Odd, sometimes, how things work out for the best...even when you're convinced they won't. I've made no secret of my earlier disappointment at being disqualified from a Bexxar clinical trial--and the various hoops and detours that process took me through.

I was crushed, to be brutally honest.

Since then, I've been carefully examining and considering a pretty amazing clinical trial involving a vaccine. To me, really, it's the most exciting clinical trial for my kind of cancer--vaccines are fascinating, and hold great promise.

Unfortunately, as much as I've loved the idea of the vaccine, I just haven't been able to get Bexxar--radioimmunotherapy--out of my mind. Perhaps because I was so close to it, then disqualified. You know, you don't really, really want something until you're told you can't have it. That's a bit of it, anyway. But also, I truly believe it's a treatment that's well-matched for my case.

So even as I discussed going forward with the vaccine trial with my local oncologist a few weeks ago, that niggling voice in the back of my mind wouldn't shut up. Finally, I said, "Do you think there's any chance at all Blue Cross & Blue Shield of Montana will approve radioimmunotherapy as a first-line treatment for me?"

My oncologist's response? "Doesn't hurt to ask. Let's get Felicia involved."

Felicia, as it turns out, is the financial services representative for my cancer center. She works with insurance companies and patients to get treatments pre-approved and such. Well, heck yes, I thought. Let's get Felicia involved.

An hour after the conversation with my oncologist, Felicia calls me. "I've spoken to Blue Cross and Blue Shield, and they have no red flags on radioimmunotherapy. They'd just like to preauthorize it, they way they would with any major medical procedure."

"No red flags?" I ask.

"No red flags."

"That's surprising, because--"

"Because this is your first treatment?"

"Well, yeah." Also because it's me, and it feels like I've had all the luck of Charlie Brown throughout this whole treatment process. But there's no need to say that to Felicia; she's going to bat for me. Best to think she's batting for a winning team.

"Well, then," I say. "Let's see if we can get preauthorization."

The next week, Felicia calls to tell me the treatment's been preauthorized. That means I can get Bexxar--the treatment I signed up to receive at a clinical trial in Nebraska. That also means I can do it right here at home in Montana, without traveling to Nebraska for the treatment, six followup visits in the first year, and annual followup visits for five years after that.

I realize, despite all my whining and complaining, that things have indeed just worked out for the better for me. Sure, I've heard and said the old platitude about God closing one door only to open a better one. I've even believed it, and experienced it before.

But, being the fallible creation I am, I forget these things. I know how to say them so easily, but don't always live them.

And yet, God makes it happen anyway. Isn't that an amazing story? I think it is.

Perhaps you don't view the whole process in the same light I do. Maybe you don't see any divine intervention in all of it. Call it luck or good fortune, then. I'm no less thankful for the luck or good fortune.

And so, I'm getting scheduled for radioimmunotherapy--specifically, Bexxar--one of the first two weeks of September. In a nutshell, this consists of an IV infusion of antibodies on day one of treatment, followed by a couple of imaging scans on days two through seven. On day eight, I get another infusion of antibodies. But this time, the antibodies have a radioactive particle attached to them. In basic terms, it's a seek-and-destroy mission: the antibodies specifically search and and attach to a protein expression on the surface of lymphoma cells, then deliver a radioactive charge, destroying the cell. Results for first-line treatment using this procedure (in clinical trials) have shown amazing promise: in one Bexxar study, 75% of people achieved a complete molecular remission after the treatment. Eight years later, most of the people who achieved molecular remission are still in that first remission.

So.

So, now faith comes into the equation again. As I said before, I have to trust this is the best treatment for me, because this is what I felt led to--drawn to--time and again. If you're the praying type, please do pray this treatment results in a molecular remission for me. If you're not the praying type, cross your fingers, think good thoughts, or whatever works. It's all most welcome.

And please, from now on: I shall be known as Bexxar Boy.