Friday, June 4, 2010

And the Winner of Survivor: Myelomaville is.........

As I walked down the dimly lighted, moon cast path towards Jeff Probes, the host of Survivor: Myelomaville, I nearly trembled at the thought of winning it all. After months of grueling, bone rattling events filled with blood, sweat and tears, the tribes had merged and I, the last man standing from the Wentangotatranzplant tribe, and Eva, the last member of the Revadexavelcamid  tribe, were vying for the ultimate prize- a Myeloma cure.

As we bravely marched into the decision area, I glanced over at the full jury box and saw the doctors, patients, researchers, biopsy techs, RNs, and caregivers that had previously  been voted off the island of misfit plasma cells. They looked simultaneously perplexed that I was one of the last two contestants and hopeful that the path that would come to be known as the route-to-the-cure, was the one that they had ventured down.  I wanted a cure, but I wanted Eva to be cured, too. Could there be a tie? Were we all on the right path? Or worse, were we all on the wrong path?

We carried the flaming torches which signified ‘continued life’ and secured them into the ring around  the adjacent Remission Pit.  The ever charismatic Probes directed us to sit in the jungle themed infusion chairs. With his best Hollywood smile, he informed us that after countless months of doing tests and medication challenges and invasive procedures and securing second mortgages, it was time to read the final lab results.

‘And the winner of Survivor: Myelomaville and the ultimate cure is….”

Ahhhhh!! That’s when a world-class, drug induced, Rev/Dex/Velcade foot cramp woke me up from my dream. Or maybe it was the scream, emitted either because I was in such pain, or because I had won, or lost, the Survivor prize-  I’m not really sure. In any event, I was fully awake at 3:00 am with no clear-cut answers.

I’m in CR, but am I cured? Jeff Probes and the cast of hopefuls were nowhere in sight. Eva wasn’t there. Maybe that was a good thing. I didn’t really want them to see me reduced to tears, furiously rubbing my treasonous foot.

Karen woke with a start, rolled over and asked ‘Are you alright, honey?’ ‘Yeah,  guess so. Gonna’ try to get back to sleep.’ ‘Good. Remember, tomorrow is the Relay for Life and you have to go pick up your Survivor t-shirt. Good night, Champ. Pleasant dreams.”    

Keep your eyes on the prize, all you friends out in Myelomaville.  I will be thinking about each and every one of you as I circle the track, arm-in-arm with my family.


1 comment:

feresaknit said...

Well that kind of leaves my dream on Tuesday of looking for a public toilet and waking up needing a wee a little on the bland side! Have fun circling the track.