The question most people ask me is how I found out I had cancer. I have two answers for that; the first time and the second time are two very different stories. But we shall start with the first time and work our way to the second.
It was 2003, I had just graduated from high school and was in my first year of attending a local technical college for graphic design that was close to home so I could save money by living with the parents and keeping my job at the grocery store in my hometown. There were two things I wanted to do with my life and that was art and nursing so my plan was to learn more techniques and processes to build up my art skills and then go to nursing school, which could help pay for my art hobby since it is expensive. That way I could do the two things in life that I really cared about: art and helping people. I was really looking forward to this point in time because it meant meeting new people and creating new friendships. For most young adults it meant getting a life of their own and gaining freedom and independence from their parents.
Everything was going great! I loved my classes and my instructors. I had a group of crazy awesome friends and I was working all the time and always on the run.
Since I was always running it never occurred to me that there might be a reason to why I was always so exhausted - I contributed it to working almost full-time and being a full-time student - and why I kept getting huge mouth sores when I previously never had them before. This was all an after thought.
It was October, a couple months into my first semester and I had not been feeling too wonderful for a couple days so I had decided to stay home and miss my classes that day, which also happened to be my day off from work, so I spent my day resting and lounging around the house. The next day I was feeling so much better and I had all this energy that I used to catch up on what I missed the day before. I kind of got the feeling that my instructors felt like I had just skipped the day before because of the energy that I had, but that really wasn't the case. I'm a weird person and I don't like skipping class. I mean, I have to pay for that even if I'm not there so why not go?
The next morning when I woke up and stood up out of bed I noticed that there was this slight pain in my hip and upper thigh area. It wasn't too bad at first so I figured I had slept weird and it would go away. As I started getting ready for my day, getting ready for classes and then making sure I had everything with me for work after class, the pain gradually increased. At this point it still wasn't too bad so I hoped in my car and drove to school. Once I arrived at school I noticed the pain to be elevated even more but what does one do with this type of pain? I went to my first set of classes and during our little lunch break that we got I was telling some of my friends about the pain because we had to go up and down stairs to get from our classrooms to the cafeteria area and I was having a really hard time because my leg hurt so much. They kept telling me that I should go to the school nurse and see what it could be, but my logic was that there wasn't anything she could do anyways so it would be a waste of time, so I didn't go. I sat through another class and then made my way out to my car in the parking lot. My leg was so much worse but all I kept thinking was that I just have to make it through my work shift.
I felt like the walk to my car took hours and I was only parked three rows away from the door! However, that was nothing compared to the walk into work. By the time I pulled up to work my leg was even worse and I just couldn't figure out why. I could barely get it out of the car. Looking back I can't help but wonder why on earth I even went in. But I really hated calling in sick, yet it would have been the better because it took me 30 minutes to get from my car to the break room. Good thing I got there early! I should have taken the remarks that people said to me a little more seriously as I walked in. Apparently I looked like crap, which worked since I felt like it at that time and I could barely walk. I figured that I would be fine because I started work during a not so busy time.
I made it about an hour before I had to find the manager and I was almost in tears because I was in so much pain. With watery eyes I walked up, stood beside her as she worked on something at the counter, and asked if I could go home. Once I asked that she looked at me because I had never asked to go home from work before and had only called in sick a couple of times, so she knew something was up and upon looking at me knew that I needed to go home. It took me an hour and a half to get to my car and another 10 minutes to get into it because it just hurt to move my leg in any way. Through the sobs and gritting of teeth I grabbed my leg lifted it into my car and drove home, which I more than likely should not have been driving since; A) I couldn't stop crying, and B) I was using the leg that was in all this pain!
Once I got home it took me forever to walk from my car into the house and of course my house had a bunch of stairs that no matter which door you used there was a flight of stairs in front of it, which at that point in time was my nightmare. I had to sit on my butt and keep my right leg straight and just my left leg to push me up each step. Once I got inside I sat down in the big comfy recliner and waited for my mom to get home, because I was a mess and I did not know what to do. What I did know was that I was in so much pain, SOOOO much pain. Anyone who has been in pain and has seen a doctor for it knows about those pain scale rating charts so you can rate your pain from 0-10, with zero being nothing and 10 being the worse pain you have ever had. This chart meant squat. There was no way to rate this kind of pain anymore.
Once my mom got home and noticed my car out front and that I was not at work she came inside, saw me in the living room draped across this huge chair and asked me why I wasn't at work while she put her stuff down. After not answering her and her then hearing my sobs, she asked me what was wrong. Somehow I managed to stop gritting my teeth enough to tell her about my leg and the pain. Since she was thinking it could have been a pinched nerve based on my description we slowly and painfully made our way to a chiropractor, which didn't help. After that to the emergency room where this big bulky male nurse had to pick me up out of the car to bring me inside because there was no way I was getting out again.
After this point there are a lot of things that I don't quite remember. What I do remember is that they would not give me anything for the pain until they drew blood and did a CT Scan. I remember laying on those uncomfortable ER beds staring at the pattern on the draw curtain trying to focus on something other than pain. At the same time I was so scared because I had no idea what was going on or what would cause this sort of pain in such a weird area. Then the morphine kicked in and I kind of drifted in and out waiting for the doctors to tell us something. Once the doctors had some results they took my mom out of the room and she already looked so worried to begin with. Then she came back into the room and I could tell she was crying but I didn't know why. I had no idea what was going on for the longest time. It was only after admitting me to the hospital and arranging for a transfer to Minneapolis when a consulting physician came into my room and examined my skin, asked me a couple of questions, and then told me that they suspected that I had some form of leukemia and they were going to send to Minneapolis for more testing and opinions from more experienced doctors in blood related cancers. When she was examining my skin she was looking for bruises and petechiae (tiny, pin sized red spots caused by broken capillary blood vessels that occur because of a low platelet count). I had thought the bruises were from work and I had never noticed the tiny dots. One of the questions that she had asked was about mouth sores because those can be a symptom as well. Now I knew why I kept getting these annoying sores in my mouth.
I am an optimist so I would have never put all of the symptoms together and think there was something wrong. I am more like one of those people who would use any excuse to avoid having to see a doctor. I wasn't and still am not a big fan of doctors and this experience did not help change how I felt about them. Mostly it increased my dislike for them, but that is a story for another time.
After being admitted to Fairview Medical Center in Minneapolis, the diagnosis was confirmed and the kind of cancer, as well as the type and subtype were all explained to me. Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML), which at the time was more dominant in old people/over the age of 60 or so. However, all I really heard was leukemia and cancer with a bunch of mumbo jumbo. Lets be honest, those words are terrifying at any age, but I just turned 19 not long before all of this and I barely knew anyone with cancer except for one person from my high school class. I was terrified but I was also mesmerized by this female Irish fellow doctor with this beautiful accent and gorgeous blue eyes. I could never seem to listen to what she was saying - I love accents, who doesn't? Instead I just listened to how she said things. Probably not the best idea, but I am sure I am not the only one who has had this happen to them. Thank goodness Mom was there to listen and then fill me in afterward. Plus, I was super drugged up so I would not have been paying attention to the meaning behind what she was saying. Lets be real here.
To be continued...
Lotza love!
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