I answered the phone and the nurse on the other end explained that my blood work was off and they wanted me to come in and run a few more tests. I didn’t really understand what she was saying. There were numbers being rattled off and I asked “what exactly does that mean?” but she wouldn’t give me a straight answer. I explained that I lived sixty miles away and asked if I could come in on Monday when I’d be in New Haven for work. She told me that not only did they want me in today, but as soon as possible. Ug. I hung up from her and called my mother. We made plans to go down to New Haven, take care of business and maybe swing by the Clinton Outlets on the way home.

The drizzly gloom held tight for the long ride down. We speculated a little on the way down what could be the big deal but we mostly sat in quiet as Dad navigated the way. We walked into the busy urgent care center and let the receptionist know I was there. My butt didn’t get to warm the waiting room seat before I was called in (this can’t be good I thought). I’ll never forget that little yellow room. I sat in there as the dr on duty poked and prodded and thoroughly examined my body. I asked what he suspected but he was vague and skirted with “let me finish my exam and we’ll discuss”.. er.. “whatever “ I think as he’s checking out the baby bruises I have below my waist. He finishes and explains that my blood counts were way off and that maybe there was a mistake in the lab, maybe some blood got mixed up but “we’re going to send you to the hospital to redo the test and rule out leukemia”. Um, what? I’m sure I didn’t hear you right. He explained that it could very well be something else but he didn’t know so he wanted us to go to the hospital. He then asked if I wanted my parents to come in, naturally I said yes.

I was in shock but it didn’t really hit home until my folks came in. Naturally they expected me to tell them what was going on. I didn’t really understand myself, how was I supposed to relay this info to my parents? I tried to speak but nothing wanted to come out, I had no idea what words to string together. Somehow, after a few moments of struggle, I managed to relay what the doctor told me. I can remember reading the shock of comprehension in their eyes. We sad quietly in that little yellow room for what felt like hours but was only minutes. The doctor came in and spent some time using different words that didn’t really help the situation. We heard “prognosis” and “ask about survival…” not really sure what came after that as my brain stopped working at survival. What do I need to survive? Lots of people live through leukemia, right? (I didn’t get to ask this question that day and didn’t like the answer when I did get the chance). This is no big deal, right? He asked us if I wanted to take an ambulance over  to the hospital. Why?? Uh… naw, we’ll drive the couple of blocks.

None of us were looking forward to an afternoon in a busy New Haven ER, ug. We walk in, let the people know we were there and I was immediately taken care of. Oh crap, this really can’t be good we thought. They started getting some of the regular ER info from me and walked me back when they learned enough. My parents remained with the reception woman doing the rest of the paperwork. Weird! Inside the ER was full, there were people in the halls, all the rooms were full and drapes were drawn everywhere. My escort deposited me on a free cot in the hallway and told me to wait. I’m sitting there on the cot, with crazy going on around me and some crazy Einstein looking dr approached me and asked if he could help me, as I might be lost just sitting there in my street clothes on a cot in the middle of the ER. “Crap, he’s going to make me say the word again, isn’t he?” I thought. With as much strength I could muster I manage out in a shaky voice “I’m here to rule out leukemia?”. His whole demeanor changed. His eyes went soft and he took a step into my personal space. Turns out he was the head dr on charge that day and he tried to have friendly distracting conversation with me about cameras and Apple computers. He moved on but his visit lingered for a while. It didn’t take long for a room to be cleared and to be nestled in with my parents for the journey. But I did note the people who left the room were now sitting on a cot in the hallway. What the frik is the big deal here???

