Disneyland Dad

Dear Friends, Family, and Fans of Judd,

This is Frankie, back in the saddle at the Huntsman Cancer Institute. It's either been seconds or a lifetime since I was last out here--time both flew and blew--but things haven't really changed all that much. The staff here at the Huntsman is still gifted and professional, Judd is still the koopa-troopa we all know and love, and the Salt Lake Valley is still gorgeous. However, I feel a little bit like a Disneyland Dad. The couple of days before I arrived were pretty tough for Judd and the caretakers that were here with him (nothing too dangerous, just a lot of nausea, anxiety, and discomfort). But when I left, Judd was all smiles. And now that I'm back, Judd's on the up and up. Although my ego would like me to believe it's just my winning personality, I have to admit that in the end I just have really good timing... or really bad timing, depending on your point-of-view. But enough about me, onto the boy this site is named after.

The good news is that the doctors are starting to throw around a fancy little word that brings both grins and nerves to all of us who've been here taking care of Judd: "out-patient." The fact is that Judd's body is taking care of business in very real and impressive ways. Blood cell counts are the hard numbers that the doctors look for in order to gauge when a patient is ready to leave. Judd's numbers suggest immediate first class passage. Over the next few days Judd and his team will be working out the details of the next few weeks of his life. Stay tuned for an updated address and pictures of a new HGTV-inspired room.

The only other tidbit I feel obliged to mention is the festive luau Judd's friends and family organized for him last night at the hospital. Tom and Laurie (Judd's godparents) catered a meal none of us will soon forget: chicken in a cherry/sherry marinade, wild rice with onions, corn salsa, French bread, and gooey chocolate brownies that made their way from the dinner table into my last night's dreams. The meal was topped off by Cokes in "special" plastic cups complete with little umbrellas. For decor, we had 36 multicolored lais (all of which Judd's niece Ashley confiscated to complement her outfit), a coconut-rendered ape-woman sculpture in a grass skirt, and two cardboard cut-outs of well-bronzed, well-built, dancing Hawaiian men whom James and I thought looked rather like an interracial (Nephite-Lamanite) couple. Judd was up, active, and the center of the party. And boy did he eat!

Cheers,
Frankie

Peaceful Evening

It's 9:50 Tuesday night. There is a distinct feeling of well earned peace in the room. About an hour ago, I found myself sitting across a stone patio table from my brother Judd, watching the light slowly fade from the Wasatch Mountains behind him. Included in our numbers were our father, our sister Erin, our brother Skip and two adopted Hardy siblings, Jesicah Rolapp and Annika Beaulieu. Judd was telling us that he thinks he has found the first character of his next play. Her name is Amy and she is one of Judd's attending nurses. A very bubbly, cute, young blonde attending nurse, who when she entered Judd's room for the first time, wrote her name on the board, turned and said, "Hi. My name's Amy. It means friend." Yup, he was funny then and by George, he's funny now.

Judd is doing well. The chemo side effects have begun to drop in intensity and he has slowly started to gain, along with his appetite, his strength back. He is now fast asleep and the nostalgic, heavy breathing I had the incredible opportunity to live with for the past three months is floating through the air.

Keep the thoughts and prayers coming. And food.

Love,
James

Happy Pioneer Day!

Good afternoon friends and family,

For those of you who are in Utah I hope you are enjoying a happy "Pioneer Day." July 24th is a statewide holiday in Utah inspired by the Latter Day Saint immigration to the Salt Lake Valley in 1847. The day is quite festive for Utahns and the evening ends in many massive firework displays. Judd and his hospital entourage will no doubt have the best view in the city. From the window in his room you can see all of the Salt Lake Valley.

The hospital itself has been quiet today which has suited Judd just fine. He is a bit immobile and tends to stay in or close to his bed. He is still experiencing side-effects from the intense chemo treatments he received on Thursday, although he tells us that he is feeling slightly better with each day.

