DAILY NANCY UPDATE #119

Greetings. 

This is the one hundred and nineteenth in a series of DAILY NANCY UPDATES I have posted-- now celebrating the fact that even though her post bone marrow transplant and brain seizure recovery continues... the amazing Nancy Neufeld Callaway is in remission and we have kicked her leukemia on its ass. 

If you'd like to be automatically notified of updates to this blog-- just enter your email address in the window on the right beneath Nancy's picture and follow the prompts!

MONDAY REPORT

Her immune system numbers are still on the rise. Her meds are being gradually lowered. 

Every day, Nancy gets a little bit better. Every day, she seems a little more clear. 

The puzzle of sorting out her memories isn't a quick and easy one to solve. 

But the Sunshiny Superwarrior Goddess is surrounded by love and support from a million different sources. 

And one by one, the pieces are slowly coming together.

WE LOVE NANCY, and... 

ALL IS WELL!

Meal Train For The Callaways

DAILY NANCY UPDATE #118

Greetings. 

This is the one hundred and eighteenth in a series of DAILY NANCY UPDATES I will be posting until the amazing Nancy Neufeld Callaway is in full remission and we have kicked her leukemia on its ass. 

If you'd like to be automatically notified of updates to this blog-- just enter your email address in the window on the right beneath Nancy's picture and follow the prompts!

FRIDAY REPORT

Things were going really well. 

On Thursday, Nancy had her first return outpatient clinic visit at City of Hope. She got the dressing completely changed on the Hickman Line port in her chest which she's had since February and helps facilitate swift blood draws and medicine infusions. Then she had an amazing consultation with Dr. Forman, who was as elated as I was about how mentally sharp she was-- firing on pretty much all cylinders, cracking jokes, and even candidly discussing her occasional confusion and concern about not being able to remember what happened to her. He assured us both again that was completely normal-- and her short term memory issues would subside. When we went to bed that night, she was very tired-- and a little more confused-- but as the doctor had told us earlier, that's typical. After all, we all get a little confused and cranky when we're tired.

Then came this morning. 

I got up at 5:30AM to prepare her 6AM meds-- and was pleased to see her sleeping peacefully. It seemed like a nice start to what I knew would be a busy day-- not only taking care of her-- but also attending two very important meetings I had scheduled in the morning and the afternoon.

A beat later, Shirley came out to the kitchen to tell me that Nancy had slept very well-- only getting up once in the night. No more than a couple of minutes went by, as I finished prepping her meds. But when I entered to room to wake her-- I was surprised to find the bed empty. And when I went into the bathroom, I got the biggest surprise of all.

Nancy was standing in front of the mirror-- and had just completely removed her entire Hickman line-- tearing off all the sterile bandaging, peeling away the stat lock and safety padding, even finding a pair of scissors in the bathroom to cut the tubing right up to where it entered her chest.

I couldn't contain my own shock. "Oh no, what did you do?" I asked-- prompting her to look back at me matter-of-factly with an unapologetic reply. "It was bothering me," she said.

Of course, I was terrified. The line went directly into an artery behind her heart. If she had injured herself internally, it could have been deadly. And the risk of infection was also dangerous.

I rushed to get Shirley, who took one look-- then calmly (and thankfully) told me not panic. So as she quickly improvised a sterile bandage to cover the wound, I raced to get dressed and call City of Hope's emergency treatment center.

I got Nancy into my truck and drove like a bat out of hell to get her there-- calling her doctor and the triage nurses along the way. When we arrived, the swiftly assessed the situation and agreed with Doctor Forman that a chest x-ray needed to be immediately done to make sure there were no internal injuries-- then the remainder of the line had to be permanently removed. 

Our dear friend Ceci was scheduled to spend the day with Nancy at our house. But when I reached out to tell her what happened, she sweetly agreed to drive all the way back out to City of Hope to be there with us in case I needed to try and make my meetings.

Please understand-- my absolute priority was being there for Nancy-- who was already thinking pretty clearly at that point and feeling pretty bad about having done something she didn't remember doing.

But in addition to sucking-- cancer is also ridiculously expensive-- even with really great insurance (thanks, WGA Pension and Health)! So I also need to keep my professional life rolling.

Unfortunately, I had to postpone my first meeting. 

But fortunately, once the chest x-ray showed no internal injuries-- the doctor was able to give Nancy a local anesthetic and easily remove the remainder of her Hickman Line in a brief procedure. 

Ceci was kind enough to stay with her and get her home afterward. And I raced home to change, gather my notes and my wits, then head for my second meeting.

Needless to say, it was a very long day-- like a microcosm of the last two months, really-- filled with fear and worry, but also relief and joy-- especially when our friends Bob and Karen came over to hang with us.

From now on, Nancy will have to endure blood draws from her arm, the old fashioned way.

And until her confusion totally dissipates, we'll all need to keep a closer eye on the Sunshiny Superwarrior Goddess. I can tell she's uncomfortable being shadowed. And I know she wants to be in control of her own body and space. What's more, I really hate feeling like some kind of uptight, rule-making, overlord.

