Day 28, Monday, February 26th, 2013

Today, we met with Dr. Andrei Shustov, a specialist in lymphomas, particularly T-cell lymphomas, like I've got. He, as I expected, confirmed Dr. Hull's mycosis fungoides diagnosis, and we got down to the brassiest of tacks. The short, short version is that he'd consulted with many other T-cell specialists around the world, and had made up his mind. We had another in the series of conversations I've been having with doctors about rates of potential side effects, relapse, and mortality. None of it was new to me, and none of it was surprising, but that is never, ever, a fun conversation. I am young, and therefore should have very little in the way of any of these things, particularly death (I appreciate having extra little death). Also, Dr. Shustov didn't really see the point of doing a tandem transplant, and was going to recommend that I get a mini allo by itself(with just a little extra radiation of my throat, for just-in-casery).

My case is going to be discussed one last time by the SCCA's big group of doctors (think medical rugby scrum, and you'll be close), and then I am, finally, getting my treatment plan. The upshot of this recommendation is that it'll be a few weeks before anything can really happen, and if this does turn out to be the modus operandi, I might be able to go home to Saskatoon for a while. We'll see what happens. I expect there to be heated words at this doctor scrum, as different specialists defend their opinions. Dance, puppets, dance! Wait, I think I have that backwards.

The afternoon was fairly standard, by comparison. Lunch, games with Ash, internet. In the evening, however, things perked up a bit - Dad flew in for a visit! He's staying here until Friday, and he even got himself a room at the SCCA House, so he and Mom can have private time. I get blessed solitude, and they get LA LA LA LA LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU LA LA LA LA LA.

It was after nine by the time the shuttle dropped him off from the airport and almost ten when we went out for a snack, so we potato'd around the corner to Paddy Coyne's Irish Pub for a bit.

Two cannibals are eating a clown; one turns to the other and says, "Does this taste funny to you?"