tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86054592294469691522010-02-27T13:23:08.406-08:00Follow along as I prepare for and hopefully survive a reduced-intensity allogeneic transplant from a matched, unrelated donor. 20% it kills me, 20% it cures me, and the other results are about the same as the aSCT I THOUGHT I was going to have last February. Of course, I also write about everything in my life having to do with fighting and living with cancer.Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-48467491263416909802010-02-23T13:12:00.000-08:002010-02-23T15:44:25.266-08:00

The Gift of Life Somewhere in the world there is a donor who is a very good marrow match for me! Wouldn't you just know that I would have an exceedingly rare type requiring weeks of scouring the data to find any reasonable donors, let alone a good one. Nevertheless, I've kept quiet about this because after you've found a donor there are certain additional things that have to be ascertained before

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-84090418563245643342010-02-09T19:21:00.000-08:002010-02-09T23:20:51.721-08:00

After seventeen days in Scripps Green Hospital in La Jolla, I'm home but I don't know for how long. I've advanced to the next stage of the End Game, about which I began writing a long time ago. I don't have enough strength or skill at the moment to adequately explain the second stage of the end game, but, in brief, there comes a time when treating one life-critical problem makes it more

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-72367872177954648502010-02-02T15:57:00.000-08:002010-02-02T15:57:19.482-08:00

If you look out my bedroom window a few hundred yards to the west, you will see a big chunk of the Blue Pacific over the heads of the dazzled Torrey Pines golfers. At Scripps Green Hospital, I'd rather have a room overlooking the main parking lot because the Internet signal is so much better on the land side of the hospital than on the water side, but, then, I never claimed to have a balanced set

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-83084648126417521632010-01-26T15:02:00.000-08:002010-01-26T15:02:36.413-08:00

The confidence Obama radiated when it came to managing a generational and massive change in health care puzzled me. It was more than confidence, really: somehow fixing health care was such a sure thing he could give Congress all the time it needed to work out the details, none of which seemed essential to him. Occasionally he would make impatient noises, but not loudly enough to bother anyone

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-14426375052419863062010-01-15T09:29:00.000-08:002010-01-15T09:29:02.711-08:00

On Tuesday, I needed an long infusion of Igg because after looking at my immunoglobulin panel, it became clear that I have no or few working normal immunoglobulins. I may rewrite this post when able with explanations because this is the 4th day of a 40mg dex pulse and I'm incompetent as hell today as a writer, but for now, accept that the results of the Igg test, not normally used by light

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-37964025866582067762010-01-08T09:04:00.000-08:002010-01-08T22:12:30.591-08:00

The most important miracle in my new life, my marriage with Ivonne, I've talked about. The second miracle, the medical miracle I discovered that may yet save my life, I have talked about. What I haven't talked about is the terrifying, confusing, hostile, dangerous process of bringing her to live with me in America. I have written a substantial post on the subject, or at least a crackling-good

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-23235485897619824352010-01-04T08:23:00.000-08:002010-01-10T09:46:47.620-08:00

The New Year holiday has never meant much to me. I don't think I've been invited to a cocktail party in thirty years. I don't make resolutions. I do like to watch an exciting, close football game but if the score isn't close I regret wasting my time. I have no favorites except Yale. This year is different. My bizarre brain, which generally does whatever it wants to do, is obsessing on redefining

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-88961572866397609582009-12-24T10:31:00.000-08:002009-12-28T02:48:01.016-08:00

A year of data Multi-Drug Resistance. MDR pokes you in the eye from this and older charts. I've tried every drug that's doesn't require being in a clinical trial to get, and failed to obtain at least one that is. In the beginning, when my luck ran high, everything worked quickly and easily. Now, everything works for a short time, then fails. There is very little left I can try. Arsenic. You know

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-57527221388968008492009-12-20T14:26:00.000-08:002009-12-21T05:54:27.005-08:00

I'm a scientist. I don't believe in miracles. They are impossible. However, twice this year I have been presented with an event so improbable and yet so undeniable that my logical, analytic brain staggered as if knocked out in a WWE Smackdown. My brain still cannot explain away these, what shall I call them, great, unexpected gifts? (None of my terminology seems to be correct. We like to say

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-80882933553545401762009-12-07T10:24:00.000-08:002009-12-27T08:40:02.065-08:00

Highly intelligent people often display a huge gift: the ability to rapidly and distantly free associate, connecting ideas to areas that are so far away that most people can't see the connections unless they are patiently taught. There are other aspects to intelligence, of course, but the ability to free associate over vast mental distances is one of the most obvious to the sensitive onlooker.

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-56361445276632762532009-11-23T10:13:00.000-08:002009-11-23T10:17:15.828-08:00

Scientists are extremely opinionated, despite the occasionally-awkward public attempts to appear to be otherwise. By "opinionated," I mean that we passionately believe something to be true despite lacking proof.  But, as scientists, we want to do the arduous work of designing experiments that would confirm or deny our beliefs. (By the way, in my experience, and able to offer no explanation,

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-79335001525502389142009-11-21T11:55:00.000-08:002009-11-22T08:36:06.145-08:00

Yeti: 1992–2009 Ivonne summed up Yeti better than I could, in a single sentence: Yeti was all about love. He greeted every visitor, remembered them, had the loudest purr of any cat I've ever known (as a vet tech once said, "He has a good motor"). Visitors who didn't love, or at least tolerate, cats, were not welcome in my house. He could also hug you with his arms, and squeeze your finger

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-85722244225037457422009-11-14T13:20:00.000-08:002009-11-14T13:23:42.661-08:00

