There’s nothing like a head-first dive into home and watching as the baserunner swipes the corner of the plate with his left hand. The barrel-chested catcher set up perfectly and the bullet from the right fielder to home was on the money. But the long throw couldn’t beat the runner to the plate. His teammates bombarded him as he headed into the dugout. His hands are up high-fiving and special handshakes greet him as he navigates his way to the dugout. That’s the way I see the game winning run.

Dave, on the other hand, sees it differently. As a player, the ultimate game-winning run is a walk off oppo jack deep into the lights. The crowd goes ballistic as the player rounds every bag. He wildly pumps his arms in the air. He is covered by players the moment he stomps on home plate as the scoreboard reflects a true donneybrook.

There’s no place like home.

We returned home last Saturday to our quiet place on the lake in Hell (Michigan). Who knew this Hell could be so peaceful. We have been to Karmanos two times this week and Dave’s counts have been doing exactly as we had hoped. The WBC and ANC are nonexistent, as expected, when Besponsa (or Inotuzumab) is administered. The LDH is closing in on normal, and there is still no pain. We will wait for the next bone marrow biopsy to determine if these drugs could be the new Keystone Cops. If the two treatments can work as well as Trammel and Whitaker did years ago, I’d say it would be hard to recall two Detroit Tigers who worked so well in tandem.

The best therapy for both of us is coming back to Michigan and being with our family and friends. One can’t imagine how difficult it was to be so far from home. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to visit with many because his counts are so low. However, knowing we are now closer to those we care about and love is a blessing.

There’s no place like home.