I was told told two years ago that I almost certainly had a form of chronic leukemia and had had it for years since my white blood count was very low and it had turned out when charted and graphed that it had been falling in almost a straight line for years. When I asked how it had only just then been noticed, I was told that it had always been within normal limits until then, so it hadnt attracted any attention. The moment that I got this probably fatal cancer diagnosis for a man my age, I felt my chest tighten and my body tense up, and while I continued to not feel sick, I no longer felt well either. Every breath that I took from that moment on was a little uneasy, no longer carefree. I could feel something cold breathing down the back of my neck. Almost immediately blood tests to determine just exactly what manner of leukemia I had, and which were to go on for months, began. And with them, my odyssey in the world of leukemia patients, real life zombies, who were mercilessly and tenuously suspended between the world of the living and the dead sometimes for years. I was told that there were about a hundred possible blood dyscrazias which caused leukemia and that I definitely had one of them. When I asked if one was better than another, I was told that they were all bad and some were worse, in those exact words. When I asked if any were treatable, I was told that I could be supported. I decided not to inquire further. I waited to see my doctors and get the results of each round of blood tests with all the other Leukemia patients many of whom were in the midst of receiving chemo treatments and were so anemic that on a quick glance around that sterile, white waiting room it looked like eyes were peering at me right out of the walls. And on each visit I was told that the latest test had not been conclusive and I was again sent to the lab for another blood test and given another appointment. After about four months of tests and many hours of sitting frightened and demoralized in that dreary waiting room filled with people who looked like they were on deaths doorstep, and some of whom tragically actually were, I finally asked if there was any test that was conclusively diagnostic and was told that there was, a bone marrow sample obtained from drilling out a core from my pelvis would be conclusive. I then asked why this had not been done over the last four months and was told that it was because it was so invasive and carried a risk of infection. I responded that the way things were going that I would die of leukemia before I got a diagnosis and I demanded that the bone marrow extraction be done immediately. What I actually said was, Get a Black and Decker and lets do it now damnit! This message finally got through and the extraction was scheduled immediately and done a few days later. It showed that I had pernicious anemia and not leukemia which is why Im still here to tell this story. I experienced such a release of pent up tension when I received that life sparing diagnosis that I went so limp that I almost collapsed on the floor in a pile. And when I finally walked out of the hospital that afternoon into the bright sunshine of a perfect summer day, I felt reborn, but very much aware of the fragility of life and how close a call that I had just had. And I felt badly about the people that I had just left behind in that depressing waiting room, and hoped against hope that they too would be alright. But all I could really think of was a birthday card that I had received a few years earlier. It pictured a guy sitting in his car driving down the street and looking up into his rear view mirror which was featured prominently in the photo and which showed the Grim Reaper, scythe in hand, standing in the road right behind him. When I opened the card the endearment said, Warning: objects in mirror are closer than they appear! Happy Birthday!
Posted on: Fri, 04 Apr 2014 01:54:17 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015