Two of my husband’s five siblings are preliminary matches. I don’t know what that means scientifically speaking, but I know it’s good. Doesn’t mean I won’t still be snacking from the bowl of Klonopin, but it does mean I might fall asleep before 4am some night in the future.
Tomorrow we meet with an oncologist in the Santa Clara network of Kaiser so we can get Bob into a better hospital for his in-patient chemo he’ll need next week. This will be his last round of salvage chemo prior to his transplant, we believe. You can only have so many cycles. This will be his third. They’re trying to keep the lymphoma at bay as they complete the typing of his siblings.
We met with the social worker at Stanford yesterday. She helped allay some of our fears over housing requirements and options. Kaiser will be giving us a small housing allowance. Yet, I’m still worried about the long-term impact this will have on our financial situation. It’s hard to predict the future, and you rarely plan to hit your life savings at the age of 40. Thankfully, we have a little savings. Hopefully, it will be enough.
Still, I lie awake until the wee hours, wondering how it will all come together, if it will all come together, worrying about all the things a mother and wife worry about normally, and adding in all of the new things we have in the mix. I feel the hole in my stomach forming. I feel my heart being squeezed. I feel the tears washing my cheeks.
But tonight, I’ll visualize those HLA markers lining up. More and more of them falling into place.