Whenever I come across a new blog detailing the writer's personal experience as a cancer patient, particularly a Hodgkin's patient, I'm completely fascinated. Camaraderie, I guess. It's really important to note that young adults are often diagnosed during later stages of cancer thanks to limited health care coverage and a diluted belief that in your 20s and 30s you are the picture of good health: two major factors in my late diagnosis. So, a little history dating back to my first sign of symptoms:
May 2008: I break out in an inexplicable bout of hives during a Cubs game and attribute it to the beer I'm drinking. (Sorry, Old Style, wasn't your fault.) After several days of rashes seemingly induced by alcohol, I visit an allergist. Her diagnosis? There's nothing wrong with me.
June 2009: I discover a bump under my arm. A PA at a Chicago health clinic diagnoses it as an ingrown hair and dismisses it. Meanwhile, blood work indicates that I have anemia. No wonder I was so tired...I start taking iron pills twice a day and am advised to come back for more blood work in October.
July 2009: The night sweats begin. I'm convinced it's because I need a haircut.
August 2009: Returning to dance after a few weeks off, I wake up one night with a shooting pain in my rib cage. A visit to my massage therapist begins to relieve this discomfort, but the bizarre "injury" remains.
September 2009: I begin to feel flu-like symptoms: body aches, chills, fatigue. I also notice a dry cough and strange tension in my esophagus. Let the web-based diagnosis begin!
October 2009: Fatigue worsens. I attribute this to my increasingly busy and stressful teaching schedule. As the dry cough continues, I finally visit an urgent care clinic. I'm told that it's either walking pneumonia or bronchitis. I can pay for x-rays to diagnose pneumonia or take the Zithromax that they'd prescribe regardless. I opt to save a couple hundred dollars and forgo the x-rays.
My dad suggests I visit his doctor for a baseline physical. Preferring a female doctor, I see another member of his medical group who lazily suggests I take an additional iron pill each day. I discover that I've lost nearly 15 pounds since being weighed over the summer and begin wearing make-up to cover my increasingly pale, sallow complexion while teaching.
November 2009: Everyone around me learns to diagnose on command: allergies! asthma! Celiacs! oh my! Dad calls regularly to supervise urinalysis. No diabetes here. I barely make it through Zephyr's fall concert and think it means I'm losing my passion for dance.
It gets exciting, so I'll switch to dates:
December 8 2009: I return to the urgent care clinic concerned that the "bronchitis" has not cleared up. After listening to my lungs, the doctor confirms a mild case, but with an ultra-speedy resting heart rate (120bpm), fever and continuing weight loss, she insists I see my primary care doctor immediately.
December 9 2009: I take my first day off of Zephyr rehearsal in five seasons. Furious with the treatment I received from his doctor's partner in October, my dad gets me in to see his doctor the next day.
December 14 2009: My new primary care provider urgently makes an appointment for me to see a hematologist at Kellogg Cancer Center the next day after extensive blood tests indicate abnormalities in my hemoglobin, red blood cells, albumin level and sedimentation rate.
December 15 2009: A visit to the hematologist and much needed x-rays indicate that I have severe pneumonia and enlarged lymph nodes in my chest. I'm admitted to Evanston Hospital immediately. The array of testing begins with a late night CT scan. Barium: most. vile. liquid. ever.
December 16 2009: My newest doctor voices her suspicions: Hodgkin's lymphoma in my chest, abdomen and lungs. She performs a bone marrow aspiration to an audience of residents to determine whether the suspected cancer has spread to my bone marrow. Later that afternoon doctors perform a lymph node biopsy but are not able to get a usable sample.
December 17 2009: Out goes the lymph node. Now I just wait for test results to come back on Saturday. A second attempt at a blood transfusion is successful. Exit ghost-like pallor and new knowledge of my blood type (o-negative btw).
December 19 2009: It's official. Within four hours of confirmation I receive chemo dose #1 of 12. I'm prescribed 12 doses (6 cycles) of ABVD chemotherapy over the next five months.
And there you have it. Notice how many times I ignored or misdiagnosed new symptoms. Stay tuned for the next chapter...
