We are on Day 10 and looking for relief from the relentless pain that Dave is experiencing with mucositis and headaches. Mucositis is a side effect of a combination of chemotherapy and radiation. In the days leading up to his transplant, he received a different type of chemo than he did with the first transplant. It looks like that chemo is the culprit that is making this transplant a beast.

It seems that Dave was the “beast” in a dream that he had a few nights ago. He has repeated this story to me several times so I thought it apropos to share it. Dave was hitting against Jack Morris in the beloved Tiger Stadium. You may think this is odd because he was playing against the Tigers. The reality is, right now opponents probably have a better chance of winning that way as the Tigers consistently struggle. Dave stepped into the batters box and waited for his pitch to hit. Morris threw a fast ball, up, and Dave hit a missile into the upper deck in right field. He said the Tiger fans were going nuts as he rounded the bases – cheering him all of the way to home.

Still early to call his transplant a home run, Dave is still in beast-mode despite the challenges and the pain. Even though he has had very little to eat in the last five days, giving him supplemental feedings is out of the question. His primary nurse said that he is “buff” and can handle this lack of nutrition for now. And, you’re probably wondering if he is still able to walk around the 10th floor. Amazingly, he tallied eight laps on Thursday, equaling a half-mile. Granted, it was slow and done in increments, but he is still driven and determined.

We did see a small but notable change in Dave’s white blood count. This is considered a precursor for healing and engraftment. It will also assist in repairing his mucositis, allowing him to swallow, to eat and to alleviate the pain. Before you know it, we will be calling this a walk-off home run. And, it won’t be a dream.

Enjoy Labor Day weekend. As you continue to pray for us and Dave’s recovery, we will be praying for your safety and that you have fun with family and friends.

If you guessed Popeye, you are absolutely correct. Yesterday, Dave resembled one of the most memorable cartoon characters of my childhood. But, not for the reasons that you think. You see, Popeye was normally a slightly-built man. Basically, he was a weakling. He was picked on all of the time. In dire moments, when Popeye needed a burst of energy to fight his bullies, he would open a can of spinach and immediately turn into this fearless muscle man. I actually admired Popeye for eating all of that spinach without plugging his nose.

Dave has had five pretty rough days since his transplant. The transplant has proven to be more difficult than the first one, leaving him weak and exhausted. The continuous headache he has had for five days resembles a migraine that is nearly impossible to control. Worse than that, the mucositis in his mouth, throat and ears is extremely painful and will not heal until his counts recover. Unfortunately, mucositis has now traveled down his esophagus. So ripping open and eating a can of spinach is out of the question. Instead, he is struggling to swallow jello, ice cream, smooth soups and protein shakes.

Because of this, I was positive that Dave would not be the leader on the board where we record laps/miles. I was so sure, that at 11 a.m. I declared Jody, his biggest competition at this point, the winner. After struggling to eat lunch, he thought he should at least try and walk. Hence, Dave turned into Popeye to do whatever it takes. In complete amazement, I asked him how on earth can you be so determined, even on one of your worst days. He replied, “I am what I am.” Popeye was known for saying that phrase each and every episode.

Jesus was a lot like Popeye, but he didn’t flex his muscles to accomplish challenges. He used His words and actions instead. And when God identified Himself as “I am who I am,” He was reminding us that no matter when or where, He is there. We know that He is here with us guiding Dave to healing. He is the Great Healer and His promise is good.

By the way – Olive Oyl and I do have some things in common. She was Popeye’s sweetheart and they faced endless adventures and challenges together. For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about… Google it!

I love this hat. I also have the jacket that matches this hat. I wear it on the boat when we take our evening stroll around the lake on our pontoon. My favorite hat also represents all of the things we will do when Dave has recovered, allowing us to travel more.

We plan to spend time in Lakeland to experience MLB’s spring training. Brendan and Amy just built their “forever home” in Alabama, and we are so excited to see it. Camping in a Class 3 motor coach has been a longtime goal. Although we don’t own one yet, we look forward to the day when we can go cross county with it. Taking our grandkids to Cedar Point is a must. Hawaii is on the list and so is another visit to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

But back to my boat story. A few years back, we found our evening rides so enjoyable that we left our boat in until early November. You don’t have to say it. I already know what you’re thinking. Well, the weather turned cold practically overnight. The first snowfall was reported to be arriving fast and furious with an expected six inches. You know how those first snowfalls go in Michigan. Dave and I figured it was time to let summer go and give in to winter’s ways. Looking at that day’s forecast, we quickly dressed in our warmer winter garb. Of course, the only hat for me to grab was my favorite hat. Up until that day, I was boycotting anything to do with winter.

