Mick McKellar Update--Day +44
The spring sky outside my window is cheery, sunshine everywhere and temperatures as high as 57 degrees this afternoon -- the perfect tease to a house-bound spirit. We had no hospital business today, so I spent most of it sleeping and dreaming about walking under a clear Copper Country sky on a crisp summer morning.
The mystery of the rash continues, although we may find some answers from the biopsy and other tests tomorrow. I remain lethargic and (this is cool) although the surface of the rash is hot, underneath I am having chills and cannot seem to stay warm enough.
We are praying that the rash is an allergic reaction to the Bactrim, a sulfa drug they attempted to desensitize me to. It could also be a manifestation of Graft versus Host Disease (GVHD) in which my brother's T-cells suddenly realize they are not in Kansas (pardon me, Kevin) anymore and start attacking any fast growing cells in sight. This is good news in part because they will attack and destroy any remaining cancer cells. The dark side is that they then attack hair, skin, mouth, intestinal cells and seem to like to go after the kidneys and the liver. There are signs some of this may be happening. If GVHD is attacking my skin, then it becomes a life-threatening problem.
In any case, I cannot seem to get enough sleep right now or get warm enough.
A little warmth
As I sat with shivers this afternoon, I remembered back some 50+ years to our home on North Crown St., in Westland, MI. A simple ranch style, three bedroom tract home, we lived there many years. Central heating meant a Warm Morning Gas Space Heater. At the west end of our living room, not quite center of the house, was a large slotted metal box, brown except for the front which sported a tan metal face and large glass window. Behind the window were decorative fire brick lattice work panels, through which we could watch the propane gas burning merrily to heat our little home.
As with all such homes, the warmest spot was near the heater. At night my dad would turn down the stove and we all piled into bed. Because it was very cold at night in the house, we all slept in good quality sleeping bags. For each one, my Mom had taken a single bed sheet, and oversown two sides to form a bag-liner. The liners were washed like sheets and we had snuggly warm cocoons for sleeping.
The early call of warmth
My dad left for work very early every day - about 5:30 AM - to begin his work shift at 6:00 AM. After he left my mom would tidy up after breakfast and lunch preparations and then turn the heat up on the space heater.
There was a rug directly in front of the space heater. And the heater forced most of its heat via a blower out the front over that rug. Mom would sit on the rug and wait a few seconds. Almost immediately, five pajama-clad shadows appeared and crowded in next to her for the next half-hour or so, as that wonderful heat poured out across the floor and over our shivering extremities.
We stared at the dancing flames in the dark living room, watching shadows prance along the walls and ceiling. We talked freely as the precious and wonderful heat soaked into our bones. Those early morning group hugs were some of the most peaceful and happy times I remember from back then.
Everyone dreaded 6:45 AM, because we had to get ready for school, and the magic was lost. Family meals were still held at the dinner table, together, but it was not the same.
The closest perhaps were those Saturday mornings when my dad made pancakes. He had an old cast iron griddle that covered two burners on the gas stove. Once that monster got hot enough, he could crank out pancakes almost as fast as we could eat them, all covered with butter and Mapelene . Mapelene was an extract, added to boiling water and sugar, heated on the stove. It was a bit thin, but it tasted great and we ate, oh how we ate!
Warm thoughts
Now, I depend on your warm thoughts, and loving prayers for the inner peace and strength to defend against the chill. I can feel your prayers and thoughts, like that stream of warm air from the old space-heater. The cards, the e-mails and messages, the calls and the responses to my journal are the fuel for my recovery.
Thank you for your generosity in sending bits of home to warm our hearts. Marian and I both thank you so much.
God bless you all and good night (big day tomorrow)
Mick