My dad died yesterday. 21 ⬆
👤 BoozyGroggyElfchild 📅 6/24/2019, 4:08:51 PM
I was not my dad's primary companion to doctor's visits, so some of the details may be incorrect or mixed up, but I wanted to share my dad's story. At least an abbreviated version it.
He was first diagnosed in February 2017, at the age of 70. His initial symptoms were neck pain, caused by extensive bone lesions and he needed immediate neck surgery to repair the bone damage. About 6 weeks later, he began chemo. I don’t recall the exact cocktail of drugs, but revlimid was included. After one (!) round of chemo, he was deemed cancer free. His doctor did another round of chemo, just for the heck of it, before his stem-cell transplant on June 29, 2017. He came out in the other side, and was deemed completely cancer-free!
His lambda count was zero for over a year. About 14 months after the transplant, that count began to rise, and in December 2018 it was officially classified as a relapse. I avoided reading a lot of literature after his initial diagnosis and successful treatment, but I did recall reading about the 100% relapse rate, so his relapse didn't come as a shock to me. I read a little bit more to find out what I could expect, and I quickly found out that relapses so soon after transplant usually meant trouble. His counts began to be high enough for treatment in February.
He was again started on revlimid, and a host of other drugs (that I simply couldn't keep track of) until May. His blood counts were taken every three weeks, and not once was any progress evident. He simply wasn't responding. On May 24, he received his first Darzalex treatment, and to say that it wiped him out would be an understatement. He was tired, and it seemed like the fight was wiped from him. He received two further Darzalex treatments, along with a blood transfusion, with still no improvements in any of his counts. His lambda count was over 500.
My mother brought him to the ER on the morning of June 13. His pulse ox was 81, he'd fallen in the middle of the night a few nights prior and was unable to get himself up. My once unstoppable father was so frail. When he arrived at the ER, his body was leaking cardiac enzymes because his heart had to work so hard to counter his low red counts. His platelets were effectively zero. He had pneumonia. He was given platelet infusions, antibiotics, and a full transfusion, but still his blood counts were dire.
After being treated in the cardiac ward for four days, he was moved into palliative care, with the thinking that he'd been wiped out from the Darzelex treatments, and that he might be able to return home for a few comfortable, treatment-free weeks. For three days in palliative care, he got stronger. His lungs were clearing, he was eating more, and he was getting strong enough to speak. After a wonderful night, on Thursday 6/20, surrounded by family he crashed. That was the last night I'd have a conversation with him. Although he wasn't actively getting worse, his red count was still low enough to give him trouble breathing. Friday and Saturday saw him transferred to hospice care, and his breathing became more and more labored. At around 3:00am on Sunday 6/23, he took his last breath.
I'm thankful that we got a few good days with him at the end, and that he died before he was in any pain. If anyone reading this wants to chat, please fee free to send me a private message.
Love and light to all of you fighting MM and those with loved ones who are.
He was first diagnosed in February 2017, at the age of 70. His initial symptoms were neck pain, caused by extensive bone lesions and he needed immediate neck surgery to repair the bone damage. About 6 weeks later, he began chemo. I don’t recall the exact cocktail of drugs, but revlimid was included. After one (!) round of chemo, he was deemed cancer free. His doctor did another round of chemo, just for the heck of it, before his stem-cell transplant on June 29, 2017. He came out in the other side, and was deemed completely cancer-free!
His lambda count was zero for over a year. About 14 months after the transplant, that count began to rise, and in December 2018 it was officially classified as a relapse. I avoided reading a lot of literature after his initial diagnosis and successful treatment, but I did recall reading about the 100% relapse rate, so his relapse didn't come as a shock to me. I read a little bit more to find out what I could expect, and I quickly found out that relapses so soon after transplant usually meant trouble. His counts began to be high enough for treatment in February.
He was again started on revlimid, and a host of other drugs (that I simply couldn't keep track of) until May. His blood counts were taken every three weeks, and not once was any progress evident. He simply wasn't responding. On May 24, he received his first Darzalex treatment, and to say that it wiped him out would be an understatement. He was tired, and it seemed like the fight was wiped from him. He received two further Darzalex treatments, along with a blood transfusion, with still no improvements in any of his counts. His lambda count was over 500.
My mother brought him to the ER on the morning of June 13. His pulse ox was 81, he'd fallen in the middle of the night a few nights prior and was unable to get himself up. My once unstoppable father was so frail. When he arrived at the ER, his body was leaking cardiac enzymes because his heart had to work so hard to counter his low red counts. His platelets were effectively zero. He had pneumonia. He was given platelet infusions, antibiotics, and a full transfusion, but still his blood counts were dire.
After being treated in the cardiac ward for four days, he was moved into palliative care, with the thinking that he'd been wiped out from the Darzelex treatments, and that he might be able to return home for a few comfortable, treatment-free weeks. For three days in palliative care, he got stronger. His lungs were clearing, he was eating more, and he was getting strong enough to speak. After a wonderful night, on Thursday 6/20, surrounded by family he crashed. That was the last night I'd have a conversation with him. Although he wasn't actively getting worse, his red count was still low enough to give him trouble breathing. Friday and Saturday saw him transferred to hospice care, and his breathing became more and more labored. At around 3:00am on Sunday 6/23, he took his last breath.
I'm thankful that we got a few good days with him at the end, and that he died before he was in any pain. If anyone reading this wants to chat, please fee free to send me a private message.
Love and light to all of you fighting MM and those with loved ones who are.