It seems so easy. BMT means cure! But let’s talk about it like this:
You are on an island. This is not a completely peaceful island, but it does have it’s perks. Warm sunny days, kitty’s that lay on your lap, 3 kids that run around joyfully, a husband who loves you dearly. But there’s this downfall, the island could explode. The island rumbles and you are told that you never know when the island could be gone, but you could live on this island forever with few problems (just that rumbling). It’s hard to say. You just don’t know and no matter what you do, there is no controlling the island’s actions. There is a plane that can take you from the island. It’s a small rickety thing, much better than they used to have you know. But there is a 30-70% chance that this plane could crash. You may not survive the crash and you may survive but live the rest of your life in pain. You are around for your children, warm sunny days, and your husband, but you won’t be allowed to enjoy the sunny days (because the medicines they give you won’t allow it), the kitties had to go, you are discouraged to travel any great distance because of the threat of returning to the island or worse. Or you could survive unscathed. Who knows?
Which do you choose?
It seems so clear, huh? Let’s get a little bit more raw shall we?
There are two guns on the table in front of you. One gun is loaded with an unknown amount of bullets. It could have none. It may be full. The other gun has 2-4 bullets in it, not sure (we’re talking a 6 chamber gun). Once again, choose. You may be maimed, you may die. Your family is there to watch. How do you choose?
Chance becomes a funny thing when you live with a 1 in 1.2 million cases disease. I have beat the odds already. And they weren’t in my favor. Fortunately statistics gives you and independent chance at each chance. But then there are lies, damned lies and statistics. When hubby asked Boston, “how many BMT’s are successful?” Her answer was, “if they graft well, they do well.” Ahhhh, isn’t that the crux of the matter?
My island is calmer now. I have improving fever, lessening pain, improving energy. But the doctors say there may be an explosion that we can’t get you back from. We can manage the plane (so they say).
This week starts the last try at chemo. I’m not really sure at this point whether it is a try or a bridge to BMT or possibly a little bit of both. As I listen to those 3 children play, I know I want the best odds to seeing them grow up; however, I have very little CONTROL over the whole thing. I can make choices, but nature and fate and God are what will take care of the rest. Control is a red herring in life. One, in my situation, realizes it is just an illusion, even to those of you posting about your awesome weight loss, incredible work out or even your incredibly smart kids. Yes, you made the “right” choices, but by no means are you in complete control of the outcome. Some have wondered why I have became so spiritual in my journey. I think it is because I had to surrender the control and the worry. And believe for the best. And hope for the best. And pray until something happens. And realize it may not be what I thought I was praying for. But that it will be ok. I still believe in miracles. Sitting in a room full of cancer survivors IS a miracle. It can be delivered by doctors and medicine, but nonetheless, those things in and of themselves are miracles.
I love talking with the children about God. Their little minds are full of pure, inquisitive questions of the world and God. I hope that I am answering them with the love that God shows me. I hope that I am around for a long time to answer questions. I hope that they understand that even though it may not be what they wanted, God is listening and answering. I believe that I will make the right choices with the help of God. I pray that something miraculous will happen in my life. 
Glittered Path 