And Then I Got Cancer

Every morning since I got the picc line taken out I've had a blood draw. I started bracing myself for that 5am wake up call when I would see the phlebotomist walk in and I would know who'd be poking me that day. This week I've been lucky to get Inna, a Polish woman who reminds me of a fairy with golden curls and delicate fingers. She pops into my room and wraps a tourniquet around my left arm, feeling for the vein. "Oyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyyy!" she says every time, look at the accumulating bruises. Then, "this is going to hurt, I'm so sorry." And she seems truly sorry to have to do it. But she pops the needle in, and it doesn't hurt. And a few seconds later, it's over. And every morning she leaves me a whole roll of Coban, in case I want to wrap the dressing tighter. Now I have a stack of Coban rolls next to my bed. The results from the CBC come back an hour or so later, and I'm always eager to hear the news. But lately it's been pretty mu

Until yesterday, I'd been feeling pretty lucky. The blast count in my blood was a mere 5% when I got my diagnosis, and it didn't seem to be growing. I felt like I had just a "little" case of leukemia. And who knows, maybe it was all just a mistake. Maybe with a little more testing the doctors would finally realize this wasn't the big deal they thought it was, and sorry you did all that chemo for no reason. And then they would give me T-shirt and I would go home. But they gave me a number yesterday that brought me back down to reality. When they tested my bone marrow the very first time, they found that 43 percent of the cells were leukemia cells. 43 percent. I asked how long it takes to get from one bad cell to 43 percent of the cells in my bone marrow. They couldn't say for sure, it depends on the individual. But it took months. Or possibly just weeks, depending on how aggressive the cancer is. So I'm not a biologist, and I'm trying to piece toge

Sorry, I told you I would know if I was in remission yesterday. Then yesterday I told you I actually wouldn't know for sure until today. And today I have to tell you that I won't know for sure until next week. *sigh* So here's what happened. Drs. McDermott and Patil came down and told me yet another test would be needed to determine if the cells they saw from my bone marrow biopsy are leukemia cells or Sarah cells. The test the pathologist ran was looking for a protein marker on the surface of these cells. I guess the results of this test are not conclusive enough to say for sure one way or another, and the only way to really say for sure is to look at the chromosomes. It's a FISH test, or Fluorescence In Situ Hybridization test. That's like the fanciest fish name I've ever heard. The FISH test is what they did with the first sample, which determined that we were looking at monosomy 7. The results from that first test came back on a Thursday following a Fri

It's........ inconclusive. Here's what they saw in my bone marrow. Not a lot. As in, they said it looked "pretty empty". Which is what we were expecting after the chemo. But it wasn't completely empty, there were some cells in there. In the peripheral blood, there were no leukemia cells. In the bone marrow, there were no leukemia cells, maybe. What they saw were reactive cells. Which I guess are cells that are being recruited to help fight infection. These cells were too immature to tell what they would be when they grew up. They could grow up to be leukemia cells, or they could grow up to be Sarah cells. The leukemia kids would have some kind of protein marker on them, so to figure it out the sample will be further tested. And the result of that test will come back tomorrow afternoon. Sorry to keep you in suspense. In other news, I had a lucid dream this morning. I've had a few lucid dreams recently, and I'm always disappointed by what I choose to

Last night, I got another transfusion of platelets with the aim of preventing any major bleeding during my biopsy today. This transfusion was a little different from last time though. My blood type is Rh- and CMV-. They didn't have any platelets that matched, so they had to decide whether to give me RH+ or CMV+. I had never heard of CMV, but I learned it's a common virus. The majority of adults over some age have antibodies for it. But I do not. And I guess it could be dangerous to give me CMV+ platelets with my white counts so low? So they opted to give me RH+ platelets. The only problem with this is I could now develop antibodies for this Rh stuff. Protein. Whatever. Which is really only a problem if I were to become pregnant and the fetus happened to have Rh+ blood. So. This is the second time I've been talked to about fertility (chemo isn't good for that either), and it's a good thing I didn't have any plans to have kids ever. This morning I had my seco

Every morning sometime around 6am, I get a visit from Cara, a third year medical student. She asks how I'm doing that day, and we talk about any changes in my symptoms. She does a physical exam, and often apologizes for her cold hands. They feel nice on my skin in my overly warm room, though. She comes in so early because she has to be prepared to report on my case every day to the medicine team, who does their rounds a couple hours later. When the team does come in, it's a rotating cast of characters. The attending physician, along with a handful of residents and interns, move from one team to another every couple weeks. My Hem/Onc team is different as well, with Dr. Bowles having been replaced by Dr. McDermott as the attending. Nurses change even more frequently. I might have the same nurse 4 days in a row, then see someone entirely new. But the one constant, besides Dr. Patil, has been Cara. It's reassuring to see her smiling face first thing every morning. Cara

I didn't know I could get so excited about blood products being injected into my body. But the days of anticipation paid off and I finally got a transfusion yesterday. It was a little nerve wracking signing the waiver when they told me the odds of contracting hepatitis or HIV, but then I remembered the other odds they gave me, so I said fuck it. I got two units of red blood cells and two units of platelets. It's pretty interesting how they have all the blood components separated out. I guess blood used for transfusions like this is specially filtered and irradiated so I don't get anything, like white blood cells, that would be bad for me. fresh blood It took hours to get it all in there. It gave me a metallic taste, but after a while I felt a little more alive. I could take a deeper breath, walk outside with Brent, and eat food. Hospital food even. Though, I much preferred the strawberry banana smoothie Brent brought for me. That tasted a lot better than blood. I