Stem Cell Transplant, done and dusted. After three weeks of prep, poking, and prodding. After six days of “a lethal dose” of chemo (Mayo Clinic’s words, not mine),  May 7th was my Day 0, or second birthday.  I got a certificate and everything.  The transplant itself is fairly simple, a blood transfusion really.  You’re actually out the door the same day.  My doctor told me “eat, drink, walk around”.  Easy enough, right? The ugly part comes later….when eating, drinking, and walking become a real pain in the ass.  Once the dark days pass, boredom became my main enemy.  Just waiting for my body to get in gear drove me crazy, I became addicted to getting my blood results everyday.  I missed my family, I was ready to be done.  Seventeen days later, I was home, three days shy of the record.  Damn.  

Recovery is the name of the game now.  This chapter in my life is coming to a close, I will want to think about it and talk about it less every day. My finish line is fast approaching.  With all that said, I am there for anyone dealing with cancer, day or night, anytime.  

The above photos are from the transplant process, the pills were my morning cocktail, the central line that lived in my chest for 25 days or so, the 6.8 million stem cells, and my fancy pink sponge that was my toothbrush.  

Thank you the staff at Station 94, The Gift of Life transplant house, and my family and friends.  They are the best in the world.  

Become a marrow donor! bethematch.org

Support survivors! LiveSTRONG

Treatments 7-8.  It’s all over.  Cancer is over, and chemo is over.  Yea, I still have that stem cell transplant thing in a month, but some major hurdles have been reached.  I learned I was in remission right before chemo 7, but did round 7 and 8 just for giggles.  Let’s kill any and all stragglers, right?  I think the strange thing was just my emotional state after learning I was in remission.  I thought I’d be dancing in the halls, but instead I cried like a baby.  While the dancing did come, the weight lifted from my shoulders was immense.  So much hard work by so many people…..a result finally reached.  When I left the cancer floor for the last time I couldn’t look a nurse in the face without losing my shit.  I owe them so much, yet they are just doing their jobs.  If you know a nurse, hug them, kiss them, tell them they rock.  Buy them dinner, or perhaps a drink of their choice.  They are all awesome.  Thanks again for reading, there may be a break as the transplant approaches….I have the greatest family and friends in the world.

Links for LiveStrong, My LiveStrong Donation page, still have “kill cancer” socks for sale, and the Leukemia Lymphoma Society. 

Treatments 5+6,  I am starting to see the end of Chemo road.   Only two treatments left, and that annoying Stem cell transplant thing, and I’ll be finished.  Since last I typed, a PET scan showed big time progress and I have been trying to photograph a few things outside of my home away from home.  Even though cancer and it’s subsequent hassles take a huge portion if my time and focus, life moves along.  Kindergarten, my son’s basketball games, and even the tiniest bit of work, it all just keeps moving.  Much of my challenge is just trying to move along with it, be normal.  Doing my taxes, albeit while getting chemo, getting on my bike, and even speaking to pre med students about cancer and chemo, all helps me feel normal.  Normal is just another drug that helps me get better, with fewer side effects.  I have the most fantastic family and friends in the world.

Leukemia Lymphoma Society

LIVESTRONG

My LIVESTRONG Donation page 

Treatment No. 4. Merry Christmas, or Happy Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa or what works for you.  I have reached the halfway point in chemo and I am feeling ok.  Rather than bore you with more pictures of needles and colorful bags of goodies with fancy names, I thought I’d focus of a couple of things that make me happy during treatment.  First, is Fabio.  What a great name eh?  He is one of the many nursing assistants that grace my presence over the course of each stay.  Always wearing a smile while he pursues his own vendetta (his words) against cancer (he doesn’t tell me much), and yet he knows everything about me (he gets to read the file).  He is a one man happy machine. Second, is the shower, simple I know.  Weird perhaps as well. The hot water never runs out and here everything gets washed away; the cold, the hospital, and for a few minutes I’m new again.  The last photograph is my collection of wristbands.  These date back from my initial ER visit to now, just half-way there.

Just three photographs this time, I wanted to keep it simple and since it’s Christmas not be a photo downer.  Plus, sometimes less is more, right?  I have the most fantastic family and friends in the world. Thanks.

Leukemia Lymphoma Society

marrow.org

LIVESTRONG

Treatment No.3  Well, another one done.  3/8 th’s of the way there.  Regimen 2a includes what I call “the big ugly”. A big 24 hr infusion of Adriamycin.  It’s red, so it looks mean, it takes forever, and can potentially damage my heart.  But I only now have two of you left big ugly, and I’m gonna beat you.  I am going to try and keep this post short and let the photos do some of the talking, and explore some of the monotonous details of this experience.  Such as my fancy QR code, the tape job I get to shower and the detailed flashlight check for mouth sores, yes, mouth sores.  

I’ve said this every time, I have the most magnificent friends and family in the world.  I have never felt that more than this past week.  Also, I’m raising money for LIVESTRONG, the donation link is here  Also, I’ve got oodles of cards for sale here.

Also, to help with my fundraising I made and are selling some extra cool cycling socks, or if you don’t ride, you can just call them extra cool socks that you need to have. Check them out at the Etsy store as well.

Thanks again for reading.  Sean

brain-food:

A series of minimalism Star Wars posters designed by Keith Bogan, a 21 year old designer from Carlow, Ireland.

Personal favorite.  Fly casually.

