This morning when asked how my family was doing, the answer was "not too good." We had gotten news last week that my dad's t-cells were flaking out - especially his brothers'. What had been a great prognosis to begin with, and donor cells at 68% had suddenly turned bad, the cells plummeted down to 38%, his lungs had a huge mass so far down in there that they couldn't reach it through his air-ways. We were going to have to do another mini transplant that would increase his chance of getting acute Graft Vs. Host Disease up to **90%** and they weren't sure that the new dose of cells would fare any better then the old ones. This weekend my mom and I were gearing up for the worst, she was looking up papers and results of the studies they wanted to put my dad on, and fretting horribly. This morning he went in to get a fine needle aspirate at the UW, to see exactly what the big mass in his lungs is.
12 noon - scratch all that. Throw it all aside.
Earlier in the day we'd already gotten the news that (as per the CT scan for the FNA this morning) the mass had reduced down to 25% of it's size from last week. They canceled the procedure. Send him and my mom away. They came back to my house, my mom went in to work, and that's where she got the phone call that his donor cell percentage had gone up to 55%. Therefore the donor lymphosite infusion that they were going to do is unnecessary. Therefore his prognosis just shot through the roof.
And that's my story of the day. Down, then up! I came home after work and my dad and I spent hours playing Sports 2 on Kinect - he golfed (photos below), skied, played darts. Every time he'd get a good score, or hit a good golf swing, the game told him to "celebrate". He was dancing like a happy fool. And so was I.
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