What do you see in the reflection?

This is a reflection from the mid-19th century windows in Ali & Tony's Scottish bothies.... a sweet little face. "Isn't he lovely?" Tony wrote. He is. 

Intending to extricate the "real" from the "imagined" is on my plate today. I met with a gentleman I have asked to be my new oncologist, a doctor from Russia coaxed from his last work (including the academic) in Michigan to Alta Bates in Berkeley. I recorded and took notes in a 90-minute session that covered all manner of options for my next steps that find my head swimming right now. I am being asked to return for consolidation chemotherapy in about a week's time. The bone marrow biopsy of 11/24 showed a blessed repeat of "zero blasts," and yet this clear hurrah is tinged in the expectation that my remission is a ticking clock with eventual relapse awaiting non-action. 

Another reason I chose "Dr. K." is because he performs bone marrow transplants, a rigorous series of procedures my soon-former oncologist does not oversee. As far as I can understand today, consolidation alone with my collection of non-ideal variables which include the MDS and some cytogenetic abnormalities results in a pretty low prognosis for making it to the 5-year mark. Some consolidation (another 3+ weeks hospitalized) with focused plans for a bone marrow transplant give me my greatest chance to live.... well, to live. 

I am in remission today. "If we stop now, the disease returns with a vengeance," the doctor said. 

Death by graft-versus-host disease is not a minor risk in bone marrow transplants, particularly for me as we'd be seeking a non-related donor from the national bone marrow donor program. The percentages began to blur at that point for me. At no point were they particularly high.

I have 48 hours until I promised I'd contact Dr. K. and commit to a date for the consolidation sometime next week. "Can't I enjoy Christmas with my Church?" I asked. I was probably begging. He was somber, sincere and not patronizing when he shook his head. "I really don't want to. The risk of relapse prior to consolidation is not something we want. Now is the time." What I did not share in his office because it did not hit me like a soul hurricane until I walked out of it is that I am not 100% committed to this plan of action. This is a risky thing to write in a blog, to share with close friends. 

I cried all the way home, not a good way to drive through downtown Berkeley. "I've had ENOUGH!" I sobbed. Will this stick or is it a momentary emotional overwhelm, surely easing when it is time to Be Good and Sensible and step up to what is next? Today I'm giving it permission to wail and grab me by the guts. What attitudinal shifts will transpire between tonight and Wednesday?

For those who have wondered, incidentally, I was told that the course of action for my Induction phase was 100% standard. Any oncologist worth his or her salt would've done the same thing. There was no personal cocktail just for Diane. Imagine that! 

This disease sucks. How I embrace a life worth living.... I will share as it unfolds to me. And I will share honestly.