He is visited daily by close family and friends. When Judd isn't up to visitors his fan club has begun to congregate on the beautiful fourth floor terrace which faces the mountain behind the hospital. The big circular rock table we sit around is covered in care packages and food (mostly cookies sent with love from dear friends and family). Someone is constantly being sent to the family kitchen to fetch glasses of "pellet" ice from the water machine. Often you can see a brother or friend taking advantage of the hiking trails the mountain offers. The sound of laughter greets you as you approach the table. It is an interesting way to get to know all of the different people who make up Judd's life. Loving messages from abroad are communicated by someone, stories about cancer and miracles are shared, and exciting plans for the future are explored. Everyone around the table is grateful for the opportunity to be involved in Judd's healing process.

We thank everyone near and far who is involved in this beautiful journey. The smallest act is the largest blessing for Judd. We know that your messages, prayers, contributions, and love are making this experience a journey of miracles.

Thank you deeply,
Erin

Our 1% Cellularity Celebration!!!!!

As I took pictures of my siblings this afternoon during our first "Hardy Party" in years instead of asking them to smile and say "cheese" I asked them to smile and say "yeah for Judd's 1% cellularity." I know it sounds a bit odd and out of context but when I explain to you how exactly 1% cellularity refers to Judd's bone marrow I'm sure all of you will smile and shout "yeah for Judd's 1% cellularity!!!"

Please pardon my lack of medical knowledge as I try to explain Dr. Bill's great news about Judd's bone marrow results. (There really is nothing better in my book than getting good news from a good looking man.) When Judd's bone marrow was first tested his cellularity was extremely high. Cellularity refers to the percentage of leukemia cells in one's bone marrow. After receiving almost 10 days of chemo the doctors had hoped Judd's cellularity would drop. Dr. Bill said that he would have been pleased if Judd's cellularity was at 5%. Dr. Bill was ecstatic that Judd's cellularity was 1%. Basically this means that the cancer cells are almost gone and that Judd's body has done an amazing job throughout the treatments.

Judd spent most of the day mellowed out--attempting to keep his lingering chemo side-effects at bay. When he woke up from a late afternoon nap he had one thing on his mind for dinner--chicken pad Thai. I'll be honest when I say that Judd's Thai food craving suits my belly just fine. It warmed my heart to see Judd smile in delight with his first bite of chicken pad Thai.

Good night,
Erin

My Fear Is My Only Courage, So I've Got To Push On Through...

Its 11:30 on Saturday morning and all is well. There has been a mellow feeling of relaxing recovery circulating through the room. Erin just arrived a few minutes ago and the sleeper has awoken. Judd (who for this blogger's morning's blog will be referred to as: "The Camp Champ") is consulting with our Resident Nurse for the day, Danielle, on some anti-nausea medication. The rest of the Hardy siblings are scheduled to arrive in the next half hour, which will be the first time all six siblings have been together since Christmas 2004. I believe that after we take lunch on the veranda (seriously--there is an amazing patio at the back of the hospital that is bordered by the Wasatch mountains) there is a plan to join hands around "The Camp Champ" in some type of Care Bear stare. I'm secretly hoping to play the part of Cozy Heart Penguin if Skip hasn't already made dibs.

Medically, we have received some very good news over the past two days. Dr. Bill (the front man for Judd's team of doctors, who has been known to quote "The Family Guy", likes Bob Marley and much to Erin and Annika’s disappointment sports a humble wedding band on one of his well defined fingers) informed us today that 1. "The Camp Champ's" Bone Marrow is looking excellent 2. No signs of Leukemia were found from the spinal tap and 3. The results from a cat scan performed last night look great.

