TRANSPLANT TWILIGHT ZONE PART II

Seattle,WA Beautiful sunny day, 50 degrees. Spring is coming!

Prayer is powerful. I know literally hundreds of you are praying for us and it makes all the difference. We have had a dramatic positive turn during the week. The weekend was very difficult. I ended up losing another 5 lbs in 4 days until the new treatments we are taking began to kick in the first of the week. My appetite began to emerge early in the week and the digestive system began to stabilize. During our consultations with our Medical Teams today, they commented on just how severe a case of Graft VS Host we have been dealing with, combined with the CMV infection. They are amazed at the rate of improvement we have shown in just less than a week of Prednizone and Ganzciclovir. They hope to start me on a rapid reduction in the amount of Prednizone I am taking beginning next week. There are just too many negative side effects at the high dosage I am taking. I will probably stay on the Ganzciclovir for  three weeks to give me the best chance at getting things stabilized long term.

The Twilight Zone Stem Cell Saga continues unabated. One of our Doctors today asked if I was feeling any different kinds of emotions. I wasn't certain what he was leading up to until he told us that they had the results back from our 28 day post-transplant blood evaluations. Mini-Hanna's Stem Cells now account for 100% of my entire white blood cell population. They also are taking over all T-Cell production, accounting for 87% of that population. Within days, I will have a complete female blood count make up, T-Cell identity and the creation of a 36 year old's immune system to protect my 60 year old body. My daughter, Hanna, reminded me of a day when she was 4-5 years old when we had a near life and death experience with her life. We lived on Lambert Road near the Big Y Shopping Center. Cars drove too fast down our narrow street and it was a real risk to children and pets. Our mailbox was across the street from our house and when Hanna and Amos saw the mailman go by, they wanted to run across the street to get the mail. On this certain day, Hanna had just seen the mailman go by and I saw a car speeding up the street far too fast to be able to stop for a small child emerging from between two parked cars. I simply shouted: "Hanna, Stop Now!" Being unaccustomed to having me address her in that tone of voice, she immediately stopped, burst into tears and probably saved her life. There are two things parents and parents alone are ultimately responsible for in child raising. They must teach their children to respect and obey legitimate authority and they must command instant obedience from them in life threatening situations. By the grace of God, Hanna knew that we loved her so much that we wouldn't speak to her in such a manner unless it was absolutely necessary.

Apparently, her stem cells have the same innate knowledge and when we have had to communicate forcefully with powerful drug treatments this week, they have stopped dead in their tracks and we may all live for a better day. It is going to take a minimum of a year for Mini-Hanna to create anything near a full blown immune system, but it not only is possible, but looking more probable every day. Much of it will be up to me. I have to take the initiative to force myself to eat the right things. Exercise in appropriate manners. Avoid exposure to infectious agents and compromising health conditions. Get enough sleep and rest to allow my body to restore its strength. In short, do all the things God calls us to do to honor our bodies which are the Temple of the Holy Spirit. For me it is no longer an option, it is life and death. I can go back to a fairly undisciplined physical lifestyle and hope that all this treatment and expense will just magically cure my cancer and make my life perfect. That is probably unlikely, even irresponsible. God calls us to master our bodies into submission in order to be physically fit to fulfill His divine call in our lives. I would covet your prayers for that self-control and wisdom in order to honor God throughout this whole process. In addition to finding out how life is like with both male and female essential organs, I am looking forward to having the Holy Spirit take greater control of my heart, mind and Spirit as we seek to serve God together.  Robin


The Netherlands, June-July, 1972

Standing in the waiting area, looking through the glass partitions, we knew we were surrounded by Dutch family because they kept calling out Kriss' parents names, Harry Kwak, Anna Kwak. They were accompanied by some cousins, Arie VanDerHoeven and his wife Delpha and their two sons. It was quite a scene and none of the Dutch relatives knew who we were, but we sure knew they were family. Kriss' family is 100% pure unadulterated Dutch purebreds. They come by their heritage from all four sides of their family and it is large and historic. They can trace the polders, or farms their ancestors tilled with maps back to the 16th century. They were laboring people, not landholders or aristocrats. Therefore they inculcated into their children down through the generations the deepest expressions of Dutch culture: duty to nation above personal success, sacrifice for others at risk of personal loss, social stability and security above private gain. When they came to America by the hundreds, they kept many of these ideals, but began to add the inevitable American values of rugged individualism and personal pursuit of wealth and fame. Many of these families are closer to one another living 6,000 miles apart than their cousins who live in America, 60 miles apart. I would have to say that our four children personally know and relate with their Dutch cousins in Holland more fully than with any of their American cousins in my family or Kriss'. They seem to share a great deal of a common cultural heritage and have had the privilege of spending a great deal of time together on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. We owe a great debt to our Dutch family for giving our children such a tremendous cultural and spiritual heritage.

Our Dutch Vacation was a roller coaster of experiences. We met more relatives than you could imagine and were offered more coffee and sweets than you could ever eat. We slept in ancient houses that were coveted by museums for tiles and thatched roofs, along with ultra modern homes, the envy of anyone. Fortunately, they were doing summer haying and I got to go out into the fields and do some manual labor. They didn't work quite like farmers worked in America. On hot days, Heineken Beer late every morning and afternoon to quench your thirst. Supper was mostly potatoes and hash with lots of fresh strawberries and cream for dessert. People who didn't work the farms, worked in factories or for the civil service. Everyone worked. The only people folks considered unemployed were "domine" or ministers. They were effectively governmental employees who were considered overpaid and parasites on society. Everyone paid a tithe of their income to support the "church", whether they were believers or attenders or not. When one cousin found out that I intended to attend theological seminary and become a "domine", he threw a fit and threatened to throw me out of his house, having vowed to never allow a "domine" inside his dwelling as long as he was still alive and kicking. Cooler heads prevailed, however, and I was given a dispensation that allowed me to stay a couple of hours. After all, I had not yet attended Seminary and might come to my senses and do something honorable like farming. After a couple of weeks of hanging around Holland, Kriss and I had to get back to France and pick up our belongings we had left there. Kriss' father left his native homeland kicking and pouting, but we got headed south and enjoyed some great places on our southern tour.