Monday, May 23, 2016

Diagnosis: Myelofibrosis

From my initial hospitalization and bone marrow biopsy it took about a week before my oncologist was ready to give me her diagnosis.  She needed to have certain pieces of the puzzle in place before she even suggested what she must have expected on the day she did the bone marrow biopsy and had a dry tap.

With my wife by my side, I sat in the examining room as the doctor talked. I am sure she chose her words very carefully, but in all honesty I don't remember her speech very well.  I was trying to take notes and I didn't recognize all of the words she was using.  Besides that, the things she was communicating propelled my mind in many directions... I had trouble concentrating on her message.

I remember this:
Doctor T: "The results from your blood tests and bone marrow biopsy show that you have a disease called myelofibrosis."
Me: "How do you spell that? I've never heard of it. What is it? Is it related to Multiple Myeloma?"

The rest is a hodgepodge: "Very Rare - only two in 100,000." "Bone Marrow." "Mutation." "Chronic." "Progressive." "Fatal." "Incurable." "No treatment." "AML." "Lots of research." "Bone marrow transplant." "Specialist." "Median Survival is 7.9 years."

My head was spinning and I couldn't take it all in at once.

My bone marrow biopsy (BMB) showed moderately high levels of fibrosis - scarring that is produced when the mutant cells caused over production.  My spleen was massive and she explained that was more of a symptom than a cause of my problem. My spleen was working hard to cope with the overproduction on White Blood Cells and might also be working to produce some blood of its own.

I had tested negative for the BCR-ABL1 mutation that marked the CML she had initially guessed about, but I tested positive for the JAK2v617f mutation that about 50% of myelofibrosis patients have. My mutation was associated with a proliferation of one or more blood lines (whites, reds or platelets) and the proliferation eventually leads to the fibrosis and the failure of the bone marrow so that it cannot produce sufficient blood.

Dr. T had about three myelofibrosis patients and she recommended that I see an MPN specialist at the Cleveland Clinic. There I met Dr. G and he gave me an even more compete picture of what I was facing.

Myelofibrosis can be relatively slow moving for years or it can progress very quickly.  If it progresses it might transition to AML (acute myeloid leukemia) which is lethal.  Even without transitioning to AML the myelofibrosis can kill the patient by causing severe anemia that causes organ failure or by leading to a thrombotic event like a stroke or heart attack or by causing the failure of the immune system so that the patient dies of some infection like pneumonia. And if that is not enough, the large spleen can rupture or can result in "portal vein hypertension" that can cause bleeding in varices in the esophagus or the liver.

Suffice to say myelofibrosis is a dangerous and even deadly disease.

So, why not just have your spleen removed? Well, that is a very dangerous operation in its own right and you can die in the attempt. Besides that, for most of us our spleen is helping more than it is hurting. It is not the cause of the disease - but is trying to cope with the effects of the disease.

Well, why not go ahead and have a stem cell transplant right away?  That sounds more simple than it really is. While the disease is dangerous, it is not necessarily an immediate threat to life. People with newly diagnosed myelofibrosis that is at a low risk level might live with it for twenty years or more. But an SCT is immediately life threatening. There is a very real danger of dying from the SCT process itself and the heavy doses of chemotherapy that are required. There is a further danger that the donor cells might not implant after the transplant - in which case there is a high probability of death. Beyond that, even if the initial transplant is successful, the patient is so weakened by the process that they are vulnerable to disease and infection for several years and might die of some childhood illness before they are well enough to receive the inoculations again. Even if a person makes it through the SCT and safely out the other side they will have some degree of graft versus host (GVHD) disease to contend with for the rest of their life. Besides that, it is possible that after a few years the MF can come back.

I came to realize that the MPN doctors see SCT as a life saving procedure, but not as a life improving procedure. If a patient's situation is dire and they are not expected to live more than two or three years, it is worth trying an SCT. But if a person is in fairly good health and shows only low or moderate risk factors, then they are better off waiting to see what new medicines and procedures will be available in the coming years.