The squiggly red line, which approximates the number of plasma cells in the body, both normal and malignant, has reached the stratosphere. If we can't stop its rise, it will stop mine. It rose seventy-three points in one week. Malignant plasma cells crowd out what I need to fend off infections. The value should be 1.94 or less. It is now 304. The time has come to make sure that my emergency

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-64133577664622708742009-11-10T13:40:00.000-08:002009-12-21T05:57:31.863-08:00

In the eleven years I've been fighting multiple myeloma, having a long-term plan has let me live a relatively normal life. In the beginning, I didn't know what was important, so I studied all aspects of the disease. Back then this kind of study was quite difficult because the Internet was still young — the only way to get a journal article was to xerox it at a medical library. But as time passed

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-12286379513047154512009-09-22T22:08:00.000-07:002009-12-21T06:05:28.202-08:00

I, the Registrar, Ivonne, and June Welsh, wife to my Best Man, Lee Three weeks ago today Ivonne and I were married. The shock that followed the escalation of my cherished $50 drive-thru wedding to something closer to one hundred times that costly passed smoothly with the first Margarita at the reception, which I had made part of the contract with my favorite restaurant, Baci Ristorante: the

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-51431517721050178602009-08-23T09:38:00.000-07:002009-12-21T06:09:32.617-08:00

Watching Obama struggle with implacable resistance to his health-care initiative has been as exasperating as watching a full-length performance of Hamlet: although it has been obvious since Act I that Hamlet needs to avenge his father, he is hopelessly conflicted will not act! Is Obama willing to fight for the public plan (which should be medicare for all who want it) or not? Will he abandon

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-85660772769363528362009-08-18T07:30:00.000-07:002009-12-21T06:13:49.060-08:00

Fifty dollars. That's all a wedding license costs in California. Not only that, for another fifty the County will perform the service on the grounds of its handsome old administration building on San Diego bay. Throw in another ten bucks for a commemorative digital picture and you have every sensitive man's dream: The $110 wedding. California, being California, you can almost do it as a

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-12172878823269559992009-08-10T07:36:00.000-07:002009-08-13T10:48:03.992-07:00

Philosophers, because they tell the truth, are often hated. A philosopher will, after hearing me whine about having an incurable, universally-fatal cancer, tell me that there is nothing substantially different about us: we all live under a sentence of death attached to a date uncertain and should all live accordingly.The assertion infuriates me. While being theoretically and logically correct,

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-89292071065909180872009-08-09T08:23:00.000-07:002009-08-12T10:35:23.068-07:00

This poem, one of the most misunderstood in the English language, addresses end-of-life issues common to everyone, not just restless ancient heroes nor those of us fighting multiple myeloma. Ulysses is clearly in the End Game. I am presenting it "as is" except for marking some lines to linger over, but later may discuss the poem in detail for what it tells us about reactions to common end-game

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-90337472577158300942009-08-08T07:53:00.000-07:002009-08-09T07:21:29.059-07:00

The Wedding SiteA huge part of me is completely absorbed with the wedding and its usual and customary ordeals. We have the license. There are rings. There is a date (Friday, September 4th) and a place (the wedding gazebo/chuppah on the grounds of the 1938 Spanish Revival/Beaux-Arts County Administration Center). Travel plans for old friends. A best man and an usherette. Tequila and mariachis!Yet

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-82280682633458978492009-07-30T09:47:00.000-07:002009-08-01T08:20:10.351-07:00

I've recently discovered that it is impossible to schedule a short date for a minimal, sensible wedding because, at some point in the process, fiancées connect to a primitive female communications sub-carrier, which appears to men to consist of slow, deep-in-the-jungle drumbeats, a link that removes the discussion from anything a man is capable of understanding. I suspect all women of all

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-73578735814820170802009-07-22T07:49:00.000-07:002009-07-23T10:28:49.644-07:00

*** WEDDING (BODA) PLANSBeing miraculously temperamentally well-suited, Ivonne and I are getting married either at the end of this month or the beginning of August. In some sense it's so simple as to be laughable: in California, with two forms of ID and $50, you can do it almost as a drive-through. They should have a fast-food menu as well.A traditional Mexican wedding walk in Vera Cruz***

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-37187966160291759582009-07-10T08:19:00.000-07:002009-07-10T10:14:54.837-07:00

I do believe in rebirth, although not in any religious sense. There is something quintessentially American about the idea that no matter how badly you've ruined your life, you can always pack up your essentials and light out in the middle of the night, not stopping until you're far enough away that no one knows (or cares) who you are. Because your history defines and confines you, your old

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-11701875952271280652009-07-08T03:20:00.000-07:002009-07-08T07:01:19.005-07:00

Click to EnlargeNo sane person would want to linger in the Last Ditch: it is deep, dark, and dangerous. Yet, once mired in it, escape is problematic. The sides are steep and slippery, the way out unknown, and there are a disturbing number of corpses at the bottom. I want out of here! As I show on the chart above, there was no response for two weeks after the first bendamustine infusion (May

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8605459229446969152.post-81277295873555543162009-06-30T10:23:00.000-07:002009-12-20T09:53:53.351-08:00

A veritable miracle has shattered my unshakable disbelief in the supernatural. My doubts are having doubts. I swoon in the confusion that generally precedes true enlightenment. Imagine, if you will, that first romantic dinner, the candlelight and soft music, European waiters dressed in tuxedos, maybe with a strolling violinist pretending to be Fritz Kreisler. There are fancy drinks to loosen

Lon Nesselerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05544465172485743313noreply@blogger.com5