But it's my job to protect her-- even if right now, it's occasionally from herself.

WE LOVE NANCY, and... 

ALL IS WELL!

Meal Train For The Callaways

DAILY NANCY UPDATE #117

Greetings. 

This is the one hundred and seventeenth in a series of DAILY NANCY UPDATES I will be posting until the amazing Nancy Neufeld Callaway is in full remission and we have kicked her leukemia on its ass. 

If you'd like to be automatically notified of updates to this blog-- just enter your email address in the window on the right beneath Nancy's picture and follow the prompts!

WEDNESDAY REPORT

She's home. Got her back yesterday and have been trying to help her through life after 60 days in the hospital ever since. 

On the one hand, it's completely amazing to have her here. It just seems better for all of us-- especially the Sunshiny Superwarrior Goddess. She's in her own safe space. There's no more constant parade of strangers clad in yellow gowns, masks, and gloves. She's only surrounded by people who know and love her the most. And then, of course, there's Zingo the Wonder Dog, who won't let her out of his sight. 

On the other hand, it's incredibly challenging. She's still trying to put all kinds of pieces back together-- with some major short term memory issues frustrating all of us. 

Obviously, it's not her fault. And I know she doesn't want to be confused about anything. 

Plus, every single one of her doctors at City of Hope-- from oncologists and hematologists, to neurologists and psychiatrists, have all told us the same thing: based on her brain scans and their clinical experience with this kind of post-seizure recovery...

SHE WILL COME TOTALLY BACK. 

So that's the reality we're holding onto tooth and nail. But in the meantime, we continue to appreciate your overwhelmingly kind thoughts, good vibes, and healing prayers for a swift and sure return to full razor sharp form.

WE LOVE NANCY, and... 

ALL IS WELL!

Meal Train For The Callaways

DAILY NANCY UPDATE #116

Greetings. 

This is the one hundred and sixteenth in a series of DAILY NANCY UPDATES I will be posting until the amazing Nancy Neufeld Callaway is in full remission and we have kicked her leukemia on its ass. 

If you'd like to be automatically notified of updates to this blog-- just enter your email address in the window on the right beneath Nancy's picture and follow the prompts!

MONDAY NIGHT REPORT

Tonight I was shopping for some last minute stuff to get the house ready for Nancy's return home tomorrow (Tuesday)-- when suddenly I felt that telltale buzz in my pocket.

I grabbed my phone and saw I had missed not one, but two calls-- one from Shirley (our former nanny turned nurse who has lovingly spent every single night at the hospital with Nancy since her seizure), and the other from my son Crockett. Then Crockett sent me a backup text:

"Mom called, call her when u get a minute"

My heart sank. I left my groceries in the market and rushed outside to get a better signal and call Shirley. 

What was wrong now? After spending all day at City of Hope with Nancy, excitedly telling her about going home tomorrow and patiently, repeatedly walking her through every aspect of the plan-- had she already forgotten all of it? Was she upset and scared again-- still with no memories of what had happened to her-- trapped in a nightmarish fugue state after 60 confusing days in the hospital?

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. 

And then she finally answered. Only it wasn't Shirley. It was the Sunshiny Superwarrior Goddess, herself.

"Hey," I said in my most positive voice, trying not to let my own fear show. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," she said, cheerfully. "I was just calling to say goodnight and tell you I love you."

I think I managed to hold myself together just long enough to tell her the same-- and that I'd see her again in the morning.

Then I hung up and burst into tears.

I cried for the normal, average, sweetness of it all.

I cried for all the unimaginable hell she's been through over the past seven months.

I cried for all the sleepless nights and distracted days.

I cried for our kids who miss their Mom and their Dad-- and just want it over with already.

I cried for the time I was terrified we'd lost her.

I cried for the blanket of love we've been wrapped in by family and friends.

I cried for every meal we've been fed and every girlfriend who's held her hand.

I cried for her father, who needs his little girl back.

I cried for the nurses and doctors who've worked so hard to get her well.

I cried for a 20-year-old Israeli stranger, who gave his own blood for her life.

I cried for the future, which is finally starting to seem bright and beautiful again.

And I cried for every moment I hadn't earned the very love she was offering.

I hope my teenagers aren't reading this. They already think I'm a crybaby as is.

But if Nancy ever reads it-- I hope she understands how one simple call from her made everything right in my world.

Goodnight from Woodland Hills. Tomorrow I bring our girl home.

WE LOVE NANCY, and... 

ALL IS WELL!

Meal Train For The Callaways

DAILY NANCY UPDATE #115

Greetings. 

This is the one hundred and fifteenth in a series of DAILY NANCY UPDATES I will be posting until the amazing Nancy Neufeld Callaway is in full remission and we have kicked her leukemia on its ass. 

If you'd like to be automatically notified of updates to this blog-- just enter your email address in the window on the right beneath Nancy's picture and follow the prompts!

