Today was yet another trip to the Mother Ship. Another City of Hope day filled with Lab Work, a follow-up with my Care Team and my Hematologist/Oncologist, an EKG, and an Echocardiogram.
I say normal, but there isn’t really anything normal about any of it. Not, really. And, especially, not now! It’s only normal in the respect it’s necessary. An integral part of the one-year anniversary of my transplant.
In all honesty, I don’t mind going. In fact, I look forward to it. The City of Hope is an island of calm in a stormy and rather unpredictable world. Calm even in the middle of the COVID-19 crisis. There are other reasons I look forward to seeing my Team, not the least of which is the almost constant improvement I’ve experienced over the past year. My numbers are good. My bone marrow and DNA are 100% donor. The two mutations responsible for my Primary Myelofibrosis are nowhere to be found. My hemoglobin, just below normal. And, almost all the other numbers are mid-range. (It could be that my Hem/Onc Doc let me know he was reading Misfire and really enjoying it!)
City of Heroes
I enjoy time spent inside the Mother Ship. My Care Team has become a surrogate family over the years. I’ve gotten to know and appreciate them in good times and bad: under pressure, and just kicking back. I feel secure there. Even in the midst of the pandemic. There is a sense of calm that can be felt throughout the campus.
The easy answer is that it is the result of policies and procedures, leadership, management, and culture. I can’t argue. I would just add that one of the most powerful reasons for that calm is that the City of Hope is a City of Heroes and heroes know how to keep it together under the most trying and stressful conditions.calmcare teamCity of Heroescity of hopeHeroesimmunizations