Dave jumped in his truck and headed to the boat ramp with the boat trailer rambling behind. My job was to get the boat quickly and quietly to the boat ramp to meet him. You see, we really didn’t want people to hear the boat on the water because all it would do was raise eyebrows and make us look a little crazy. Ever drive your convertible in a white-out snow storm? It’s about the same on a boat.

As I arrived at the boat ramp, I could see that Dave was struggling to back down the hill. Dave backing up on the icy ramp made the truck and trailer look like a toboggan going down a slippery slope. Utterly out of control. The snow was coming down like confetti and the wind was howling, making it difficult for me to take the boat in at an appropriate angle. And, pretty soon I was going to need a snow shovel to clear the deck of the boat. The neighbors across the street stepped out on their deck to watch this fiasco, making sure that we could hear them laughing. As if they have never seen anything like this before?

After several attempts and somewhat frustrated, we decided it might be easier to use the boat ramp on the other side of the lake. The somewhat level gravel road would probably make it easier for our wintery exit. So, Dave headed up the ramp sliding and fishtailing on a race to beat the weather. I was collecting inches of snow on my hat and jacket, and no longer quietly, but eagerly, I raced to the other boat ramp. I was really hoping no one was around to shake their heads in disbelief.

In a tie, we both reached the boat ramp on the west side of Hiland Lake. I could see that Dave was just backing up the trailer. This appeared to be a little bit easier, and after several attempts, the boat was finally resting on the trailer. We secured the boat, and off we went, crunching over 4 inches of snow. How did it come down so fast and so hard without warning? Well, that’s not exactly accurate, because we were warned that the weather was going to get nasty very quickly. The good news is there are not many year-round residents living on our lake to see what rockheads we were. I mean who pulls a boat out in November?

The point of all this you ask? Have you ever found that some things sneak up on you and catch you by surprise? Like summer taxes? Or a summer thunderstorm? Or maybe you have so many things you want to do, and before you know it, the time is gone? The value in our “boat lesson” seemed to slip by us until now. When faced with the reality of a life-threatening disease, we don’t have time to waste.

Day 1 of the road to recovery mirrored Dave’s first bone marrow transplant that he had last October. It was rough and exhausting. But we are counting up. Counting up to the days when Dave is released from the hospital and able to continue recovering at home. When given the sign that Dave is healthy enough to travel, I’m going to grab my favorite hat and run for the door.

There’s no better time than now to do the things that you wish to do.

More powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. It’s a bird – it’s a plane – no it’s Superman.

Dave has been tearing it up in preparation for August 21. I know that many of you have witnessed the way in which he leads a baseball practice and the energy that he exudes. Teams and coaches across the state of Michigan have feared him on the field as a coach because of his winning ways. There are hundreds of kids who have experienced his whimsy and craziness when he is giving a baseball lesson. An army of people can attest to his intensity during basketball games as a referee. And still, thousands of students and teachers have been fortunate to have walked side-by-side with him and appreciated his devotion to education. Any similarities to Superman?

Aside from the fact that Clark Kent had locks of luxurious hair, which Dave does not, even his physique resembles that good-looking strong man with a cape. If you still don’t see the correlation, I want to show you how he is preparing to beat his current foe.

At Day -1, Dave is having what is known at Karmanos as a rest day. Actually quite humorous to call it that, because he had his roughest night yet last night. Today, I’m quite sure his cape will remain on a hook. Tomorrow, Day 0, will be Dave’s new birthday, as is customary when receiving a bone marrow transplant. They will infuse the unrelated donor’s marrow, and then it is recovery time. Dave will be similar to Clark Kent when he changes into Superman in a phone booth. He will stroll out of here and be a new super human. Yeah – kinda like Superman.

Watching the movie, Breakthrough, I found myself comparing the movie to our journey with cancer. In the movie, John, a 14-year-old athlete, had fallen through the ice and presumedly drowned. While in the ER, he miraculously regained consciousness. John was then life-flighted to a nearby hospital, where a highly-acclaimed doctor was John’s only hope for recovery. His mother and father met with the doctor after he evaluated John’s condition. The doctor told his parents that there was nothing more that he could do. It was heartbreaking. And if you have been reading the blogs all along, you can remember when that similar message was delivered to us as well. The words were devastating.

The story continues with Joyce, John’s mother, looking point-blank at the doctor and being very frank with him. “They say you are the best, so I need you to go and be the best for my John,” Joyce said.

