Happy OTHER birthday, Donna!

Donna’s stem cell transplant has been completed — now the waiting begins. Here’s how it all went down.

“Happy birthday, Donna!”

In recent years, my sister had begun to resent those three words strung together. It meant the passing of more time on this earth. It meant she was another 365 days older. It meant a few more body aches and — perish the thought — perhaps another gray hair or two.

So you might think that Donna would be in a nasty mood on Thursday afternoon. It seemed like EVERYONE was sharing that greeting in Room 762 of Shadyside Hospital.

It was scrawled with marker on a whiteboard that hangs on Donna’s wall.

It was uttered by each of the nurses who checked on her.

And that message even appeared on a balloon given to her by the members of the medical team.

“Happy birthday, Donna!”

Doesn’t matter that Catherine Alduk Kolodziej gave birth to Donna on November 7. Let it be known that her birthday from here on out is August 31.

And at 5:30 p.m., those three words that used to bring on angst had now produced a huge smile on her face.

That’s because a three-word procedure completed just moments earlier — “stem cell transplant” — would offer her one of the most beautiful three-word phrases in the English language: “A second chance.”

And here’s how it went down.

Tim’s Turn

Those driving to Pittsburgh these days — especially on Route 376 — know it’s not for the faint of heart. Orange construction barrels are everywhere. The normal one-hour trip took nearly two on this foggy morning.

And all the bumps, false starts, quick turns and sudden stops did nothing for my back — which was killing me.

I didn’t want to tell Donna this, but late last week I had thrown out my back during a basketball coaching session. If that weren’t bad enough, I couldn’t take anything to bring down the inflammation because I was getting injections of Neupogen, a drug that was being used to increase the number of stem cells in my system.

So I dealt with the pain, which became excruciating every time I drove, lay in bed, or sat down for long periods of time. So after a two-hour drive, I was now preparing to lie on my back for the next six hours. So I kept telling myself what I tell all my young players before every practice or game — “play present.” Just stay in the moment and don’t focus on Hour 4 when it’s only Hour 1.

That, and maybe ask the nurses for some powerful pain killers to help.

I did both.

Though I zoned in and out for much of the process, it was fascinating from what I can recall. As my stem cells were being harvested from one arm and collected by a machine, my red blood cells were being returned to my body in the other arm.

My wife Sally was sitting by the bed and talking with Elisa Malek, who was coordinating our stem cell transplant.

“I’m trying to figure out what Tim’s stem cells look like,” Sally said told Elisa.

My nurse, Judy, turned to Sally and answered.

“They look like tomato soup made with milk.”

“That’s it,” Sally countered. “That’s exactly what they look like.”

During the hours-long procedure, my stem cells were dropping into an IV bag. Afterward, they were placed in a cooler, then taken to a nearby lab to be counted. Donna needed 5 million of my cells for her transplant. Rumor has it that I gave her more than 8 million.

Yep, that’s how I roll.

What was left over will be saved, along with my plasma, for potential use down the line.

It was 2:30 p.m., and my portion of the transplant was completed. It was now time to hand the baton to Donna and let her run with it.

Donna’s Turn

Before Thursday’s stem cell transplant, Donna was forced to endure another six days of intense chemotherapy. The mission was to sweep out the cells from her body to welcome mine. It wasn’t pretty, and the transplant would be a welcome respite for her.

Just a few more minutes. At least that’s what we hoped.

After one more quick blood test for me, Sally and I walked across the Shea Bridge from the Hillman Cancer Center to Shadyside Hospital to be with Donna for her procedure.

Yet at this point, we still weren’t sure if it was going down. We were still awaiting the results of my stem cell count, and there was a possibility I would need to return the next morning for more cells to be harvested.

Donna’s husband, Michael, was already in the room. So was a young nurse named Kelsey, who would be handling Donna’s transplant. 

I glanced down at my phone to check the time and noticed I had missed a call from Elisa. So I quickly listened to her voice message. She said they had harvested enough stem cells and Donna’s transplant could begin shortly.

I told Donna the good news and she gave me a huge hi-five and then a hug.

“Thank you,” she said through tears. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Thank YOU,” I responded. “Thank you for allowing me to play a small role in your special day.”

Moments later a nurse named Cassie would enter with the cooler housing the stem cells.

She handed the bag to Kelsey, who hooked it to a tube. The tube was connected to a port that was surgically inserted into Donna’s chest. Cassie then placed the cooler on a shelf near the door.

Seconds later another nurse walked through the door, knocking the cooler off the shelf.

It was like time stopped, then everything appeared to be in slow motion as the cooler fell to the floor.

Noooooooo!!!!!!

Would the cells be splattered everywhere? Would I have to do the entire transplant again?

There was stunned silence. Then intense worry. Then belly laughter throughout the room.

“It’s empty!” someone shouted.

“I already gave the cells to Kelsey,” Cassie reminded us. “They’re fine.”

Whew! So were we.

The light-hearted moment took away some of the edge of what was about to transpire.

Before the procedure started, I asked everyone if we could pray.

I thanked God for Donna. I thanked God for her wonderful medical team. I thanked God for her family. I thanked God for the opportunity to be a part of something so special. And I thanked God in advance for the healing he was about to deliver.

I heard more than a few sniffles as I spoke, and a few in the room were wiping their eyes as we finished.

“I’ve been doing this for more than four years now,” Kelsey said. “And that was the first time we prayed. That was a pretty cool moment.”

Donna had changed from a black T-shirt to a James Conner Steelers jersey for the procedure. Conner is a rookie running back for the black and gold who beat lymphoma while he played at the University of Pittsburgh. He has become Donna's inspiration.

The clock read 5:09 when Kelsey started the transplant.

At 5:26, it was finished.

Cassie excused herself first, then by 6:15 we all began leaving Donna so she could rest.

The first leg of the relay race had been completed. Now comes the waiting game. Over the next two weeks, doctors will monitor Donna’s acceptance of my stem cells. If all goes well, Donna will have my immune system, my DNA, and her O-negative blood will morph into my A-positive. The hope is that my healthy immune system can fend off any cancers trying to invade her body again.

In the most simple of terms, Donna is getting a second chance.

Happy birthday, sister.

I bet you never thought you would be so happy to hear me say that.

Looking Back

Maybe I was still a bit loopy from the procedure. Maybe I was too focused on completing my end of the deal. Maybe I was too caught up in all the different events of the day.

But the gravity of the situation really didn’t hit me until this morning, when I woke up early for my usual coffee and Bible study. But as I prepared to read, I put down my coffee and sat quietly.

Then I began weeping. Uncontrollably.

Here’s what the passage in front of me said …

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”

Then a few minutes later I opened a text from Elisa:

“You have contributed love and hope, which are more powerful than you know,” she wrote. “Thank you for all you have done — now take at least a day to rest and reflect on the gift that you have given.”

It’s strange, but I’ve been reflecting throughout the day, and even as I type these words, I still don’t feel at all like a giver.

I just feel extremely blessed.