We were told much of what the urgent care doctor told us. It could be from the abscess I had the week prior or something completely benign. They took more blood and we waited.,, and waited.. and waited. At one point, Dr. Einstein comes into my room as I’m using the restroom and tells my mother “this will either be an event or a non-event”. We made fun of that statement for a while, it helped pass the time. Five hours later (the comforting typical behavior we expect from a visit to the ER) they tell us I’m getting a room upstairs so they can run more tests to rule out leukemia. I guess we’re not going to hit the outlets today.
This was the day my world changed. I went from a young 30 year old single mother of two to a cancer survivor. I didn’t really know how much my life would change, but it was clear that it was about to change. The shock wouldn’t settle for days and the ruling never did eliminate leukemia from the short list. I didn’t leave the hospital for almost a month and even then it wasn’t for long. Treatment sucked and rocked all at the same time. No, I didn’t enjoy all the sick that goes with cancer treatment but I did enjoy the time to get acquainted with my new life. Everything changed. I’ve always prided myself on “living for the day” or having a good outlook on life and now I’m dealing with the reality of those life traits.

Today I celebrate day one of my five year cancerversary. In five years I’ve learned powerful lessons but never had an epiphany. I’ve evolved into someone who truly does take life seriously. I still cannot comprehend how much of a big deal leukemia is. Oh it hits home every now and then when a friend dies of the same disease and I’m very afraid of the fact that it’s most of my AML friends who relapse. For a while I was convinced my fate was going to be the same eventually. But I’ve learned to live with the fear and keep it under control. Leukemia IS a big deal. The fact that I beat 25% survival odds IS a big deal. I do know this (but it’s still very hard to comprehend) and it is for this reason that I will be celebrating the whole month of May. There is varying ideas of where to count your date of remission from. Some say the date of diagnosis, some don’t go right into remisson so they count the first clean test date or even the last treatment. April 29, 2005 I didn’t have my diagnosis yet and wouldn’t for about a week but It was the day it all started. The following day I was fitted with a hickman and the day following that my first chemo treatment. I spent the month fighting and evil I couldn’t comprehend and I won my battle. It’s for this that I will be celebrating not just today, but the month. I am a survivor in every sense of the word. I celebrate not only my own life, but the lives I’ve seen taken and the lives I know still fight. Cancer isn’t always a death sentence, even the scary ones. I love my life.

We had the opportunity to have Scott’s girls stay with us this summer. I don’t see myself as a step mother kind of person and it takes some getting used to for sure. I’m grateful for that time I’ve gotten to spend with the girls for I’ve been able to fall in love with them as well. My family has doubled and it’s amazing. Course, we need a car now that can handle the 6 of us but we manage (two cars everywhere), groceries never hang around long and there is never any “me” time in our tiny little house but we manage. It’s exciting.

I am another year cancer free. Almost to my 5 year mark, that is a biggie. I am grateful that this year my cancer fears have gotten less and short of a blip of fear here and there, I’m living a “normal” life. I consider myself healthy (er.. kinda, unfit = unhealthy but who’s counting). I still go to support group but more to offer support these days than receive. I do still ball like a baby whenever I hear stories of cancer (NO, I refuse to watch things like Sisters Keeper), it affects me and I don’t believe that is a bad thing.

My sister finally left her no good cheating … husband and moved home from North Carolina. This is a biggie that I am grateful for. Not much worse than to talk on the phone with your miserable sister and want nothing more than to go scoop her up and pop a cap in her husband.. and not be able to. I try to not hate or even dislike anyone but some people make it so hard. I don’t hate him, but I certainly don’t have any respect for the bastard… oops getting side tracked, that happens on that subject. I am grateful Dawn is home and starting her life. She has all that she needs here and is learning to count on herself. It’s a beautiful thing.

For next year, I hope to marry my Ookie Bookie and cruise the Mediterranean on our honeymoon. I hope to travel more, work less (ah we can dream), make new friends and keep the old (kum ba yah anyone?). I hope to make it to Vail for the First Descents Ball again this year and revisit Montana for my FD camp. I hope Scott’s girls move home soon and we find the perfect house (and sell ours of course, want to buy a house?) to house all of us. Most of all, I will work on living my life with love and without judgment.

Shingles are contagious. Depending on who you ask it seems the most say it’s only contagious to those who have not had or been immunized against the chicken pox or those who have a compromised immune system. Doh, it’s Thanksgiving in like two days! I also had plans to go see some of my dear FD family that weekend.. cancer survivors, prolly have compromised immune systems. I ended up calling all the people I was planning to see and everyone was cool with my cooties. Yay. I would take precautions but I was happy my cooties didn’t screw up my holiday.

