Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Monday July 2nd, 2007
I am at soccer practice. It's almost 2pm. I have just finished taking attendance. I am sitting in the grass stretching when I notice a tiny deer tick on my calf. Naturally, I freak out. I take the opportunity to see the doctor and receive antibiotics for lyme disease on Worker's Comp.
Because I am so good at managing my time, I decide to get all of my medical problems out of the way in one day and drive from Lawrence General to the PMA Walk-In Clinic in North Andover to have a swollen gland looked at. At this point, I had had it for about 3 weeks. Originally, I thought it might be from allergies with the pollen count being so high. Then, I began to think it might be my thyroid. The doctor takes one look at my visibly asymmetrical neck and immediately infers that I have lymphoma.

I say, "Oh, OK. What's that."

He replies, "Cancer."

I ask, "Oh... What should I tell my Mother?"

He said that it would have to removed for us to be sure.


Tuesday July 3rd, 2007
I find my Dad waiting for me in the classroom where I teach Beginning Black & White Photography. My primary care physician, Dr. David Farzan wanted to see me immediately. So, we go back to PMA and he orders blood work and a chest X-ray. This all takes less than hour. Dr. Farzan looks at the X-rays that day in the middle of a crowded hallway full of desks and nurse practitioners and filing cabinets. We get our first look at the swollen cancerous lymphnodes in my chest (also known as the mediastinal region). We would later find out that it is about 9.4cm. in diameter (that translates to about 3.7in.).


Wednesday July 4th, 2007
I participate in Field Day. I don't see any fireworks. But I eat a festive sno-cone.


Thursday July 5th, 2007
At 9am I have an upper body CT scan which takes about 5mins. They inject me with some sort of dye that makes my entire body really hot. Then it's over. They take more blood, weigh me, take my vital signs and tell me all about what the surgical biopsy of my right supraclavicular will be like. This is the day I realize how much weight I have lost (5lbs., but still).


Friday July 6th, 2007
I am having chest pains from anxiety. I can't eat anything for 6 hours prior to the surgery. I'm starving. We get there and they give me an IV. We wait about an hour. The anesthesiologist freaks me out by telling me that it is going to feel like I had a glass of wine. I almost start to cry. She corrects herself and says, "OK, maybe two glasses of wine." I am about to burst into tears.

Enter Dr. Gemis, general surgeon. He reassures me that I am going completely to sleep... because if I even flinch, he could damage a major artery. Phew. Fine by me.

When I wake up I am full of questions but the nurses make me rest and eat crushed ice. I never see Dr. Gemis again but I hear that he told my parents that he removed the entire lymphnode.

I spend the weekend sleeping, shopping, and eating ice cream. It's not so bad. My neck looks symmetrical (aside from the tape holding my skin together) immediately.


Wednesday July 11th, 2007
I visit Dr. Gemis and he removes the tape from my wound. It looks pretty gross, but I suck it up and go without a band-aid. My Dad always says it's better for the air to get to it. Dr. Gemis tell's us that all results show that I have Hodgkin's Lymphoma (nodular sclerosis type, to be exact-- which is the most common and least aggressive type). Hodgkin's Lymphoma is a cancer of the blood like leukemia and multiple myeloma. These cancers affect the way the body makes blood and provides immunity from other diseases.
About 8,000 people are diagnosed with it each year in the United States (population: 301,139,947). Talk about lucky.

Dr. Gemis's assistant, Kristen, makes me appointments with a hematologic-oncologist at Lawrence General and a radiologist at Holy Family. These appointments are in 2.5 weeks.

I can't wait that long and call The Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston on a whim. They make me an appointment with a Hodgkin's Lymphoma specialist named Dr. David Fisher for next week! I am really excited to speak with someone who knows my disease so intimately.


Tuesday July 17th, 2007
My Mom, Todd, and I venture into Jamaica Plain in Boston to the Faulkner Hospital to meet Dr. Fisher. He is awesome, answers all of our questions, and tells me I'm smart. I ask silly questions like "Is a Reed-Sternberg Cell the same as a lymphocyte?" and relevant questions like "Do you think I have bulky disease?" (You can find the meaning of these and any other words you don't understand in my "Things you never really wanted to know until you got Hodgkin's Disease" entry... which is in the works).

He also speeds up the entire process by scheduling me an upper body PET scan which will help us to stage my disease.

Monday July 23rd, 2007
This time we actually visit the Dana-Farber Institute in Boston. Again, I can't eat for 6 hours. I am injected with a radioactive, sugar-based liquid and left to sit behind a heavy lead door in a room all alone for 45mins. I am actually temporarily radioactive... Which feels like nothing and I watch World's Dirtiest Jobs and take a 20min nap. Then they take me into the scanning room where I have to lay in a tube for 22mins with my arms over my head. In the beginning, I imagine that I am taking a nap in the cabin of a boat on the ocean. It's really relaxing to listen to the waves crashing against the windows.

Then, a voice comes on the speaker and says, "You're doing great. 9 more minutes." Then, my left arm falls asleep. It feels so heavy and dead I begin to think it will never come back to life. I start to squirm and whine. I ask if I can put my arms down and no one answers me. Finally, it's over and I have to lift my left arm with my right arm because it is so heavy and immobile.

Then I eat Teddy Grahms and Sun Chips. We meet with Dr. Fisher again and he tells us that I have Hodgkin's Lymphoma Stage IIA. That's a good thing. It means that it has spread to two different sites (my neck and my chest) but has not spread below the diaphragm. This means that so far, my liver and spleen have been spared.

We go to Bugaboo Creek and drink white wine and eat Snowboard Chicken. Todd has Captain and Coke. And we keep Mom out too late driving on the mean city streets of Boston.