Category — Articles.

This week I received two very lovely comments regarding my poems, both in the same vein informing me how much folk enjoy them and how they helped them when grieving or in pain. Yes of course I receive daily comments, it would be unusual if you wrote a blog and never heard from anyone but sometimes the wording of these comments propel you forward to keep trying to perfect the one perfect verse. I am supremely pleased when anyone leaves a comment, just to imagine someone  taking time from their busy schedule to bother to email me saying how much they enjoyed my words, a phrase, or a particular poem delights me. Sometimes they may refer to my words having helped or brought healing tears at a point in the lives when sadness was choking or blocking their emotions. That upon reading the simple phrases written here, they say it was enough to know someone understood their own pain and could perhaps share it with them. Being sad or worried is a lonely road and often one you cannot continually share with your personal friends or family. Grief affects us all at some time in our lives and to different degrees  but I yearn to understand how some of us survive while others do not.

Unless you have been or are a Carer, it is often difficult to understand the daily stress of following harsh schedules and the responsibilities for another person’s life. So often this comes upon you suddenly and it is difficult to absorb all that appears before you. If you have no nursing experience you are confronted with serious decisions to help your partner to make regarding the right path to take with medical matters plus the emotional side too; often with no outlet for your own feelings, which hover near the surface daily. My choice was to write down my daily feelings and in my simple words I found a voice that started privately but ended up world-wide! I will try to continue with my ‘poems of love’ after reading these two rather special comments this week asking me to do so.  Blessings and thanks dear friends.

On another little subject that seems to be most difficult at this time of the year for the newly bereaved is the putting- up of Christmas decorations. Often these have great sentimental memories attached to them and are often collected together over the years if you have been together for a long time. I have talked of this recently with dear friends on-line and through social networks. Folk who are struggling even to get a few pieces out of boxes for the festive season. Me too I’m afraid. Really I feel it depends whether you have grandchildren visiting or not. Last year when very newly bereaved I made a huge effort to do all the ‘normal things’ especially for my Grandson and family. I found it most difficult but he had lost his beloved Grandpa only the month before and I wanted all to be as it was in previous years when he visited. As if it could possibly be but I am sure you understand. I wanted him to think nothing else had changed too much. My feelings if you live alone now, that perhaps changing things a little can help. It’s painful when so much is going on around you, Christmas displays and festive music in all the shops makes it difficult to function without sadness as it is. So instead of having your normal decorations, perhaps having a small arrangement of twinkling branches maybe flowers instead of the tradition tree if that is what you used to share with your special person. Change things a little. Perhaps a decorated photo of your loved one with gorgeous scented candles that can be lit when the mood feels right for you, would be better for your heart.

When Hamada was very ill he would love to look at the Christmas lights even more than before when he was busy, he would watch as I decorated the tree with little suggestions here and there.  The following poem written in 2008 tells about that and is shown below. Have a joyous Christmas my dear friends with all your good memories, as precious as the love you will always have for your special person.

In Christmas Lights.

Sharp and crisp as snowy nights

crystal clear in prism lights,

gentle orbs that sparkle bright

shining are your eyes tonight.

Reflected jewels of liquid amber

like dripping rich fondant creams,

chocolate in the deepest hue,

I bow my head to look at you

Eyes that hold this strangeness well

in candlelight they watch and drink

forgotten words, much time to think.

A bitter pill that’s hard for you,

as fairy lights come into view,

white and gold’s, red and greens,

you simply watch in reverent scene,

reflections in those honest eyes

of baubles and of Christmas time.

In Christmas lights my poems for you

expressed in love, a poignant view…

All Rights Reserved: 2008

I felt it appropriate on this first anniversary to post again two poems written around this time last year. The first, the simple poem “This Rollercoaster Life” was written when I knew and needed to accept that there was no more that could be done for Hamada or rather that there was no more medical intervention that our dearest Hamada could possibly have managed or that he wanted done. Although we still kept hope alive really apart from the love and tender care I could possibly achieve during his final days, I knew I had to accept that this was the time to stop fighting to keep him with us and pass on my care to the Almighty.  The second poem was written shortly after losing  Hamada and deals with the acute and painful feelings of this time. Letting go with dignity is hard when all you want to do is scream aloud with the painful sadness you feel. I have made it through this first year with much help from my dear family, very close friends and my MM friends worldwide. I thank them from the bottom of my heart for their love and patience but mostly I chose to grieve in private, apart from a few rants on here or when hearing a favourite song or piece of music that we both loved, caught me unaware. I may place a smile on my face everyday but my heart tells a different story.This man was much to miss! 

