When I relapsed my doctor, whom I still love, honor and cherish for all that he has done for my family and my self, told me that I might not have more than 6-8 months to live (which would be about January). At that point, my family and I knew that they could no longer do anything more for us. Leaving Dr. Moran and Monica in Boulder, and Dr. Brunvand was a terribly difficult and excruciating desicion, but one that came relatively easily. The pain on his face and the disappointment I could feel in his soul...the tears that fell from Monica onto my back as she drilled me for the last time (the biopsy that would tell us what we all already knew), reinforced for all us that we needed to go home. We needed to be with our family. At this time, I believed that I was going home to die...and this is still where I want to die. The soul seems to know where it needs to be when it finds itself distressed.
I never thought that death would be so much of a choice. For instance, I could have chosen no treatment and I would likely be dead by now. Second, I could chose to try to go into remission and wait for death to come knocking. Third, I could try for remission and do maintainence chemo and wait light to come streaming out of the tunnel, or I could go into remission and do a cord blood transplant.
Before we knew that I would be a good match for a cord blood transplant...I was went through several stages of death, or a least stages of chosing death. I would like to go through them, but I will do them individually, just try to keep me on track.
Please note that our choice to come here had nothing whatsoever to do with being disappointed with any doctor or nurse we have ever had. They are all a tremendous part of my heart and always will be.
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