KŌPIKO AOTEAROA

In February 2018, I had a number of infections which wouldn’t come right without antibiotics and I found I couldn’t get fit.  The slightest exertion, particularly uphill, would have me short of breath.  My partner, Deborah Hart, insisted that I stop ignoring it (in the hope that it would come right), and go to the doctor.

I did.  Two days later, my cellphone rang at 7.30 in the morning as I was leaving for work.  My doctor.  Whose doctor rings a patient at this time of day?

“Mate, you’re very unwell.  You’ve got acute myeloid leukaemia.  Clear your calendar for the year, pack a bag and report to the Motutapu Ward at Auckland Hospital.  They’re expecting you.”

And, so began a year of any number of invasive procedures which could only be approached with resignation and a sense of humour.  There’s no hiding from the fact that I was terribly sick for much of that year.  I was lucky.  I had a wonderful team of doctors, nurses and supporters.  I responded well to the treatment, and have been clear since the first round of a mysterious and toxic concoction called FlagIda infused into my veins the day after my admission.

Leukaemia is a condition where your bone marrow produces “blast” cells rather than proper white blood cells.  You then increasingly become unable to fight infection, and your blood’s ability to circulate oxygen through your body is reduced.  The treatment, in my case, involved wiping out the malfunctioning bone marrow in the hope of re-populating my sternum and pelvis (where blood cells are produced) with properly functioning marrow.

In my case, four courses of chemo was effective, however there were concerns of relapse for which the ideal treatment was a bone marrow transplant.

When people give blood, they may agree to be put onto a stem cell donor database.  For your average pākehā New Zealander, the database is huge, with many millions of Germans being the most generous and probable matching donors for your average pākehā.  For Māori and Pāsifika, the options are not that great, as the database is much smaller.  I was lucky as a kind man in Christchurch, who I don’t know, was found to be a match, and he agreed to donate his stem cells.

The transplant was relatively anti-climactic, with a 45 minute drip, followed by three or so weeks of deteriorating health, complete with all food and fluids being infused through a Pick line into my arm.

While my recovery was “extraordinary” according to my transplant specialist, I put it down to exemplary care from nursing staff and my partner Deborah, following medical advice (and not googling), taking all my tablets and getting out of bed every day (no matter how I felt), showering, shaving, putting on clean clothes and walking around the ward when I could.  And good luck, a resigned sense of humour and perhaps good genes.

In the midst of all that, Leukaemia and Blood Cancer NZ was providing support where needed.  They do a great job.  And I am terribly grateful.  It’s time to give back, hence my fundraising ride.

If you wish to support this adventure,  and the Leukaemia and Blood Cancer Group, its easy.  Just go to the fundraising page,  here.