MONDAY MORNING REPORT

After another rough night Sunday, the decision has now been made to send Nancy home tomorrow (Tuesday 7/25). Her doctors are in agreement that 60+ days in the hospital is starting to have a psychological impact which threatens to outweigh the benefits of her recovery. 

So today they're disconnecting her from the cursed IV's she's been tethered to since May 29th. And we've already begun to pack up her room a little, if only to keep her feeling like an active participant in the plan.

Meanwhile, if you care to send any more warm thoughts, good vibes, and healing prayers her way-- we're hoping for one more semi-peaceful night at City of Hope-- followed by tomorrow's triumphant return to the safe and cozy confines of Camp Callaway. 

And once we've got her comfortably settled back in-- I'll let you know here when it's okay for her to welcome visitors.

Thanks for all your humbling love and support.

WE LOVE NANCY, and... 

ALL IS WELL!

Meal Train For The Callaways

BEFORE YOU CALL, EMAIL, OR TEXT NANCY...

Dear Fans of the Sunshiny Superwarrior Goddess...

Whether you've been following this blog as a family member or friend-- I have an important request to make of you.

Many of you have been reaching out directly to Nancy with phone calls, emails, or texts. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate your incredible outpouring of love and support.

But for the next couple of weeks, I need to ask you to stop.

As we know from our own dependence on computers and phones-- the constant connectivity we're subjected to can be stressful at times for all of us. But Nancy's beautiful brain is still struggling with some short term memory issues and occasional fuzziness-- which can make replying to even the most loving text a challenge for her-- and quite likely, confusing for you.

So if you want to communicate with her-- please do so here for now. Or send me an email or text I can read to her.

In the interest of her continued recovery-- I have to be a little bit of a gatekeeper in her life right now. And once she's safely back home-- I don't expect it will be long before she's back to being her same old lovably razor sharp self.

Meanwhile, I truly appreciate your patience and understanding.
Because nobody wants her fully back online-- mentally and electronically-- more than me.

-Trey Callaway
tcallaway@mac.com

DAILY NANCY UPDATE #114

Greetings. 

This is the one hundred and fourteenth in a series of DAILY NANCY UPDATES I will be posting until the amazing Nancy Neufeld Callaway is in full remission and we have kicked her leukemia on its ass. 

If you'd like to be automatically notified of updates to this blog-- just enter your email address in the window on the right beneath Nancy's picture and follow the prompts!

SATURDAY REPORT

After an amazing day yesterday, Nancy had a pretty rough night. 

Maybe it was the lumbar puncture (her 16th since January, by my count). Or maybe we tired her out too much. Either way, she was up and down into the wee hours-- taxing Shirley's implacable patience in all sorts of ways-- with pre-dawn demands to get in her car and leave, and arm wrestling matches with the nurses over why the Hickman line that goes straight to an artery behind her heart, can't be simply ripped out.

She's calmed down considerably since then. And at times, even back to her sharp-as-a-tack self.

But right now, the Sunshiny Superwarrior Goddess is sitting in her room with the second of two beloved girlfriends on call today-- both of whom have been here to help her, and give me a much needed break.

So I've been trying to get some work done, sitting in the 6th floor lobby of Helford Tower at City of Hope Hospital. (John McNamara, you were right. It isn't easy).

But a few minutes ago -- on the same couch where I sat with Nancy yesterday-- another man sat down with his own sick wife.

I don't mean to eavesdrop, but I can't help it-- because he's having to speak in a much louder tone of voice than usual, just to get through to her. And whether she's in some form of cancer treatment or recovery, she's clearly struggling, and just like Nancy right now, a bit confused.  

He's showing her photos on his phone, asking her if she recognizes various people in their family. Asking her if she remembers why she's here or what she's being treated for.

She doesn't. 

And suddenly, I find myself wanting to get up and go give this poor man the same hug I've been needing over the past few weeks. A hug that somehow says, "Don't worry, pal. She'll be back soon. She just can't remember all these things you need her to remember because she's way too busy using that brain power to fight for her life."

But I know there's no such hug. Not that I haven't appreciated the many folks who've tried.

I know exactly what he wants; the simple comfort of knowing the person we love is still there. 

I'm sure my girl will be back-- not only because the doctors say so-- but also because I know all too well the force of her will. I'm praying the same for the disheartened stranger and his brave love beside me.

I just hope it happens soon. 

Because I really can't wait for all these adrenaline charged days and sleepless nights to be over.

WE LOVE NANCY, and... 

ALL IS WELL!

If you'd like to send Nancy a little love (please no flowers, balloons, or food), PLEASE TAKE NOTE OF THE ADDRESS AND NEW ROOM NUMBER BELOW:

Nancy Neufeld Callaway

City of Hope Hospital

1500 E. Duarte Rd.

Helford Bldg. Rm. 6127

Duarte, CA 91010

Meal Train For The Callaways