“Hamada’s story” is still and will remain on http://www.susiehemingway.blogspot.com  It is in reverse order for the new friends who I know come here from other sites to  read about MM, ending with his final days and covering more than four years. All aspects of emotion in the form of poems and many entries on caring and loving someone deeply as we both came to terms with the disease that is Multiple Myeloma.

Today and always I salute this special man: “I miss you dearest one as the sun comes up everyday and the moon appears at night, and as private as my tears fall, I miss you with every breath I take”

“This Rollercoaster Life” – 24 October 2010.

As swooping as the Rollercoaster

my heart hangs in fearful suspended news

that fills these ‘purple days’.

Days that bring shattered dreams,

only the strongest mind can hold.

My laughter becomes an echo that teeters on the edge

as I snap and break at disclosures strewn around.

My heart bleeds to dissolve this anger

which knows no bounds and as unruly as my mind.

Soaring high into this shimmering mosaic sky,

I hang on like a child that screams into the wind,

as these punishing swoops, turn into views as

fragile and as consuming as this Rollercoaster life.

All Rights Reserved:  October 2010.

“Let Me Not”  – 2 December 2010.

Let me not falter dear Lord.

Let me not fall at this final hurdle.

Guide me now to complete this task.

Let me not plaintively wail and scream as my heart doth now.

Allow me to show dignity that he always showed.

Let me not stand beneath the stars and scream his name aloud.

Let me remember this day, as we honour him.

Grant me the courage that he always showed.

Let me not go down on my bended knees and shout at the sky,

And implore you to return him to me.

Let me not fall at this final hurdle.

Give me the strength Oh Lord not to fail,

with this final task…

All Rights Reserved: November 2010

"Poetry is the opening and closing of a door,
leaving those who look through to guess about
what is seen during a moment" Carl Sandburg

God Bless Hamada.

As this month embraces Autumn I recall the September of last year  and the wretched struggles of that time. I suppose in retrospect this backward view, this sorrowful indulgence, is something that those bereaved need to do. A kind of  summing up as you approach  the first anniversary without your special person. It is not maudlin or mawkishly sentimental, far from it. It is for me necessary for shall we say, the organization of the mind.

In the early months of loss, when so numb the years of caring seemed like a bad dream. I could not breathe without pain through the sorrow and  I would have turned back the pages of the book to have him back with me in an instant. Of course never to see again  the horrors of this disease or  the damage it inflicted on this gentle wise  man or for him to suffer on and on but just to hear his voice calling my name or to see his eyes light up when I entered his room.

I was not the only one amongst our friends to suffer loss that year. MM took many of our newly made friends in 2010.  Friends made at the hospital, diagnosed at the same time and internet friends made out of a need to follow together as Carers. We used our common knowledge, clung together in an effort to help, support and glean information fr0m each other when we could. We became a strong body and positive in our efforts to champion, protect and help.

For the first few months of MM although I clearly knew the facts but because of our strong love, I believed we could beat this disease and although I saw and knew well the terrible changes overcoming Hamada, I continued with hope until the end.It goes without saying that this period of my life, the immense shock at diagnosis, the daily struggles, doing my best to help was and has  been without doubt  the most difficult period of my life but we made it to the end with peace and dignity and you will too my dear friends, the many of you who are still fighting for your love ones. Obtaining the best care you can for them and guiding them daily, to achieve a good quality of life from this a most difficult disease and the saddest period of your life.

Together  with love and tenderness these days become supremely special and will stay eternally in your memory.  It’s really all we ever want is it not, to be loved and well cared for in our final hours.

As Hamada’s first anniversary approaches, I have decided not to write here again about his ‘journey’ unless asked for advice or information regarding caring with Multiple Myeloma. I hope to move on to other subjects  but I will of course follow my friends blogs, checking in on them from time to time to see how they are doing.

I think my dear one should be allowed to rest in peace now. My intentions are to take time to get on with the years left to me. To enjoy each God given day to the best of my ability and to embrace new joys that have presented themselves. It would after all be just what Hamada would have wanted.

