Decitabine Failure

Two Years Ago

On March 19, 2015, exactly one year after David called me from Korea to say he had leukemia, decitabine, the gentle chemo drug that was keeping the white blood cell counts down, stopped working, dramatically. His counts doubled in three days. So, he went back on hydroxyurea, that old workhorse of a drug, which doesn’t cure leukemia but temporarily keeps the bloodstream cell count down and symptoms at bay.

March 19, 2017

I’ve been putting off writing this blog post. When I finally got down to work today, I realized that not only was Sunday, March 19, the third anniversary of David’s phone call, it was the second anniversary of the keen disappointment of decitabine failing. I've had this experience before: I struggle to sit down and write a blog post. Once I finally get started, I find that some significant and painful setback occurred exactly two years before. It surprises me every time, though my sub-conscious seems acutely aware of it, or why would I avoid writing?

On Sunday, my friend Carri drove me to our church meeting in Cambridge. “How are you doing, Mary?” I have a hard time identifying how I'm doing. I function well; I'm busy and happy. But always there, just below the surface, is the knowledge that David is dead. Yes, I believe he continues as a distinct personality in the spirit world. Yes, I believe I'll see him again, healthy and perfect in body and mind. But mortality feels very long. He still isn't living a normal young adult life. He still isn't going to come home for a visit or make the summer retreat, when our family will spend a week together in August. It's sad; it just is.