Dad, Ski's, and Delays by Kasia

This week we have been blessed by the presence of Mr. Gary Sutherland himself, the legend.  Mr. Gary flew in on Saturday afternoon to kick off round two of chemotherapy.  By everything you have read to date, you can only imagine what this does to Robert's spirits.  You would almost think that cancer was scared straight out of Robert’s body, and that he was 100% healthy, strong, and cancer free.  The last few days have been filled with endless jokes, sarcasm, hockey, ski days, and a feeling of normality and routine.  It seems that the motherly comfort of Mrs. Fran, followed by some brotherly love, the sprinkle of sisterly inspiration, and topped off by the strong father-son bond, was just what the doctor ordered.  Cancer had no fighting chance in round two.

Best. Picture. Ever.

On Monday we woke up early and were ready to kick start the long week of chemo.  We shuffled into the car, drove down to IMC, picked the leather chair with the best view of the mountains and most privacy, watched as the nurse put in the IV that would stay in all week, and then we waited for the first bag of clear liquid fight.

We waited.  

Eventually our nurse came out, empty-handed.  Then came the words that none of us expected,

"We cannot do chemo today."

Let me backpedal a little bit to give you a better understanding of this situation.

From the first day of chemotherapy Robert has been hosting a full-fledged battle, silently through the night, continuing from sunrise to sunset.   He has an active battlefield crusading through his bloodstream, with natural cells stampeding through his body calling for the back up of chemo to beat quickly multiplying cancer cells.  

A few weeks ago, in an effort to dumb down the nearly impossible explanation of the effect chemo has on the body and cancer cells, our nurse created a very understandable analogy:  cancer cells are like light bulbs and our body's cells are like a mason jar.  Since cancer cells are quickly multiplying they do not take the time to fully develop into strong cells our body develops.  Our bodies create quality, while cancer creates quantity.  The cancer cells may win by numbers, but when calling in chemo, they cannot withstand the treatment as some of our body’s cells do.   The "light bulbs" easily shatter while hitting the ground, while the "mason jars" take a good beating, but are not completely shattered or broken. 

Our body also creates fast multiplying cells such as white blood cells and the cells that make up our hair.  Last Monday Robert started to lose his hair, and is currently sporting a very sleek and handsome dome.  This should be a relief to many of us since this means that chemo is destroying the fast multipliers, good and bad.  Chemo and Robert are killing cancer.

Mr. Clean never looked so good.

Inevitably with the destruction of evil, there are often casualties.  As previously mentioned, white blood cells, the fighters, often drop along side other, very important, naturally occurring counts in the body.  Mayoclinic.com gives a great explanation of these side effects.

With a low white blood cell count and, in particular, a low level of neutrophils (neutropenia), a type of white blood cell that fights infection, you're at higher risk of developing an infection. And if you develop an infection when you have a low white blood cell count, your body can't protect itself. Infection can lead to death in severe cases. Even a mild infection can delay your chemotherapy treatment, since your doctor may wait until your infection is cleared and your blood counts go back up before you continue. Your doctor may also recommend medication to increase your body's production of white blood cells.”

Yesterday, Robert's blood counts were far too low for him to move forward with his regimen.  His white blood cells, the fighters, were far below what I will call the "red line”, a magic number that all the doctors follow closely through chemo.  For this particular count, doctors do not want patients falling below a 1.5.  To put this into perspective, before starting therapy he was a 2.6.

Today Robert is a .2.

In layman's terms, this means that his body is lacking the ability to fight infection.  Being exposed to a common cold can be extremely dangerous, and we cannot do chemo.

I assume that everyone’s first questions are the same as ours were: Why? What could have been done to prevent this?  The answer is, chemo and nothing. There is nothing that we could have done to prevent this, it can happen, and it obviously does happen.  The next 3 days Robert will be given a shot to boost his counts.  When above 1.5 he can continue chemo, hopefully this coming Monday. 

When I say that our first questions were those above, I do not include Robert in “our”.  His first question may have been “why?” but his second question should not have come as a surprise to any of us.

“Can I ski?”

Robert Manley does not let anything break him down.  He is a rock with a focus on the pursuit of happiness.  He lives by the rule that many of us could benefit from: Happiness is health.

Robert can ski, he can be happy, and he will be healthy.  His numbers will be increased by the help of the doctors and he will continue his fight towards the total destruction of cancer on the Sutherland battlefield, all while skiing the slopes of beautiful Park City.