I think I was lucky. Most people gasp at the thought of shingles because they either had them horribly or heard of someone who have had them horribly. Yes they hurt. I was surprised at how they hurt but by no means did they cripple me. I think I caught it early enough and the rash seemed to stop in its tracks. Besides a small pesky patch on my boob (lost another piercing, grrr), the other spots ran their course and dried up. I did stay out of work for two weeks just to be sure I wouldn’t infect anyone there. As of now, about 4 weeks later, my spots are all healing up. I still get sharp pains and the spots get sore every now and then but I’m good. Just another blip.

70% to 80% of acute myelogenous leukemia patients experience complete remission. In total, about 20% to 30% of patients survive and are free of AML 5 years after the diagnosis. AML patients who have not had a relapse during this time are considered completely cured, because most relapses happen within 2 years of the AML diagnosis.

Source: Leukemia Cancer Information

I feel like I've finally found the bit of info on the web (who cares how reliable or accurate it is, I know I don't) I've been looking for since my dx. Soooo all I have to do is make it to April and I'm CURED! Wow.

I attend my local leukemia and lymphoma society support group and have for a few years. Support groups are interesting. It is indeed valuable to be able to regularly talk to people about cancer and not only have them not be sick of hearing it, but can relate to it. I treasure the ‘support’ I get but it’s bittersweet. The price I pay is watching some people very close to me and my situation pass away. There are some in active treatment, some who’ve been in remission for a long time (such as myself), some who get sick again, newly diagnosed and sadly, some who are very close to the end. Through the years that I’ve attended, I’ve always been the youngest and aside from one other (who has since passed) the only AML (or leukemia for that matter) survivor. Many times I have commented on wishing to meet an AML survivor who is 10 or more years out. One who was not diagnosed as a child nor one who is geriatric as both these scenarios are different than my own. We had a nurse this week and I posed the question to her “Do you know of many (or any) leukemia survivors who are 10+ years out?” (I get mixed reactions when I mention this) Her thought is that there are long term survivors out there but they have made it past the trauma of their treatment and don’t wish to look back. . She wracked her brain but could only think of one or two that fit the bill. She also works more in treatment than after care so she wouldn’t have exposure.. ok, excuse granted..

I took all this with me this morning to my 6 month check up. Yesterday I had my blood drawn and while I feel good and was sure all was fine, I still couldn’t help be a little worried. I still was anxious to see my numbers when the Dr came in the room. I’m fine. In fact I was going to ask to move to 1yr visits but we agreed to meet again in 6 months and then move to the yearly schedule. I also took advantage of my time with the Dr and asked some pressing questions that have been on my mind. I asked him if he had many leukemia survivors who are 10 or more years out and he, without hesitation, said oh yes. This excited me and I dared press on.. I asked, “a lot?”, He hesitated and said well, there aren’t many cases such as yours to begin with but yes, and he paused to think, there about 10 in his mind that he cares for over the years. He then said that typically he only gets 1-3 cases like mine a year and while there are a bunch that don’t make it, there are also some who do. He stressed again that if I’ve made it this far, it’s likely that nothing is going to happen. He even dared to say the word “cure” but he looked uncomfortable doing so. He’s said this last part to me before and I still don’t hold much stock in it as he also admitted in the same conversation that we still have no idea what actually causes leukemia but, I still took comfort from today’s visit.

I’m fine

Some First Descents news: I’m signed up this year to kayak in Idaho in August. A couple of my FD friends also said they were doing the Idaho camp so I’m excited for that. I’m also very excited to meet some new FD friends. This is such a worthwhile cause; it makes so much difference in a life, in many lives. It’s amazing. Nuff said for now.. more to come..

I can't believe it's finally here! Feels like I've been waiting forever for this.

It's FD Ball time!

