Taking the last flight out of Seattle, I found myself eager to put the distance between cancer and home behind. There could not be enough miles, really, to succeed. I am learning, and am reminded when I try to pretend its not there, that this is who I have become. To be more exact, it is cancer, treatments, and all the side effects that now define me. I used to think I would be getting "better" soon and all this nastiness would be a distant memory. Not so much.
I feel the need to write this one last post regarding my Seattle visit, and how some of the news is affecting my life. Some other time I can write and list all the problems and issues I have had medically, as I have been too hesitant to do so thus far. Frankly I think this is a great deal of why I don't write very often. I have only wanted to give you a happy ending. I wanted people to feel a return on their investment, so to speak. So I have skipped through most of the last year by just not writing, rather than lying. Many of you know firsthand that I am a terrible liar. I alsways end up telling on myself. However, ommission is an entirely different thing.
GREAT NEWS!! I am still in remission! This is absolutely fabulous news and each day I stay in remission bodes well for the next! I may now be made of of male cells (my donor was male) but my blood circulated through my body with no leukemia in sight!
Middle News: Seattle Cancer Center really likes for you to not have cancer anymore (I think. But more on that later.) But they sure are good at stirring the pot, creating drama, and listing your shortcomings. Think: this is too low, this is to high, we are concerned about this, etc. So even though you have just heard the great news that you are still in remission, the next sentence seems to be about something that is wrong. They should give you good news and then a lunch break, so that for at least one hour you can stay on Cloud 9.
Bad News: Unfortunately I have lost most of the immune system I had built. I heard the pontificating of statistics, still in shock. Interestingly, I had been told this news earlier that week by my local oncologist and then had Craig and I had a meeting the next day with another doctor to make sure I had heard correctly (I had been alone at the oncology appointment the day before.) I will dedicate a separate post later (I am running out of alone time, to discuss what this all means, what can be done about it, prognosis, etc. But to wrap this up, SCCA confirmed that this was not good. Their lack of attempt to comfort lies in their statements of "well, gee, sometimes this happens. We've seen this happen before" and other things that really have nothing to do with me. I know that they view us transplantees as a huge group, not regarding each patient as an individul. So I could give a shit if it happens to other people. This is me. My life. Help me, please.
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