Physically, "The Camp Champ" is feeling wiped out from the chemo, spinal tap and biopsy from two days ago. In his own words, "It packs quite a punch." He has had an on and off headache and general back achiness, that Megan has been helping with energy and light massage work. The pain has ranged from mild to medium to high, but nothing that a few Lori tabs can't get under control. The only downside (or upside) from the medication is that "The Camp Champ" has a pretty limited memory of the events of yesterday and has felt pretty lethargic. Also the fact that he went from trekking the dirt roads of Orcas Island to lying in a hospital bed for two weeks has definitely contributed to any feeling of lethargy and/or discomfort. After almost two complete days in bed, he's hoping to get up and walk around a little later on this afternoon.

Emotionally and spiritually, "The Camp Champ" remains in an incredible place. He expressed to me yesterday how grateful and lucky he feels to have such love and support from everyone, especially when there are patients in this hospital going at the whole process alone. So again, thank you all for your thoughts and prayers.

Okay, Megan, Jeremy and the girls have arrived. Zach has arrived. Skip is on his way. I bid you adieu for now.

Ciao,
James

Evening Greetings from Erin

Good evening family and friends, today has been a long day for our Judd but you all should be happy to know that at this moment he is sleeping peacefully. Judd underwent three procedures today. The first at about ten o'clock this morning was a second bone marrow biopsy. Not too difficult for Judd but let's be honest who really wants to get a bone marrow biopsy done at all. Around noon he received two forms of intense chemo via IV. And if that doesn't sound like fun enough he rounded out the afternoon with a spinal tap and chemo admistered intrathecally (through a hole in his spine.) He was able to be a little "drugged" for certain parts of the day which allowed him to get a few relaxing naps in between procedures. He is experiencing some side effects from the chemo but the fantastic staff here at the Huntsman Cancer "sanctuary" has been able to make him comfortable.
I'm not giving you all of the gory details to tug at your heart strings but just to give everyone a realistic view of what our darling Judd is experiencing. He is still smiling and feeling grounded. You won't be surprised to know that throughout the day there was always a classic "Judd" touch-- namely grooving to a little Bob Marley along with his spinal tap, enjoying some fantastic Thai food with his family in the evening, getting kisses from his eight month old neice and falling to sleep with George Winston's "December" playing in the background. His heart was so full of gratitude today and he could feel everyone's love.
Thank you all for you prayers and positive energy.

my thanks

A moment’s rest, a hearty (pun intended) meal, a beautiful sun ascending over the Wasatch Mountains. I’ve been in and out of sleep most of the night. The nurses are ordered to poke and prod me regularly to check my vitals and be sure that my system is handling the chemotherapy well (no sudden, drastic turns for the worse.) I pretend they’re playing a game just outside my door, seeing how close they can bring me to the point of sleep before coming in for another pee sample. Resistance, I’ve been warned, is futile.

My heart is so full of gratitude this morning, gratitude at being rested and strong enough to be able to send a message back in response to the hundreds of messages that have flooded my inbox, as well as Frankie’s, Adam’s and Michelle’s, not to mention my family’s home mailboxes. In the initial response to my condition, there was very, very little time for discussion, input or even much choice in the matter of how to proceed. Action needed to be taken immediately, so the choice was made to begin chemotherapy literally within minutes of hearing the diagnosis. Medications and more tests were decided on, and I lay back in bed to await the first round and, well, stare blankly at the wall. One nurse (Gigi – she says my chakras are well aligned) lingered by my bed long enough to share with me two points. “These machines will work towards a cure for you,” she said. “We’ll all be working towards a cure for as long as it takes. But what these machines can’t do is heal you. That’s your job. That requires your own will, but also marinating yourself in love. So I need to ask a request. Marinate me. Keep it coming. I haven’t had time to respond individually, and as my strength becomes less and less each day with chemo, I don’t know that I will. But know that there is no black hole where most correspondence of this sort seems to disappear to. I’ve gotten each and every note, and they’ve constantly kept me focused on the positive: waking up and greeting the day and eating huge meals (my body’s fighting harder than it ever has, and my weight seems to be dropping rapidly as a result), puttering about and crying with the sunsets and enjoying Tuscan dinners on the facility’s patio with friends, filling my room with your energy and pictures (my room has become the defacto hang-out for nurses and doctors. They’re fascinated by all of you, so you know.)