*“There comes a time to remind yourself of your reasons for living. You have a future worth enduring and you deserve to find a renewed sense of purpose and pleasure in your life”

*From Grief Therapy by Karen Katafiasz.

Taking little steps and turning the pages of a new life is often difficult. A life that will be so different for you without the one you love. As I knew long before Hamada died, that he would not survive MM. We discussed a plan that would help sustain me through this bereaved time. Taking a little holiday as soon as I felt well enough to do so was something Hamada in his wisdom had suggested. I have always wanted to travel more, there are so many places yet to see and certainly not so many years as there once was to do this in! I would make a gentle start with a small trip as part of my healing process. We never dwelled on him dying but often mentioned little things that I remember now that were  all said to help me. Now at his six month anniversary I have achieved my first trip away and how very lovely it was too.

I selected something easy and not far away, Denia in Spain.  A place I had first visited back in 1968. When as a young woman I had stayed as a guest in a beautiful villa “Mar-Jon” close to the base of Mount Montgo, the mountain that sits as a watchful eye over this pretty seaside town.

Now of course packed to the gills with villas in every available space but still just as charming. I loved it then and always thought I would  return one day. Selecting a good hotel safe for single travellers with all the comforts of home was fun to do. Marvellous food, loads of good fish and delicious vegetables and desserts and with people my age and older, all looking for a genteel time, of course with fun and laughter but aimed at comfort and ease. It was delightful to listen to stirring new conversations and make new friends among the well travelled there. I was surprised to know that some had been returning to this part of Spain for many years, singles and couples all very happy with the clean and efficiently run hotel with its excellent bar and enjoyable evening music. An attractive place to unwind after a good dinner and a  day of walking and swimming.

Denia in Spain is still a lovely town retaining much of its authentic Spanish charm. The picturesque marina that I remembered as a small place back in the 60’s, is set beneath the pretty old Castle; it had stayed long in my memory. Now a fabulous place full of luxury yachts of opulence, marvellous paved walk-ways and wonderful cafes and tapas bars with upstairs terraces for fabulous views of the bay. I spent most of my days walking in the warm sunshine, admiring the sleek ‘sun seekers’ and the huge ‘gin palaces’ shining and pristine with gleaming chrome, their smooth lines of design resting gently upon the bright blue of the Mediterranean sea and so ready for the ocean.

I stopped each morning for marvellous Americano coffees to take in the beautiful views, then walked some more in the warmth of the Mediterranean sunshine. My shoulders  relaxed as I drunk in the beautiful vistas and for the first time in many months not – and I know this sounds so selfish – having to worry about pushing a wheelchair or almost carrying my dear Hamada. I could have walked there forever with the gentle sun warming my soul.

A weekly market in Denia was a bustling delight, reminding me in some ways of the colourful souks of the middle east I purchased from a grand selection, two rather nice sun-suits for further holidays. The sweet Spanish lady insisting I tried them on over my t-shirt!  Still she was right they fitted perfectly and would have still been cheap at twice the price. Bright and gaudy stalls covering a large area sold all manner of things and certainly worth time spent there. The level walk to the town centre along pretty streets with the red white and pink of the bougainvillea covering pretty courtyards in perfect weather was a delight.

Slowly I could feel the stress and strains of the past five years release from my body. I thought of  Hamada often, as I embraced Denia and of my new life as a single person now. Enjoying this pretty mostly unspoilt town that has retained much of  its Spanish charm with many places to stop for a cooling drink or little tapas. I enjoyed the best deep fried calamari’s (squid) I have ever tasted!

Sitting under the vine leaves of a centre cafe complete with fountain and pretty shops to view. I thought back on the struggles of  many months past, knowing that I had done my best in everyway for my precious man and that he would have been so happy for me as I embraced a new life. There will be many sad times for me of that I am sure. For indeed he was my soul-mate but I am taking little steps and turning the pages slowly of this ‘new’ life…  I am a strong woman and I have “The Power Within” to survive  -Blessings  dear friends.

It seems forever since I looked into those eyes,  yet the memory of your face is as clear as the picture below. How can six months have past without you by my side? Sleep well beloved.

I see you in my dreams and know you dream of me,  just as you always promised – from the ‘box of secrets’

Sleep well beloved…

Six Months Anniversary.