BLOOD SWEAT CHEMO: This is not a cage match showdown →

bloodsweatchemo:

Yesterday was a big day. I got out of the house and met a friend for coffee. (Keep reading. It gets better.) After a much-needed car wash and three failed attempts to park in full underground ramps, I made my way down a frozen Nicollet Mall. Not a soul on the streets, but the lunch hour skyways…

Treatment No. 2: Well, there goes the hair.  It started slowly but ended quickly.  At least I was able to milk a mohawk out of it to go along with my halloween costume.  Small acts of defiance go a long way.  Round two, or rather 1b in chemo speak, is complete. Methodrexate was the star of this show along with his co-star Cytarabine.  These guys fit into the R-Hyper CVAD regimen I am currently on.  Big acronym means lots of drugs, chemo drugs, drugs to protect my organs from the chemo drugs, anti-nausea meds, sleep meds, and lastly, the drugs to get the chemo out of my system.   I find it funny that my nurses have to glove up and double gown just to handle the stuff,  right before they send it through my veins.  For someone who rarely took anything other than Advil, I am certainly making up for it here.

A lot of people ask what they can do to help me and my family while this is going on.  If you live in Minneapolis, an Orange Julius is always a welcome sight.  But if not, try this. 

There is a bone marrow transplant in my future.  Get yourself in the donor loop.  You probably won’t match me (and that’s not really the point), but you may help someone else (that’s the point).  The next time you’re at the doctor, say “Hey, give me the swab, and put me in the loop”. Here is the link.  www.marrow.org  

I aimed to make the photos a bit less serious this time around, partly because I felt better and my stay was shorter.  Plus, I wanted to photograph some of my caregivers and they always wear a smile.   Thanks, and I have the most magnificent friends and family in the world. 

Lymphoma Society

www.livestrong.org

Be The Match 

American Cancer Society

Diagnosis and Treatment, No. 1.

On October 1st, I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  On October 11th, I started chemotherapy.  My world went from busy to surreal, from surreal to very real. It’s a fairly rare form of the disease and the numbers are average, but math was never my strong subject.  So piss on the numbers.  I’ve decided to try and do what I do best, or at least fairly well.  Photograph the treatment process.  Not every post will have the look of these, they simply reflect what I felt at the time, uncertainly, boredom, and a certain amount of fear.  This is not a private thing or else why would I be posting it here? Cancer casts a wide net, and I have found this to be extremely helpful.  I have the most magnificent family and friends a man can ask for.  Thanks.  

LIVEStrong www.livestrong.org

www.lls.org

International Blood and Marrow Transplant Research www.cibmtr.org

BeTheMatch.org

superamit:

Two weeks ago I got a call from my doctor, who I’d gone to see the day before because I’d been feeling worn out and was losing weight, and wasn’t sure why.

He was brief: “Amit, you’ve got Acute Leukemia. You need to enter treatment right away.”

I was terrified. I packed a backpack full of clothes, went to the hospital as he’d instructed, and had transfusions through the night to allow me to take a flight home at 7am the next day. I Googled acute leukemia as I lay in my hospital bed, learning that if it hadn’t been caught, I’d have died within weeks.

—

I have a couple more months of chemo to go, then the next step is a bone marrow transplant. As Jay and Tony describe below, minorities are severely underrepresented in the bone marrow pool, and I need help.

A few ways to help:

1. If you’re South Asian, get a free test by mail. You rub your cheeks with a cotton swab and mail it back. It’s easy.
2. If you’re in NYC, you can go to this event my friends are putting on.
3. If you know any South Asians (India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, Bhutan, Maldives, or Sri Lanka), please point ‘em to the links above.

*NEW* Organize a donor drive near you (the most helpful thing you could possibly do!) email 100kcheeks@gmail.com. They’ll send you kits, flyers, tell you what to say, and make the whole process easy cheesy.

jayparkinsonmd:

My friend Amit Gupta founded my favorite photography site Photojojo. A few weeks ago, he was diagnosed with leukemia. Amit is one of the nicest, most genuine, most creative people you could ever meet. Prior to founding the awesome Photojojo, he also co-founded Jelly in 2006 in NYC, a coworking community, that’s now spread to 60 cities across the world and helped spark the coworking revolution. It looks like Amit will need a bone marrow transplant quite soon. We can help him with that.

tony b:

Unlike blood transfusions, finding a genetic match for bone marrow that his body will accept is no easy task. The national bone marrow registry has 9.5 million records on file, yet the chances of someone from South Asian descent of finding a match are only 1 in 20,000.

This is where we come in. We’re going to destroy those odds.

How? By finding and registering as many people of South Asian descent as we possibly can.

Tests are easy– a simple swab of the cheek. If you’re a match, the donation involves an outpatient procedure. It’s not fun, but it’s not dangerous either. And doing it could save a life.

We are encouraging anyone of South Asian descent to take a test to see if you’re a match. 

You can get a free test by mail, or, if you’re in New York, you can join us Friday, October 14th for a special party to rally support.

We’ll have test kits on hand at the party, as well as music, booze, and maybe even a photo booth. It will, for the first time, combine a House 2.0-style party with a New Work City-style party, and if you’ve ever been to either, you know they are always something special.

Please spread the word and please do everything you can to help Amit beat leukemia. He’s a superstar.

Much thanks to Tony and pals for organizing this event, and EVERYONE who’s been tweeting and reblogging.

Please help get the word out any way you can. My life quite literally depends on it.