There continues to be much good news to report each day. Yes, it’s accompanied by fear and anxiety; the two worlds seem to cohabitate my space well together these days. Chemo is a miraculous, devastating ordeal. But here I am in the middle of it, and I’m smiling. So thanks.

The Good News Continues

He's laughing, he's walking, he's stretching, he's showering, the band-aids are coming off... and tonight we had dinner (brought to us by some Packard angels) out on the patio overlooking the most gorgeous Salt Lake sunset I've ever had the opportunity to witness. The news remains excellent. His vitals are as close to normal as they could possibly be. The doctors walk in beaming, rightfully proud of a job that is being well-done.

Judd has asked that tomorrow be a bit of a quiet day. He's going to be receiving the most aggresive chemo drug yet, and it's going to be done through a somewhat elaborate surgical procedure that will require a certain amount of recovery. He'd like to keep his room as quiet as possible during the day, so please plan your visits for sometime next week. If you'd like to contact him tomorrow, please do so by email (matatuman@earthlink.net).

Tomorrow evening I'll be leaving Salt Lake City at about 9:00 p.m. But no worries, this blog (and the fulfillment of Judd's every passing desire) will be maintained by Michelle Dixon, Judd's dear friend from high school who will be flying in tomorrow around 5:00. Her contact information will be added to this blog, and she'll be Judd's main point person until at least Thursday of next week. Please feel free to continue to contact me as well as I'll be in constant communcation with Michelle while I'm back in Brooklyn. I'll be back in Judd's room next weekend to pick up where I left off.

Please keep the messages coming. Judd's enjoyed every one of them, and I know he appreciates your communication.

The Facts

The following is a collaborative effort between Adam, Frankie and Judd. It is intended to fill in some of the questions friends and family may have about the details of Judd’s condition.

Judd is responding well to the early stages of chemotherapy and his doctors are pleased at the results. His white blood cell count has returned to normal levels, and his red blood cell count is surprisingly good. With time the side effects of chemotherapy will take their toll, but he is looking and feeling well.

Judd has been definitively diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia, or A.L.L., and all other possible diagnoses, from viral infection to immune system failure, have been ruled out. A.L.L. is more common in children than adults, and is more often than not successfully treated. It is a well-researched cancer for which many reliable treatments are available.

The catheter was successfully installed in Judd and it is being used to deliver two types of drugs to Judd's heart several times a day: chemotherapeutic drugs designed to destroy fast-dividing cancerous cells (and unfortunately many good ones as well) and a cocktail of enzymes and bonding agents meant to break down and carry away the toxic remnants of destroyed cancer cells. He is also taking an oral steroid that will increase cell regeneration rates. Tomorrow, an injection of chemotherapeutic drugs below Judd's spine is planned to protect his nervous system, at which time a sample of spinal fluid will be taken for testing.

Dosages are being administered at a very high potency level, a regime usually reserved for children whose recovery abilities are strong. The doctors elected to take this route in part because of the seriousness of Judd’s illness and in part because of Judd’s otherwise excellent health. With powerful drugs and toxins circulating in Judd's blood, his kidneys and liver are being monitored carefully, but toxicity levels are currently within acceptable limits.

The first round of Judd’s chemotherapy treatment will last one month, during which time Judd will remain in the Huntsman Cancer Institute hospital. The hospital is set up for and encourages companionship for patients during the course of treatment, and Judd will have his family and a few friends with him most or all of the time.

As news of Judd's illness was sudden for all of us, you may be interested to know some further background.

For several weeks before this previous Monday, Judd had been feeling tired and achy. He was experiencing swelling and hardening of his lymph nodes, though this was not necessarily painful. Judd suspected his symptoms might either be the result of something he picked up during his recent travels in Africa and the Caribbean or simply the remnants of a cold he had been fighting prior to arriving in the Pacific Northwest. He began seeking out medical assistance on Orcas Island, though not urgently.