On the day of  Hamada’s Funeral my very dear Sister Sally – who is really a cousin but we call her sister because we all grew-up very closely together, and we love her so – presented me with this very beautiful framed photo of Hamada with a verse underneath. How wise she was at the time and although her so sad eyes showed her painful feelings for me and for the loss of  our dear Hamada, she knew I would take great comfort when reading this verse after everyone had left and when alone. 

During the past five months I have read this verse daily and as Sally  had rightly thought, it has brought much comfort to me and the wise words contain therein have indeed helped my heart to heal some.

As I embark on new ventures this week, with my first holiday alone since Hamada died. I feel it would be good to share these words with my other friends who read here and are also sadly bereaved.

Blessings to you all dear friends. I pray that each day will bring light and peace and many unexpected blessings, as you make your way with your love tucked safely in your heart, to continue with a different life. Here are the words that have helped me:

“You can shed tears that he has gone, or you can smile because he has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that he’ll come back, or you can open your eyes and see all that he’s left.

Your heart can be empty because you can’t see him, or you can be full of  the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live for yesterday. You can remember him and only that he’s gone, or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, and be empty and turn your back, or you can do what he would want -

Smile, open your eyes , love and go on.”

I know Hamada would have wanted this – for me to smile, open my eyes, love and go on…

Dear John,

Monday 24 Jan.2011

Yes indeed we can John, we can do all manner of things if those things bring us comfort. Kissing the special bookmark is a tender act of remembrance as you think of your wife. We fought long and hard to help our partners and so the path we take to bring comfort is ours  to choose and ours alone to find. If  a little gesture brings some peace or comfort to us, then it’s a must.

I try to keep busy to get through the days although not so in the first few weeks. I have now started  this distraction therapy with a little work at “Hemingway”  Work that was long overdue, re-designing the kitchen bringing it more up-to-date. Planning in my mind little things to take care of during the next few weeks, I thought might help? I sincerely hope your days have not been too painful this week.

When tending a love one and making all decisions for their medical care, arranging  drug ordering, keeping the many hospital appointments and with all their personal needs to attend to. The very many things that are important to make their days comfortable.  Then all of a sudden when they are no longer here and all their daily needs stop, it is like losing a right arm. A huge chasm opens  up, a void you feel like jumping into. The awful emptiness that fills your mind and  time “what do I do now”.

So I have been trying to fill my days with little projects. Not terribly exciting plans but achieving something small everyday gives me a structure to focus on, a sense of purpose in a way. I talk to Hamada  often just like he is in the other room as I am sure you talk to your precious wife also. I still put on his favourite music forgetting he is no longer there to listen but hoping he can, am I mad?

I was cleaning the window of his bedroom from the outside, something I often did- in between the window cleaners coming-so he could always have a nice shiny perfectly clear view of the sky. As I was rubbing away at the glass  I could clearly see Hamada’s reflection in the glass! I looked and saw him propped up in his bed smiling at me.  So I bent forward and blew him a kiss then on seeing clearly that the room was empty, my heart filled with such pain again at the missing of him. Things like that upset your day, the desire to see your love one just one more time, or for me to hear his  beautiful voice often overwhelms.

So keeping busy for me is paramount but I’m still not up to large social ‘do’s’ I live in a tiny village, our community is close and there are often rather nice things to attend. Village Hall Dinners, Music evenings but I’m not ready for those yet. I scuttle and flurry about like some demented black bat with my private thoughts and memories at times frightened they might vanish. Silly really for if they did, so would I. Of course we shall survive not living the life we had imagined but we shall keep our memories safe and perhaps by talking about our grief we may give some hope to others.

I pray you have a peaceful week and manage to enjoy some good days.

All very best wishes for your continued peace.

Susie.x

Hi Anne,

Wednesday 26 Jan 2011.

Yes today was difficult just like you said it would be, the horrid two month anniversary. Can it really be this long? You said it would be this way and you are so much further down this difficult road with your loss than I. Eight weeks!  this longing to have him back seems as if it has been forever. The quietness now in the house after all the bustle and arrangements of funeral etc. I am sure it is harder in a way for us because we spent so much time with our partners. Far more than any ‘normal’ relationship. Caring takes all the hours in a day unless you are lucky to have some help. Even so, it is hard to leave your loved one and for most of us, we were hardly apart in the last few weeks at all. How close we became, almost breathing together in the end, watching and tending to their needs in those last precious moments together. Then the exhaustion that arrived when all was completed and all necessary paperwork attended to. I could not think of anything except my loss and the wishing he was with me here again.I found myself spending much time sleeping in the first few weeks, buried deep beneath mounds of duvet; the weather was freezing with snow that matched well my icy heart and body. I did not wish to wake from the place without pain but I would always manage to get up in the early hours, shower and dress. The first thought on waking was so painful and my whole body shook with grief and longing. I found it hard to get warm although the central heating is perfectly adequate. Being shivery is normal I believe and impossible to get warm I would creep back to bed at the first opportunity. All I longed for were hot baths and even hotter mugs of black tea and to be completely alone.Fancy those being the only things that could bring comfort during this time, I would clasp the mugs of tea as if they were a life line.

