The Day I Was Diagnosed

I remember the series of days like it was yesterday. The first of which was Thursday, May 15, 2003.  I was in nursing school, we had ended the first year, and the next semester was to begin on Wednesday, May 21, 2003. I had a sore throat that looked terrible. My Mom and neighbor kept telling me I needed to go to the doctor. I was only 20 at the time and I thought I was fine, it would get better soon. By the time the Wednesday before school was to start back rolled around, my mom and neighbor’s persistence worked. I realized if I was sick when nursing school started I would not be able to go to clinicals at the hospital, and my grade would be docked. Willingly, I made an appointment for the next day to go to my family physician.

On Thursday May 15, 2003, as I was leaving for my appointment, my Mom, as any mom would do, reenforced for me to tell the doctor about the bruising I had on my arms. “Ok momma”, I blurted back. I was young and healthy. I had never been sick. Why would it ever cross my mind that something could be wrong?

I can picture myself sitting at the end of the examination table on that crackly paper in the doctor’s office. The nurse had already swabbed my throat. The doctor came in and we began to talk and discuss the symptoms I was having. Minding my wonderful momma, I mentioned that I had bruises all over my arms and I did not know how I got them. I also had these tiny purple spots in patches on my neck. She said, “it is probably nothing, but we will do blood work anyway.” I can see her walking to the door as she said it, opened the door and walked out. I said, “okay”. The nurse, Kelly B., drew my blood, I left, and didn’t think much else about it the rest of the day.

By now it is Friday morning, May 16, 2003, and my ringing phone wakes me up. My mom has already left for work so I get up to answer it. To my surprise, it is the doctor. She begins to tell me that my blood work suggested something could be going on. She listed several things it could be and said I needed to go to UNC or Duke immediately. All I could think about was nursing school starting back and the homework I had to complete in 5 days. We hang up and my mom calls right away. She is on the way home in a panic. The doctor was on hold waiting for her when she got to work. I can only imagine that as a mom, she immediately thought the worst. For me, not so much, I took my backpack and books with me to do my homework while I was in the hospital. The doctor did tell me that had strep throat. I had gotten it from another student in my class. If it was not for that, there is no telling when I would have gone to the doctor. It could have been too late. Getting strep throat at that time was a blessing.

In a couple of hours time we had spoken with several doctors and were off to UNC. My doctor said she went to school with an excellent hematologist and he was at UNC. We had no idea where to go so Chapel Hill it was. I had a crowd in my hospital room. It was my mom and her husband, my dad and his wife, my boyfriend at the time, and lots of doctors and nurses. At hospitals like UNC and Duke, you do not see one doctor for a particular problem. You see a team of doctors that specialize in a particular subject. The team of doctors asked me lots of questions such as symptoms, family medical history, life questions, daily activity, and random stuff. They poked and prodded and mashed everything from my head to my toes. When it was all done the doctor said he needed to do a bone marrow biopsy to rule out certain things. Ok, whatever you need to do to find out what is going on. So, right then and there in my hospital bed, I role over, and the doctor does a bone marrow biopsy.

A short time passes as the results are being determined. My family and I sit in the room waiting and talking to pass the time. Still, I am not worried, but I am sure everyone else in the room is. Not long after the doctor returns with the results. He took the marrow to the lab and looked at it under the microscope himself. He sat down in a chair beside me and said – you have Leukemia. What!? Leukemia! I didn’t know exactly what Leukemia was, but I knew it wasn’t good.  All of those thoughts were running through my head. “You have cancer”, he said. My family and I looking around at each other dumbfounded. The doctor said I needed to get chemotherapy and I would need a line placed in my chest to get the medications. By Saturday afternoon, May 17, 2003, I had a Hickman Central Line placed in my chest, and the first of seven days of chemotherapy had been completed.

What a whirlwind of 3 days. Never could I have imagined this would happen. I guess being a young 20-year-old in good health was mentally to my advantage. Or, maybe it was my nature. I never worried, I never thought I was going to die, and I took everything as it came. Needless to say, I sent my backpack home with my family, and that semester of nursing school was a no go.  It is amazing how one day can change the rest of your life. One decision, whether good or bad, can also change your life. Know that whether you have a diagnosis of cancer like me, or you make a bad decision in your life, it is not the END of your life. You have the power to make it what you want. I trusted in God, let him take the wheel, and followed him to where I am today. You can make that choice too!