made it difficult for me to relate to him. I was a painfully shy teenager who was socially awkward and was virtually an outcast among my fellow students. No, Kirk was not a reflection of me. He reminded me more of the popular, athletic boys at school. Then there was Dr. McCoy; he genuinely cared about people, but he was prone to being irritable. Also, he was suspicious of science and technology even though he was a physician and a scientist himself. No, McCoy also was not a reflection of me. I did care about people, but I didn't want to be socially abrasive like McCoy. And again unlike him, I saw science as a great hope for the future of humanity. McCoy reminded me of some adults I had met or heard of. 
What challenges me is to capture in words the unique beauty that my wife brings to my world. My words won't adequiately describe her, but I'll try anyway. Krissy loves me; when she first confessed her deep feelings nine years ago, the revelation stunned me. No other woman had ever loved me, and I had lost hope that any woman ever would. That her commitment to our relationship hasn't wavered for almost a decade is still a source of wonder to me. What she sees in me that other women dismissed as insignificant baffles my mind. But whatever she sees has been compelling enough to keep her with me through two cancers and a bone marrow transplant. And my first cancer was diagnosed just four months after we met! That and her willingness to marry me is amazing. I haven't even mentioned her intelligence, her sense of humor, our mutual interests and values, her imagination and playfulness, her patience, and a long list of other qualities that she has. I could write volumes about what has made our relationship precious and still not cover all the details of why I love her. My wife Krissy is completely cool.
I've heard Jethro Tull called the original Alternative Rock band. Musically and lyrically, they are superior to, and far more artistic than, most popular musicians; frequent use of diverse instruments lends their tracks a unique but pleasing sound. Jethro Tull writes largely about the profound social and political issues of our time. A fondness for descriptive detail breathes life into their viewpoints, which are thought-provoking and persuasive. I've enjoyed many of their albums, with the exception of Aqualung, which has a strong atheistic theme. It saddens me to know that they reject religion, but you don't have to agree with everything artists believe to benefit from their work. Jethro Tull's tracks are thoroughly enjoyable; artists who both inform and entertain are doubly cool.
Are you familiar with baroque music? If all of you were, my job in this paragraph would be unnecessary. I have to assume, though, that some of you are drawing a blank. Baroque was a period in European music between 1600 and 1750, marked by an elaborate and ornamental style, which preceded the Classical music era. Now before your eyes glaze over, let me assure you that this won't become a lecture in music history. Elaborate and ornamental -- what does that mean, right? Trying to understand any kind of music by a textbook definition without actually hearing some of it performed is an almost hopeless task. What I would like to do, if you've never heard baroque played, is urge you to give it a chance. Maybe you've heard classical music and didn't like it. You still might find that you like baroque. Let me give you a popular example to listen to and let you judge for yourself: 
Australian hats have a unique style that brings to mind the Outback, exotic animals, and adventure. My wife wanted to buy me a wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun off my face and neck since bone marrow transplant recipients are at high risk for skin cancer. I picked an Aussie hat that was distinctive and good looking. We chose a hat over sunscreen because shade is more effective than chemicals, and a fine hat can improve your appearance. A little help from Australia is welcome, because avoiding a third cancer can only be cool.
God has been my friend since before I was born, even during those years when I spent my time in rebellious pursuits. He was with me during my treatment for cancer, especially during my many, sometimes life-threatening, complications to my bone marrow transplant. God kept me alive through those difficult times because He has a plan for my life. Doctors, medications, and transplants are several ways God heals us of our illnesses. Supernatural miracles may be the exception rather than the rule; He can heal us that way, but He often chooses to help us help each other. This does not diminish God's role in the treatments that lead to our cures. I am deeplygrateful to God and my doctors for my recovery. Having a friend like God is eternally cool.