As his symptoms worsened exponentially, a friend, herself a cancer survivor, took note and urged Judd to see a doctor. Several other island friends stepped up as well, one taking the initiative to make an ‘emergency’ medical appointment this past Monday. We are all grateful for their concern and gumption.

The doctor in Washington was unable to offer a definitive diagnosis, but offered various possibilities, including blood cancer. When cancer was mentioned, Judd's family decided to bring him to Salt Lake on Tuesday.

Meanwhile, Judd's symptoms, including rash-like areas on his skin due to decreased levels of platelets in his blood, grew worse. He was very ill on the plane. When he arrived in Salt Lake, he opted for a night's rest at home.

His symptoms grew worse throughout the night, and by morning urgent care was needed. Judd’s mom drove him to the University of Utah Emergency Student Medical Center where he saw a doctor early on Wednesday morning. He was quickly referred to the Huntsman Cancer Institute where he received immediate
attention.

Judd's case was treated with grave concern from the outset. He continues to receive a high level of attention. Constant monitoring of his condition at the beginning of his stay made rest difficult, but this has improved. He has been getting more rest recently.

Judd is in good hands in a world class facility, surrounded by caring and capable professionals, friends and family. His ailment is understood and he is responding well to the initial stages of an aggressive and usually successful therapy.

We're grateful for many things: for perceptive friends, modern medicine, caring doctors and concerned nurses, love of family and friends, the blessings of heaven, your prayers and most of all for Judd Eccles Hardy.

South Africa

Annika, Sandi, and Judd in South Africa.

This picture was sent by Sandi Burnett.

As Promised

Judd's Hair

Judd Hardy now has a Mohawk. That's right, folks, a genuine, certified 80's glam rock golden runway of sweaty hair. Not entirely my fault, but I won't say I didn't egg him on. He figures its his last few days with hair, so why not live out a dangerous fantasy? Plus you all know how aggressive I sometimes get with clippers. (Pictures will follow.)

Annika and Andrea redecorated Judd's room today. They turned a flurry of craft goods, thumb tacks, prayer flags and disinfectant wipes into a decorating scheme worthy of at least a half hour on primetime HGN. They also brought and framed their beautiful photographs. What was once just a hospital room is now much closer to a home, and for that I'm very grateful.

Judd is just a few seconds from sleep, and so am I. It was an excellent day for him. High spirits and high energy. It is a calm before the storm, for sure, as the nastier effects of the chemotherapy have not yet set in, but he is doing very well. It's an excellent jumping off point for the difficult journey ahead. Please know that the doctors are time and again impressed by his strength and resilience. He's well, and that's why I'm going to bed full of hope and optimism.

Judd Laughing At...

Here's an image of Judd that Adam fished off the web. It's from Rain Falls, Judd's recent one-man show.

A Hearty Breakfast

It is a gorgeous morning here in the Salt Lake Valley. From Judd's room you can see the tree tops protruding up from their roots in the Avenues, the desert sun casting welcome shadows from the modest skyscrapers, the shining spires of the temple, and the blue-green expanse of the Great Salt Lake. But the heck with views, I have better news. Judd looks/feels/sounds good. (Now if we could just work on the smell... just kidding, Judd, jeez!)

The heavenly care staff here at the Huntsman petitioned the doctors to reduce Judd's nighttime fluid collections to once every two hours. This allowed Judd to finally get some much-needed rest. The result is fantastic. Already this morning they've seen a promising reduction in his cancerous white blood cells. Judd's sleeping again, but he's looking forward to a hearty, solid breakfast when he wakes. He is still in no pain. Your prayers, kind words, and Judd's resolve are already paying off. Thank you.

Love,
Frankie

His Cat Nap, My Update

Judd woke up around 4:00 feeling rested. We immediately fetched the doctor, as had been requested, in order to discuss treatment.