Fortunately for me, I fell in the "intermediate 1" risk category. There are various prognostic scales and they can cause confusion. The IPSS is older and is based on survival after a person's initial diagnosis. This is what we looked at when I was first diagnosed and it gave a "median survival" of 7.9 years. Some time later, I was evaluated with the DIPSS+ and given a median survival of 14.2 years.

On the one hand the 14.2 years made me feel much better. On the other hand, I found that these numbers don't really mean much to any given individual. You have a "life limiting disease" and it is very hard to say how you as an individual will do.

The clock is ticking.

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Facing My Mortality - Living My Theology

Hearing the words "leukemic process" was a shock for me. As far as I had known to that moment, I was in good shape for a 57 year old man. I exercised regularly, worked long hours and was super busy with everything from home renovations to graduate studies to international missions trips. "Leukemic process" sounded ominous and brought to mind the people I had known who suffered through cancer and cancer treatments. I easily envisioned them with emaciated bodies and bald heads struggling to do even the most routine tasks.

I had ministered to many people at the end of their lives. I had counseled them from the Bible about life and death, heaven and hell, meaning, purpose, and hope. I had prayed with them, sat with them, cried with them and sung to them. I had held their hands as they slipped into eternity.

Now it was my turn. Not so much my turn to die as my turn to put the biblical promises to the test. It is easy to say we believe something when the skies are blue and everything is well with our world. But our faith is actually proven in our crises. How do we respond when our lives are on the line? Would the message I had preached to others prove to be comforting to me in the days ahead?

The Bible says that all things work together for good to those who love God and that nothing can separate us from the love of God for us.  (Romans 8:28-39)
The Bible says that God will never leave us or forsake us.  (Hebrews 13:5)
The Bible says that through Jesus Christ we can be sure we have eternal life with God. (John 3:36)
The Bible says we should count it all joy when we have various troubles because we know God is using these to perfect us. (James 1:2-4)

When the church was gathered together on that Sunday morning I reminded them of these things. We do not know what our future may hold, but we do know that God will be faithful through everything.

This is my opportunity to live my theology as I face my own mortality. God is sufficient for these things.
 

Monday, May 2, 2016

My New Life As A Patient

MY oncologist. It came as a shock to think that I would need an oncologist of my own. At that point my stable of medical professionals only included my primary care doctor, my dentist and my ophthalmologist. Yet here I was, admitted to the hospital, stripped down to my shorts and T-shirt, lying in a hospital bed and talking to MY oncologist.

Soon I would have all kinds of other new experiences. The next day I would have my first bone marrow biopsy (BMB) and then my first CT scan. Soon I would be looking for the first time at my complete blood count (CBC) and learning what all the different abbreviations mean.

My oncologist, Dr. T, is a kind and competent hematologist/oncologist who is highly regarded in our community. At our first meeting she tried to put my mind at ease by suggesting that I might have chronic myeloid leukemia which is now well controlled with a daily pill.

On that Saturday when I was trying to walk off the pain in my hip from the BMB she told me that it had been a "dry tap" in which she couldn't get any aspirate to come up the needle. She had to poke me three or four times.  Since I was completely naive about BMBs I asked, "Is that good or bad?" She said, "It is medium." She might have already guessed my diagnosis, but she wasn't going to go there without having the test results in, so she tried to give me hope without giving me too much false hope.

As a new patient you find yourself struggling up a steep learning curve. Doctors and technicians only give you limited information and you don't even know what questions you should be asking. But remember that the doctors and medical technicians are on your side. They want to give you hope, even when they know you are facing bad news.

I walked up and down the hall enough times that I finally drove the nurses crazy and they pushed to get me released early Saturday afternoon.  Because my white blood cells were so high, they figured that my immune system might be compromised. Consequently they gave me a full course of childhood immunizations, flu shot and pneumonia shot before they let me go - including a MMR in my right tricep that made my arm swell up and hurt with a fever of its own.

I was wounded, but I was free again and I prepared to preach on Sunday morning.