🌀Mood: Focused, Brave, Grounded, Curious

After everything it took to get here, I wanted just one more night in my own bed. So instead of heading to Seattle Wednesday night, I woke up at 4:00 a.m. Thursday morning, packed the last of my things, and made the early drive north to Pete Gross before traffic.

When I pulled into my assigned parking spot, I discovered (of course) that the keys they’d given me didn’t work to get into the building from the garage. So I had to get creative — again — moving my boxes through other entry points just to get into my unit. And as I slowly opened the door, I braced myself… still not entirely sure if someone else had been moved in.

But the apartment was empty. Mine.

I set up my work computer and worked for a few hours before heading out for my first round of testing at Fred Hutch.

Why This Testing Phase Matters

The first two weeks here are full of back-to-back tests — a full work-up of your body to make sure:

1 – There are no hidden complications they haven’t caught yet

2 – Your organs are healthy enough to handle the intense chemotherapy before transplant

They don’t skip anything. And while it’s overwhelming, it’s also comforting to know how thorough they are.

Day 1 – Twelve Vials, A Full History, and the Rose Team

My first stop: the lab.

I’ve been getting blood drawn every Friday for the last six months, but never more than four vials. So when they called my name and I saw the tubes lined up, I literally had the nurse count them out loud: twelve vials.

Just when I thought I was done, I was sent upstairs to meet my care team… only to be told I needed to go back down to the lab for a redraw. One more vial. I laughed and told them I wasn’t sure I had anything left to give.

Eventually, I made it back upstairs and was introduced to the Rose Team — which felt comforting in a way. It reminded me of Pasadena, where we moved from, and the Rose Bowl, the Rose Parade… something familiar in a place that’s so new.

I also met my scheduler, Natalie — which happens to be my sister’s name — another small comfort.

Then I was taken into a room for an in-depth intake with my physician assistant. We talked for nearly two hours. She wanted to know everything — from the five months of back pain before diagnosis to my most recent chemo session at the clinic. We reviewed every medication I’ve been on, looked at initial lab results, and went through my complete treatment history.

After that, my doctor came in for a physical exam, and then I met with my nurse to go over the transplant process, emergency protocols, and how to handle anything that might come up — especially because once the transplant starts, I won’t have an immune system and can’t go to the ER.

It was a long day, but it felt organized. Everyone was kind, confident, and clear. Most of my labs looked good. Of course, with Myeloma, there were some expected abnormalities — but they’re using all of this to create a baseline.

And the sun was out, so I was able to walk the 10 minutes back to my apartment.

Day 2 – A Good Heart, A Hard Conversation

Friday was heart testing day. I started with a chest X-ray, followed by an EKG. The machines print the results immediately so a doctor can review them on the spot while you’re still hooked up, just in case they need more images.

Thankfully, my heart looked great.

I knew it would — I’ve never had heart issues — but hearing it out loud gave me reassurance. Especially because my mom had significant heart complications for much of her life. In that moment, I felt grateful for my body.

After the tests, I met again with my nurse and with my attending physician, Dr. Portuguese. The meeting was long — 2 to 3 hours. We covered my history, reviewed the lab work, and talked in detail about the transplant procedure and what life will look like afterward.

Because of my high-risk status and the aggressive nature of my cancer, he explained that I’ll need to go on maintenance drugs every other week after transplant. That hit me hard — I had originally been told it would be once per month.

We also discussed the months after I go home. He said ideally, I’d work remotely for 6 months post-transplant. I told him that wouldn’t work well for me or for my company, so we agreed on at least one month to start.

Another surprise: I won’t be revaccinated until a full year after transplant.

He explained it like this: your immune system is like an encyclopedia. When something invades the body, your system flips through its volumes to find out how to fight. But high-dose chemo deletes the encyclopedia. You have to give your body time to start rebuilding its pages before you can safely introduce vaccines again.

It all makes sense. It’s just… a lot to process.

Once again, the weather cooperated, and I walked back to my apartment in the sunshine — holding a thick manual about the transplant process in one hand and a lot of new information in the other.

Looking Ahead – Day 3: Bone Marrow Biopsy

On Monday, I’ll undergo a bone marrow biopsy — one of the most important tests for someone with Multiple Myeloma. It’s essentially a quality control check of your blood-making factory.

When I was diagnosed, 80% of my plasma cells were cancerous. After six months of treatment, they want to see how far we’ve come.

For the stem cell transplant to be most effective, the number needs to be 10% or less. They’ll take a liquid sample (which can feel like a tug), and a small core of bone marrow. Luckily, I’ll be sedated for this one.

I’ll share more after the biopsy. But for now, I’m settling into this next phase with a lot of information, a little more peace, and a care team that really seems to get it.