On the way to yoga today I got a little misty. I'd been to my dermatologist for my 3-month check-up and he noticed a tiny suspicious spot on my lower left leg just above the ankle. He called it a mole; I saw it as a freckle. I have lots of those. He wanted to biopsy it. What could I say? He said no news is good news.
I've always understood that expression in two ways: No news is good news and No news is good news. To me, news is very rarely good or needed at all. It's usually just worthless information, or it's bad. Maybe 5% is truly good news. I'm an optimistic person who doesn't like "news" all that much.
The nurse today said a curious thing. After she asked me about all the diseases I might have to which I said "no," she smiled and said that I'm lucky to be such a healthy person. I'm lucky to be alive, but I'm not a healthy person. All you have to do is look at my pill organizer to know that.
I willed myself out of my funk and had a great yoga class. I managed to keep myself in the present moment and not dwell on the past or future. I wish I could live that way more often.
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Adirondack Mountains, Feb. 2007
Tale of a Cord Blood Transplantee Who Relapses and Goes on to Have a Matched Unrelated-Donor Transplant
The Weight
Adirondack Mountains, Feb. 2007
ABOUT ME
In March 2006, I was diagnosed with a blood cancer called Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML). Life as I knew it came to a crashing halt. After enduring a month in the hospital where I received intense chemotherapy, I was declared "in remission." I had three additional treatments and remained cancer-free until May 2007, when I relapsed.
My only shot at survival was to have a stem cell transplant. However, my brothers' immune markers didn't match mine, and an international search of bone marrow registries found no perfect matches. A transplant using the blood from two umbilical cords was recommended. I grasped at this straw in September 2007. It seemed to work.
This blog tells the story of my transplant and recovery, replete with outrageous slings and arrows. The expression "blood is thicker than water" has new meaning for me. I remained alive due to the blood of strangers, two of them, both male. Thanks guys.
The plot thickened when I relapsed 19 months into my new remission and had to go through the same rigamarole once more. This time, I received stem cells from a matched adult donor who was identified last go round but didn't fit into the necessary time frame. Charles Dickens could have fun with this, the stuff of pulp fiction.
I remain in remission 4 years later. My donor keeps leukemic cells in check but finds interesting ways to attack my body. Chronic graft versus host disease keeps me firmly entrenched in the medical world. And so it goes.
My only shot at survival was to have a stem cell transplant. However, my brothers' immune markers didn't match mine, and an international search of bone marrow registries found no perfect matches. A transplant using the blood from two umbilical cords was recommended. I grasped at this straw in September 2007. It seemed to work.
This blog tells the story of my transplant and recovery, replete with outrageous slings and arrows. The expression "blood is thicker than water" has new meaning for me. I remained alive due to the blood of strangers, two of them, both male. Thanks guys.
The plot thickened when I relapsed 19 months into my new remission and had to go through the same rigamarole once more. This time, I received stem cells from a matched adult donor who was identified last go round but didn't fit into the necessary time frame. Charles Dickens could have fun with this, the stuff of pulp fiction.
I remain in remission 4 years later. My donor keeps leukemic cells in check but finds interesting ways to attack my body. Chronic graft versus host disease keeps me firmly entrenched in the medical world. And so it goes.
1 comment:
Believe it or not, I still get new moles. It's not often that my children or I walk out of the dermatologist office unscathed. Then comes the wait for the phone call. I hope your call comes quickly and that it was just your doctor doing what his eyes are trained to see as a precaution.
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