Sticky Leukemia Cells

Two years ago

In my blog I report that David’s WBC count skyrockets during the week of his Chicago road trip, from 24 to 90. (Normal range is 4 to 11). I don’t mention the reason: David forgot to bring his hydroxyurea, the drug that kills blood cells and keeps the leukemia in check.

Tuesday, December 2nd, the WBC count has risen to 95. Dr. Gaby Hobbes, covering for Dr. Fathi, initiates a conversation she hopes is premature. At this high volume the “sticky” leukemic cells can clog capillaries in the organs, including the lungs and brain, causing serious complications and even death.

I ask to see a social worker about hospice. I am shocked to learn that hospice is 98% family-given care; evidently my picture of hospice being hospital-level care at home is a common misconception. I still want David to die at home; I hope I’ll be strong enough.

Thursday, December 4th, my 91-year-old father, Dr. George G. Hazen, dies of a heart attack. That week he’d swum his usual laps at the YMCA; his death is unexpected. I post a tribute on my blog.

Early December 2016

First snowfall: Monday, December 5

David's grave after first snow

The Compassionate Friends, a support group for bereaved parents, grandparents, and siblings, meets in Concord on the first Monday of each month. Jim and I attend a Boston Philharmonic Youth Orchestra at Symphony Hall on November 7th; for the month following I look forward to Monday, December 5th. A friend of mine describes going to a bereaved parent support group several years ago and deciding that she didn’t want to make the loss of her child her identity. For me, I find great comfort in being with parents who know what it’s like to lose a child.For now, it is a place to say David’s name aloud, to talk about my sorrow and face the grief. It’s a club no one wants to be a member of. It’s a club that brings me relief.

This Sunday, December 11, The Compassionate Friends is holding their annual worldwide candle-lighting. Please join me by lighting a candle at 7 p.m., local time, to honor all the sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, and grandchildren who left too soon. Imagine the candlelight circling the globe that night.