You have told me of your comforts, how different we all are but whatever works is the right path to take. As these days go by we will see a progress in taking a new direction with our lives and that in turn may give us some peace. Look forward to hearing from you again.

All fondest wishes and hope for your recovery.

Susie x

“Tell yourself how well you do. You may discover you’re doing better than you thought”

Permission granted as “open letters”  All Rights Reserved.

“Sorrow is better than fear…

fear is a journey, a terrible journey,

but sorrow is at least an arriving.”

Alan Paton.

Looking back on the fifty- five months of  caring  for Hamada and although the sadness is an utterly desolate pit to try to escape from. I am inclined to agree with the words above. From the time of diagnosis although very hard to take onboard, my first and paramount thought was how can I make this time, this journey for Hamada the best it can be. Most  importantly especially at the end.

At times this consumed me but certainly not all the time. I was so busy fighting for the best treatment for him and learning all I could about the particular disease of Multiple Myeloma but often in the early hours of the morning when sleep was over and my mind was as sharp as it can be these days. I worried that perhaps the end would not be as I hoped for him.

I had talked to Hamada as the months went by about what he wanted most when the time came. We did not dwell on these morbid thoughts and often I denied positively that this time was not on the horizon, or in the next few months as was first thought. Often declaring  sincerely that he would probably outlive me.

I always gave Hamada great hope that this would not be for many years to come and certainly for a vast number  of MM sufferers this is now so. Hamada was a quietly wise man but he  had many complications that I knew were insurmountable and so I think did he.  We never gave way to hopelessness and only considered losing the battle on rare occasions. Never dwelling, just getting on with treatments and trying to make each day important  and special. With many goals to reach along the way.

I knew from these occasional discussions that he so wanted to be in our little home here in the country. He wanted to die looking at the sky in the comfort of his own bed, listening to his favourite songs and with me at his side. Thank goodness this was so.

So often as my family will testify, I worried(feared) that Hamada would be whisked away to hospital and not be where his heart desired to be ( hard one this). Very often by nature we panic when the time comes – wishing to help as much as possible to the end- never thinking that nothing more can be done, especially if it has been a long fight and many battles won.  A hard place to arrive at in the Carers mind but so incredibly important and must be found. The time to know when it is ok to stop.

 And so yes, sorrow although so hard is better than fear. For fear is a dreadful journey, I can attest to that.

23rd Jan 2011 – 2months since Hamada died.

Although missing my lovely man so very much I feel somehow in a calmer place than the last few weeks.  Nothing is easy when someone  so precious to you is no longer there, everyday is an uphill climb; everyday a struggle to find yourself again. I have felt like hibernating which suited the weather that we have been having  but knowing that I cannot do that forever. I have starting with a little walking and have been trying to plan some small projects to help  me  to reshape my life and try to look to the future. All  little steps take tremendous mental energy, for all of us bereaved these little advances come at different times it seems. I find my tears still arrive at the least expected moment but I welcome them now as a sacred act of remembrance. I have rarely cried in my life so this is something quite new to me but I know it fosters healing, giving me some understanding that love is such a spiritual bond that death really does not sever.

It is a purely selfish need to want Hamada back with me once more, I  feel that my loss has drained all direction to my life, all  joy and meaning. I desire more than anything to see him once more particularly to hear his voice.  Still the hollow feeling I carry around is now something I value as a connection to my love one.

At last I managed to settled down to read again all the wonderful letters and cards of condolence that although I had read before when they arrived in huge bundles but then being  so distraught, I felt they all deserved another quiet read through. It was wonderful to read again the heartfelt messages of love and and wonderful snippets of  all the different memories of our dear Hamada, written by those who knew him and some from those who did not, written from all various aspects. Most using the words “Such A Gentleman” and  “His Smile”This seemed to be a way of  peacefully celebrating his life again sharing the memories of others as I read their words of love.