You may remember last year I did a kayaking camp run by First Descents (founded by Brad Ludden, yum) and had the time of my life. There was buzz about this Fisrt Descents Ball held in Vail and from the moment I heard about it, I knew I was sooo there. Wouldn't you know it that times are a little tough right now and jetting off to Vail isn't the most responsible thing to do but.. I wanna (whine) so, I'm gunna. Scott and I are heading out to Vail this weekend for the 3rd Annual First Descents Ball (there's still time to get your tix!). It's a hat party and I look awful in hats but amazingly enough, I found the perfect one and can't wait to show it off. The dress on the other hand, not so lucky, still looking. Of course I'll let you know how it goes, check back next week!

It’s been almost 4 years since my dx. Seems like just yesterday. Sometimes the shock and disbelief still creep up on me. Just when I’m feeling comfortable and ready to take the next step forward, the fear of that moment, the moment when my world stops, the moment I hear “you’ve got leukemia”, creeps up on me and takes me back. Only for a minute, till I can rationalize with my fear and convince it that it’s ok to relax and not worry. I must admit, I’m not sure my brain 100% believes it but it does a good job convincing who/whatever needs convincing. I’m fine and will be forever. I will live a long happy life without having to battle cancer again. I will die a peaceful natural way without the help of the evil that cancer is.. a long long time from now. I can say the words and I can almost believe them, I can. But it’s a battle when everywhere I look, it’s there. Cancer is everywhere. It’s suffocating and so damn frightening. I put it up on the shelf and try not to think about it so much. Watching my Aunt die, watching the cancer take her, was by far, hands down the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Then to see my Gram die the same death.. Burying my neighbor from the same fate.. hearing of death from my support group.. It can all be very overwhelming. The conflict I have for being a survivor. It’s a smigid odd to admit but I’ve felt guilty in the presence of grieving family because I was fortunate enough to survive my battle. Silly, I know, but it’s there.

So, yea, I’m healthy. My last oncology appointment was in December and my counts were normal. I go to the doctor every 6 months now and get a CBC whenever I feel I might need one. I’ve been doing really well not freaking out at every bout of fatigue or bruise. There are times in my cycle that I have more moments of concern but ive gotten to the point where I recognize it and am able to wait it out before I freak out. Time, I guess, can be a wonderful thing. The more time I’m given, the easier it is to deal.

My girls are doing well too. I’m not sure of exactly how well they are dealing or dealt with my cancer. They don’t like to talk about it.. Well, they don’t like to talk about it to ME. Honestly I think puberty is a bigger issue right now. There isn’t quite a light at the end of the tunnel yet as they are 10 & 13 but I know it’s there ;-)

So that’s it, that’s my update. Hope all is well with you and yours. Till next time..

Well well well, that was certainly smooth! I didn’t even see you coming. Up out of nowhere you eased into my life without even a peep. Sure, news of your presence was a shock for my family and myself but we didn’t dwell on it. Once we learned you were there, we took action and blasted you with the biggest bomb we could find. Didn’t feel too good, did it. Doesn’t feel good being snuck up on and attacked, does it. Too bad for you! We blasted you out and you waved the white flag immediately. Did you think we’d fall for that? Fat chance. We blasted you some more & a little more than that. Seeing the white flag wasn’t good enough. Sorry, you needed to die.

If I didn’t make it clear, I’m not crazy about being snuck up on. Unfortunately you’ve got me looking over my shoulder almost every day. You won’t sneak up on me again, I’m prepared this time. In a perfect world, I’d believe that your dead but I can’t help the nagging feeling you’re lurking somewhere. That’s ok, it’s all good. I’ve got bigger and badder weapons all lined up for when you think you’re ready to strike. Give it your best shot! I’ll take you down again, I’m not afraid.

No, I’m not afraid of you or your friends. You think you’re all big and tough with your crazy multiplying tricks and fancy vital organ locating devices. Silly cancer, don’t you know we’ve got what we need to take you out? Sure you win some of the battles but the war isn’t over and we’ve got your number. We’re learning more and more about your tactics every day. Soon you’ll surprise none and where will you be then? Give it up, you can’t win, we’re stronger and smarter.

You might as well give up now but I know you won’t. I suppose you can consider this your warning. We’re ready to fight, you won’t win.

Your worst nightmare,
Chrissy