Greetings.
This is the sixty-first 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!
BREAKING NEWS
DO NOT READ THIS.
Seriously... if you're squeamish at all... or God forbid, have just stumbled onto this site while trying to deal with your own leukemia experiences... just PLEASE DO YOURSELF A HUGE FAVOR and skip to the next blog entry.
I'm about to get graphic.
Why? Because it's been a really long day for Nancy and me both-- so I need to get these images out of my mind by putting them here or I'll never be able to sleep.
Okay, ready?
LAST CHANCE TO MOVE ALONG...
Fine. Here goes.
See this? This is a dipstick. If you've ever checked the oil on your car, you'll immediately recognize it. It's a long steel strip which fits into a curved pipe that leads to your oil pan. And every once in awhile, you pull it out to eyeball the oil levels.
So why am I bringing up basic auto maintenance?
Because every time I have to watch Nancy suffer through a spinal tap, it's all I can think about. Only let's not use the term "spinal tap" any more. It sounds way too fun-- like the great rock and roll mockumentary that first turned comedy up to 11.
No... let's call this hellish procedure by its much more clinical name.
LUMBAR PUNCTURE.
Here's what happens. We go into an ice cold Radiology room at UCLA and Nancy has to lay flat on her stomach under a big X-Ray machine. And I put on a lead suit so I can sit at the end of the exam table to hold her hand.
Then a physician comes in to shoot a few images of her back, which pop up on a nearby monitor. And let me take a quick minute to expound just a little on what I mean by "physician." Because this is such a delicate and painful procedure (the second one she had is still plaguing her with lower back pain a couple of months later)-- our primary oncologist has specifically requested that only an ATTENDING DOCTOR OF RADIOLOGY be permitted to perform it on Nancy. See, there's a whole hierarchy of physicians in a teaching hospital like UCLA. From the bottom to the top it basically goes: MED SCHOOL STUDENT, REGISTERED NURSE, NURSE PRACTITIONER, DOCTOR, FELLOW, ATTENDING PHYSICIAN, PROFESSOR, DIRECTOR. And let's just say Nancy's learned the hard (and painful) way to tell the difference between their experience levels when it comes to a lumbar puncture.
Anyway, then they clean and sterilize her back-- taping off the puncture area with surgical cloths. And the initial discomfort comes from a local anesthetic the doctor administers to the base of Nancy's spine. That's usually the first hard squeeze I get on my hand.
Next, the doctor takes something called a SPINAL NEEDLE-- and using the x-ray for proper positioning, slowly inserts it through Nancy's skin and between her lumbar vertebrae. At this point, I'm trying as hard as I can to help her focus on her breathing and stay still.
Then, once the needle has passed through several layers of spinal membrane (?!?!)... the doctor has to check her dipstick. Specifically, there's a tiny "stylet" withdrawn from inside the spinal needle, which allows the physician to check for cerebrospinal fluid. In other words, if you see little droplets of clear liquid-- you're in the right place.
But if you don't-- and here comes the biggest pain of all, my friends-- you have to reinsert, withdraw, jiggle, and repeatedly reposition the needle until you finally hit the mother lode.
So while that's happening, I get to watch my wife jerk, cry, and clutch my hand in absolute misery.
After that, they withdraw several microliters of fluid. Then use a different syringe to administer what's called intrathecal chemo that protects her spine and brain from any potentially opportunistic cancerous invaders.
Running a barrage of tests on Nancy's cerebrospinal fluid will allow her team of doctors in the Oncology Center to get a much better idea of how her fight against A.L.L. is really going.
But for lack of a better way to describe it... lumbar punctures are like watching some kind of sick and twisted David Cronenberg movie... only it's not a movie. It's real. And it hurts like a sonofabitch.
What's more, Nancy's had to endure this torture FIVE TIMES ALREADY.
Sometimes it's a breeze... over in seconds. But other times, like today... it's interminable.
And when it's finally over-- the poor woman has to lay flat on her back for the next 6 to 8 hours (including in the back seat of my truck on the way home) in the hopes of preventing the most common side effects of intense, migraine level headaches and nausea.
Thankfully, so far today/tonight, she seems to be out of the woods where that kind of after-ugliness is concerned. And better yet, we THINK she's only got one more of these things ahead of her on the schedule.
But man, lemme tell you, it's HORRIBLE to witness. And far more horrible still to experience. I really hate like hell that she's having to go through all of this. And I apologize for TMI.
But sometimes it really helps to write this kind of nastiness down in a selfish effort to try and let it go.
Meanwhile, your continued thoughts and prayers for Nancy's recovery are genuinely appreciated.
HEADLINES
Please visit the link below for more information on how you can help in the search for a bone marrow transplant donor. Her doctors are closing in on a few promising prospects-- but until we nail one down-- we'll take all the help from you we can get. Remember, if you're not a match for Nancy-- sooner or later, you'll be a match for someone. And you might just save that person's life.
WE LOVE NANCY, and...
ALL IS WELL!