It is early days yet for me without my lover, my mentor and my best friend but I think I could say that I have some small seeds of hope now that I will become strong once again and that  my days do now seem  a little more peaceful. I wish all those who are bereaved, peace and with much hope that they too can find  the solace they need.

As Hamada approaches three years since his Stem Cell Transplant which undoubtedly saved his life, we are eternally grateful for the extra years he has obtained from this procedure. So many of us debate about which way treatment for Multiple Myeloma should evolve. What drugs to start as front line treatment? what choices of drugs to continue with, in an effort to help and support. Even with the risks that most carry, for the many problems that for nearly all MM patients, do arrive at some time or another.

Should it be the smallest amount possible? Should you be trying to support and protect with many of these not always proven drugs as Hamada has done and continues to do, or should you go it alone?

Then what about the problems that many of these drugs can bring to someone who is now so vulnerable. What is the right course of action to take? Don’t we all ask this question at the beginning of treatment. It seems there is such a fine line to balance the needs of these drugs and the damage that some may do. It is indeed a complex issue and one which must be constantly monitored by the specialists and also through the watchful eyes of the caregiver. How important to note these sometimes subtle changes in a patient, to try to assist your consultant with good clear voicing and so one day all knowledge gained, will go forward to finding a cure for this most complex and difficult of diseases.

Ideas have changed even in the four+years that we have been on this journey. We have listened and read of new transplant procedures coming to the fore in parts of America, where they are now very hopeful and talk of a cure. Still, looking back on the past four years of treatment for Hamada, there was really no choice but to proceed to SCT as quickly as possible. His kidneys were failing, he had succumbed to two bouts of pneumonia, one so severe that his body was shutting down and we knew this was really his only chance to gain extra time. Hamada’s spine was already damaged and he was in agonising pain which thank goodness was helped with radiation. As soon as he recovered from this, he fought hard to reduced the Para Protein as quickly as possible and to get to start his ‘new life’.

I have read so much about MM over this past four years and four months, learning as much as any lay person can grasp from many different areas and from the voices of many other sufferers worldwide. I have been grateful for all the knowledge gained from good “list serves” such as ACOR and from fellow sufferers of MM and carers alike.Their blogs have given me a good insight into how MM affects/unfolds in so many very different ways for each patient. For sure, no one with MM is the same, treatments will be different for all. Some do better than others as one type of chemotherapy seems to work for one person but not for another. Many appear to remain in remission or continue with very low PP for many years. How different we all are.

I am a poet not a medical person, so it has been the biggest learning curve of my life. Still my thoughts right at the beginning of this journey and also now, were that if I could record and write just the way our personal journey unfolded, using my words in the form I know of poetry. Just telling of my feelings of these past years may help other carers to know of the fears, sadness, the coming to terms with, and all that a Carer feels, that invade thoughts daily in an effort to try to help loved ones. Perhaps this blog may help others who are just starting their journey along the same path, for others it will not, unique as we all are.

For carers who read my simple poems will know, that each tells a story of that particular time in this journey, just as the changing seasons tell us what is happening daily. To convey my feelings in this fashion, also helps me to remember, just how I felt at the dates show on each poem.

Perhaps for some this is a strange form to write a diary of events, but MM is a complex illness as we all are and it is perfect for me, thus enabling me to remember every minute of it all and to free the emotions that often fill this time.

Hamada is continuing well I feel with Revlimid, now on his second course, not having any side effects that he cannot manage. Of course he is more than weary, managing his maintenance drugs daily and the dreaded 40mg of Dex weekly along with Revlimid, always grateful for these past extra three years, which many times prior to the SCT we never thought would be possible. I am aware of course that this is not always the way to proceed and for some if they are otherwise well and not with compromised kidneys or bone lesions, will not choose SCT until all other avenues have been exhausted.

There is no right or wrong way that I can see, only that each person should be treated in their own unique way, as symptoms present themselves and by good valuation of bloods and careful monitoring of precious bones, not from some ‘set out’ protocol. Still what do I really know? only that dear Hamada is still alive after a very poor prognosis and doing dare I say ‘fairly well’. 

Stay well all who read this post and continue to make good choices as I continue to record this journey in ‘poems of love’

All Rights Reserved Sept 2010