The Bone Marrow Sample Story

Nothing new on the medical front today. Robbie was home from school again and fighting a bad cold. Liz and I were going to swap working from home, but she had a pop-up afternoon meeting, Robbie was being a sweetheart, and I actually got in a rhythm and got a lot of work done at home. I stayed with him all afternoon. This evening, I went to Target to buy a couple things and got a surprise and very welcome phone call from Jay Ardillo, my best friend in high school. Jay had heard about my situation and got my cell phone number from Mom. We spent 45 minutes catching up.

So in lieu of any new medical news, I thought I would share the story of my marrow sample, which would have been much more funny, except that it was happening to me.

I went into my first meeting with my oncologist Dr. Kelly, determined to move with what the reading called "deliberate haste". In other words, I planned to move quickly, but always with knowledge of what I was doing and why. One book stressed that before any agreeing to any test, you need to understand what the test is, why the doctor wants to do it, and what you hope to learn. In fact, among the questions I brought to the first interview was "What further tests do you recommend and why?" I thought this would cement my "deliberate haste" credentials.

We got to "tests" question, and Dr. Kelly said, "Well, I think we will want to take a bone marrow sample soon." Wait. Stop. Bone. Marrow. It seems like a fine idea, but unfortunately I usually keep my marrow ON THE INSIDE OF MY BONES! I couldn't imagine an comfortable scenario that included an intra-bone spelunking expedition.

Dr. Kelly, unaware of my inner dialogue, continued, "It's a shame, because the guy right before you--you probably passed him in the waiting room--has a condition almost identical to yours, and we just took a sample from him. We Fedex-ed it out to California for analysis."

The only guy I remembered from the waiting room had been grimacing through pain as he tried to put on his coat.

I was sitting there considering my close brush with marrow harvesting when a nurse stuck her head in the door to ask a question. After answering, Dr. Kelly asked his own, "Nurse Johnson, has the Fedex guy shown up yet?" "No Doctor, he's not coming for another 45 minutes." "Oh great!"

With that, I was basically yanked from my chair and herded toward the procedure room, wailing "Deliberate Haste!" all the while as they dropped my trou, laid me on my right side on a gurney, and draped my more delicate regions. Turns out they take the sample by stabbing a knitting needle into the point of your hip bone. I prepared to be brave. I did NOT look at the needle.

The shots to numb the area felt like hornet stings. I wanted shots to numb the shots that numb.

Full disclosure: those lidocain shots used to numb the area were by and far away the most painful part of the procedure. There was considerable pressure as Dr. Kelly was taking the sample, and one or two "hoo-ya" moments, but all in all it really wasn't that bad.

Afterward the nurse showed me the sample. She pointed out to me that it was red, not white. I guess she was working on some instinct that said I would enjoy seeing my various internal fluids on display. Thanks, no.

The next day it felt like someone had stuck an F-ing big needle in my hipbone, a feeling that all but disappeared over the next three days.

There, the story of the marrow sample. Good night, all.

Personal note to Louise: Thanks for the comments and please keep them coming. I'll call you soon.