It’s been one week since we said goodbye to Ramón, and it’s been more than 14 weeks since I said farewell to the version of Ramón I’d known since December 2011. In many ways, I’ve been grieving since April, but the sorrow has taken a different shape now, knowing that the possibility of recovery no longer remains. At times, this materializes as feelings of relief, since the clarity for which I’d longed has arrived and is indisputable. However, other times I miss the ambiguity
Many of you have followed our story and its constant ups and downs, particularly since Ramón’s chemo/radiation/transplant complication-induced cardiac arrest on April 19, 2020. Though it felt like we’d finally settled into an “up” after a tumultuous three months, Ramón died yesterday at 10:52 a.m. Things were going well [enough] until suddenly they weren’t. A respiratory event yesterday morning led to yet another cardiac episode and, though we hoped to sustain Ramón’s life lo
Holy Day +100 since Ramón’s transplant! Exactly 100 days ago, on April 10, Ramón received his stem cell transplant. From 11:25 a.m. to 12:10 p.m. ET, we quietly watched YuSun’s stem cells slowly assume residence in Ramón’s body, ready to evict his leukemia once and for all. I’d heard about the coveted Day +100, and now we’re here. We have taken some major detours, but we made it! When a transplant recipient hits Day +100, the window of greatest risk closes, and the donor stem
Today is day +93 since transplant, and yesterday was Ramón’s 100th consecutive day in the hospital. Though each individual day has felt exhaustively long, the days have merged together in a way that seems like no time has passed. Despite all the twists and turns that led us here, it was a good day. Some days feel like setbacks, and I find myself actively inventorying what’s wrong with this situation. However, day 100 was the best day I’ve had in quite a while; instead of focu
“I’m not going to wear my ring, okay?” I remember Ramón asking that as we did one last sweep of the house before departing for the hospital on April 3. Now, 90 days later, Ramón’s left hand remains ringless; instead he’s wearing a pulse oximeter. Above his wrist, there’s a peripheral IV. Above that, there’s a PICC line that’s being removed today. On a whim one afternoon in May 2015, Ramón asked if I wanted to go ring shopping. We had this conversation often, and I finally agr
My name is Drew Dotson, and my life has been anything but perfect, yet it's still perfectly beautiful. After growing up with a genetic disease, cystic fibrosis, I was blessed to meet an amazing man who loved me without bounds. Then he died.