Been putting off this post until today, thinking a few of you I know better might be interested. About six weeks ago I went in and had bone marrow testing, after losing 25lbs in three weeks and having terrible fevers and chills, blood tests showed low white cell counts, so off to the hemo-oncologist I went.
Surely that first visit to the "Cancer Clinic" is one of those momentous days we don't want to see.
But a few days later, the phone call from the doc, and I wheedle the mysteriously jovial Dr Dr (phd, too) out of the diagnosis. It's leukemia. "you knew it was bad". "But this is the best bad news you could have"...er, what?
"You have "hairy cell leukemia". It's a "chronic" not "acute" type." "And it has such a good prognosis it's, for all practical purposes, curable".
And so it just might be. A week of 24/7 not too toxic chemotherapy, not fun, but doable, and another week of being poisoned sick. A week of mysterious rashes, painful odd items, but getting better. Then a week where my blood tests show platelets normal, a healthier liver than I've had in a decade, and a spleen that disappeared by the width of my hand. Pick line out and off all those crummy side effects drugs. Putting on clothes again. Eating three squares. Don't know if I have any bone marrow, so another $5000 shot tomorrow, but otherwise, on the road to feeling better than I have in months. And yes, if you look up hairy cell, there's a darn good chance that this treatment results in remission, one that could last 10-15 years or more.
So, I'm thankful today, quite introspective, as the family goes off to celebrate with all our friends, the way we have for twenty five years or more, and I stay here, post chemo, in the bubble knowing the flu or other infection could kill me, putting words to paper some thoughts.
I'm not cured. Not out of the woods. Not in remission yet. But I'm optimistic. Thinking I'm gonna live a while yet. Wondering what that's going to look like. Knowing, though, that it could all go up with one bad blood test, and this optimistic post could be followed by one from my oldest son telling you I"m not going to see that forty win season.
Fifty nine is early, but not really, as I reflect on the past year, even among us, here. Certainly not too early for this wake up call, although I'd rage against the dying of the light with less "best bad news" diagnosis. Mortality has its disadvantages but a big whiff of what that feels like could be a good wake up. What will be my new year's, er, life's resolutions, if the marrow grows back? I'll keep those private, for now.
And there's a road back but it's harder than it seems. Those 25 lbs was practically every bit of good muscle in shoulders, arms and legs. As they say on TV, "stubborn belly fat" survives everything, apparently, even leukemia. So I'm weak and can't just do treadmill this time. I'll have to do back, abs shoulders and arms. Lotta work ahead.
Then there's what I tell people. I kept my hair. Had a week of chemo, like a treatment for strep throat, and compared to the people I see at the clinic, I'm feeling, well, lucky, blessed, thankful, and reluctant to even have people think I went through anything like they are.
Yet, I have leukemia, and will for the rest of my life. It's a fact. Bottle of hand cleaner in ever pocket, never touching my face, a bit paranoid of lots of people in small spaces, always wondering about my monthly blood test. That's the best case.
So you're thankful this Thanksgiving, I don't care how old you are. And so am I. And I'm grateful for this little community. If you made it this far thanks for your interest. You're one of the people I'm thankful for this year. Even getting a dose of poison every twenty minutes, I could still read your posts.
And argue...
Happy Thanksgiving. See you in Nashville
Reply With Quote
Originally Posted by bigsky
Bookmarks