At that point in the movie, I reflected on the coincidence of the challenges we are facing. I recalled all of those who have done the best that they could for Dave. Nearly 18 months have passed, and I can still see every face of every doctor and nurse who have helped Dave arrive at this point. Some, without even knowing it, administered treatments that saved Dave and catapulted us to this next step. 

A turning point in the movie had me crying. One of John’s classmates was singing a hymn outside his hospital window. The small-town folks were all gathered around her with candles lit and joined her in song. They were lifting John up. And miraculously, again, John was saved. Clearly, the coincidence of this was uncanny. 

Even after all of this time, you are all still praying for Dave and lifting him up. The Tag Team is as strong and determined as ever. This was reaffirmed in a Facebook message that Gloria Jukuri posted. Hundreds have responded to that post. You are right there with us, and we can feel the love.

So here we are. Dave is still considered in remission, which means the cancer is not active at this point. It is an opportune time for the bone marrow transplant, in hopes of solidifying remission and possible cure. But this week is going to be a tough one. He will endure industrial strength chemo and will receive radiation. He will then receive his second bone marrow transplant August 21. The weeks following the transplant will be crucial to determine if his body accepts the marrow and works to conquer ALL. 

He will not give up, and I know you are not giving up either. Now, more than ever, we need you to continue to pray for complete healing. Ask for goodness, mercy and understanding. Pray that his doctors and nurses are the best that they can be for Dave.

I know that you have never stopped praying. I have been praying all along, too, but I plan to better my best. I hope that you join me.

First, I’d like to apologize for taking so long between posts. We have been so busy playing and checking items off of the “to do” list. Thus, I haven’t taken the time to write.

In so many things that we do, there is playing to win and playing not to lose. A big difference exists between the two. Even if one is not a sports fan, it doubles in application to everyday life. Here’s an example from this weekend. Easton and Emilee, two of our grandchildren, are beginning to enjoy tubing. I have pulled them behind the boat carefully this summer, being sure not to even come close to throwing them off. I played not to lose. Because they have been tentative every time they’ve gone earlier this summer, I have learned this may not be their favorite pastime at the lake.

Susan came home this past weekend to help during the second bone marrow transplant. Of course, Emilee and Easton both wanted to go tubing with her. At the first turn, Susan leaned into the far side and steered the tube over the wake. They were zipping along the water and picking up speed, hitting waves and experiencing the “ride.” It was the best time they have had with me pulling them. Playing to win — getting the most out of their ride.

Later that day, I pulled them again, and Easton and Emilee worked the tube together without any assistance. Easton fell off, laughing and giggling the whole time. No longer afraid to venture to the next level of tubing, he was playing to win for the second time that day and confident that he could.

It has taken a few weeks of Dave eating well, gaining strength and doing things he enjoys in order to prepare for the next bone marrow transplant. But, we are back in “playing to win” mode and ready for this next challenge. We have done it before and are confident that we can do it again. It also helps that playing not to lose isn’t in our fabric — not even close to who we are and how we do things.

A donor has been located, and Dave and I believe that he is a 25-year-old male from Germany. Dave will be admitted into Karmanos next week to start the preparation process and the transplant will take place August 21. He will be in the hospital for at least three weeks. Although we have done this less than a year ago and know what to expect, it will be more difficult this time. Dave has less reserve and isn’t as strong as he was last October.

Thank you for patiently waiting for this update, and thank you for your continued prayers. We are playing to win and still praying for a complete cure.

A Kasey Musgraves song, “Rainbow,” was playing this morning and I thought it was ironic after the big storm I drove through last night. Yesterday, plodding home after pampering myself with a haircut and pedicure, I thought the skies looked ominous and dangerous. The wind started to push me on the barely visible road, and the pelting rain had my wipers going in overdrive. Exiting US-23 at Territorial Road, I pulled into the gas station because an eerie feeling about the weather had me taking precautions. Knowing my drive home was filled with tree-lined roads — and trees fall in heavy wind and rain — I called Dave to say I was going to sit tight and wait it out. I wasn’t the only one either. Within minutes, the gas station parking lot was at capacity with others taking the same precautionary measures.

Ten minutes later, I felt I had my opening to make the rest of the trip home. Within two minutes, I came upon the first fallen tree. I veered around the large live tree, mirroring the few cars in front of me. After swerving around four more fallen trees, the fifth and final tree stopped all of us. It clearly blocked the entire road, and there was no way around this huge tree. One by one, we took turns backing our way out of this precarious situation.

The remaining 20 minute drive home took 40 minutes of back roads, and with white knuckles and a moment of a thankful prayer, I pulled into the garage safely. The torrential downpour and driving winds continued beyond the closed door. There I sat thinking that this situation was identical to what we are experiencing right now. Roadblock after roadblock, we have been forced to reroute and change directions. Inevitably, our goal will always be to make it home healthy and safely without any more stormy weather.