Judd will begin treatment in an hour or two. I'm wary to discuss the details of his treatment as the doctors have informed us it is likely to change as new information and test results become available. Suffice it to say that what they are recommending is very rigorous. He will need a lot of rest and downtime during the coming week(s).

He's sleeping now. He's very peaceful. For the few hours he was awake, he was experiencing no pain and only mild nausea.

Please continue to send your words of kindness as I know he'll appreciate them when he wakes.

Love,
Frankie

An Hour's Rest

Judd has returned from surgery. We've been given every indication that it went well. His IVs have been removed in favor of the much more efficient cathetar. He's pretty groggy, but he managed some basic communication (gestures, a few words). He's sleeping now, for the first time in a while. David and I are sitting here beside him.

He looks quite good considering how rough the last few days must have been on him. His skin is soft and glowing. His eyes are calm.

The quality of care here at University of Utah is clearly very high. The facility is beautiful and well-staffed. (You wouldn't believe this bathroom--Tripp I'm taking pictures to use it as a jumping off point for ours.) There's hardly a sound up here in the mountains, aside from the the drip and Judd's trademark snore. The drip gets annoying, but his snore is a welcome familiarity.

The doctor wants to begin chemotherapy as soon as possible. Of course, though, she needs Judd's understanding and consent before that happens. She's elected to give him an hour's rest before that meeting is set to take place.

Until then,
Frankie

Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia

Here's a link to a page giving details on Judd's diagnosis:

http://www.leukemia-lymphoma.org/all_page?item_id=7049

Touchdown in Salt Lake City

I've arrived in Salt Lake City and made my way to the hospital. Judd is in recovery right now from surgery. The surgery was scheduled for this morning, but they had to push it back due to a scheduling conflict. We have been told that the surgery went well. A cathetar has been installed which will allow easy administration of chemotherapy.

I'm in Judd's hospital room, waiting for him to return. David, Carlie, Megan, and Jeremy are here with me. I'm planning on staying the night with Judd in the hospital.

My Status

I am currently sitting in the Denver Airport waiting for the final leg of my journey to Salt Lake. I expect to be there shortly after noon. I anticipate today will be a very difficult day for Judd and all the members of his family. Please let me know if there's anything you'd like for me to communicate to them.

Love,
Frankie

Email from Adam Johnson

The following is an email sent out by Adam Johnson (Judd's cousin) to many of Judd's friends and family:

Dear Friends of Judd,

Judd Hardy was has been diagnosed with acute leukemia and is beginning chemotherapy today at the University of Utah's Huntsman Cancer Institute.

Judd flew to Salt Lake City yesterday after a doctor at a clinic in Orcas Island, Washington, where he has been working for the summer with his brother James, told him to see a blood cancer specialist immediately after observing his severely swollen lymph nodes.

Following a bone marrow biopsy, doctors at the Hunstman Institute determined yesterday that he has rapidly moving acute leukemia and are beginning what is expected to be a five-week to two-month initial treatment of chemotherapy. A further diagnosis of the type of leukemia (myelogenous or lymphocytic) is expected to come.

Judd is very weak and very ill, but in very good hands. His white blood cell count, which should normally be at 10,000, was read yesterday at 122,000. A catheter is being surgically inserted today to allow easy administration of chemotherapy and other drugs and to take blood samples when needed.

I haven't spoken to Judd, but have been in touch with David, Carlie, James, Erin and Frankie Rolapp. All of this information comes from them, and this is about all the news I have at the moment.

Frankie and I have set up a website where updates and news will be posted: http://juddhardy.blogspot.com/

Judd is a strong man who has hard work ahead of him. He and his family need our love and support. Please remember him and the Hardy's in your prayers.

Love,

Adam

Welcome

This is the official Judd Hardy blog. Use this site for updates or to contact Judd or other members of the Hardy family.

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