A second bone marrow transplant is seemingly ominous and somewhat dangerous, but precautions will be taken. Preliminary results show that Dave’s heart and lungs are still in excellent condition despite the storms he has endured in the past 16 months. His counts are holding steady, slowly improving with each visit to Karmanos. Although Dr. Uberti will make the final determination next week, we remain positive that this decision to move forward is our route to better days ahead.

As the skies are finally clearing, we continue to imagine the exact moment when you first see a rainbow. Simply thinking about it makes me smile. And, even though we’ve weathered some rough days and multiple roadblocks, there’s always been a rainbow hanging over our heads.

A few things exist on my list that are mandatory for summer success. Because, let’s face it, many of us live in Michigan for the summers, falls and near-perfect weather that we enjoy. Of course, that’s easy for me to say on the sweltering 90 plus days. I just jump in the lake.

So, here are some of the rules for the summer of 2019.

We have three to four weeks to make new memories before Dave is admitted into Karmanos for his second bone marrow transplant. Next week, tests will be performed on his heart and lungs to ensure that they can withstand another difficult procedure. In the meantime, he needs to relax, swim and play while I work my magic on helping him eat plenty to gain weight and increase his strength and stamina. Although not much of a napper, the recovery from the Besponsa (Inotuzumab) has him requiring naps most afternoons. He has finally welcomed that part of recuperation.

Both Dave and I look forward to our quiet cup of coffee on the deck each morning. Following the mandatory rule of flip flops is a go, but soaking up the sun is a no. His skin cannot tolerate the scorching sun, nor can he tolerate the humidity very well. So, he does “wet a line” occasionally hoping to catch a fish or two, but time outside is a bit limited right now. We will enjoy campfires in the next few evenings when the days and nights are a little cooler. But every moment is relished and enjoyed. We are so thankful that another opportunity for a cure is available.

If I could add one last thing to the lake rules list, it would be to pray often. I still pray that the “miracle” remission is followed by complete healing. The second bone marrow transplant will be more difficult, but Dave is motivated and ready to take this on again. So as the lake rules go, we have some living to do before August. Our summer will be seemingly short, but I’m sure it will be a success.

How do you measure when a miracle has taken place? Dave and I have been fortunate to have experienced so many blessings in this journey from so many people, but how will we know when it is THEE one?

On June 4, we were brought to our knees in pure agony and despair as the doctors delivered the news that there was nothing more that they could do to rid ourselves from this ruthless leukemia. I can’t tell you how it feels to have your heart and dreams shattered with those simple words. With compassion and deep sadness in their eyes, they said that it was time to go home to Michigan and be with our family. The CAR T-Cells did not work and the biopsy results recorded disease at 72 percent in the marrow. They could only prepare us for the journey home as quickly and as pain-free as possible.

But how will I really know that this is a miracle? There was no hope in sight. On June 4, still on our knees from the news, we asked Jesus to continue to stay with us and give us strength. I never stopped asking for complete healing and never once questioned why this was happening. Dave’s counts were beyond comprehension, as intense pain is normally coupled with elevated inflammatory markers of this proportion. But there was no pain. We are sure that He was taking care of that for Dave. There is no other way to explain it. That’s when we knew that we were in the middle of a miracle.

How do you measure a miracle? The bone marrow biopsy was performed for one reason, and that was to determine what the next step would be for Dave. Dr. Uberti, from Karmanos, told us that if Dave was in remission, we need to consider a second bone marrow transplant. If leukemia was still present, there was nothing more that could be done. And although we talked about it as little as possible, the wait from Monday’s biopsy until Wednesday afternoon was a quiet, unexplainable, emotional pain. Late Wednesday afternoon, Dr. Uberti called to inform us that Dave is in remission. There were no leukemic cells present in the biopsy and his body is generating good cells.

mir·a·cle – /ˈmirək(ə)l/

Miracles consistently serve to point people to the one true God, ultimately revealed in Jesus Christ. The primary purposes is not to meet human need, although that is an important spinoff blessing.

This is how you measure if a miracle has taken place. When there is no hope, when you have done everything physically and medically possible and when you have faithfully prayed and trusted in God. He answered all of our prayers. Yours. Mine. Dave’s.

How long does a miracle last? I don’t know if miracles work like that. I am far from an expert on miracles. But it is good for now. And as our journey continues, our faith in the Great Healer has only intensified. He is good. He’s still with us, carrying us when we cannot walk, and walking with us when we long to run. That is the measure of a miracle.

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.