I have put off writing this post long enough.
In early 2013, my wife had successfully finished her last round of chemotherapy for Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia. We were told that she should not worry about CLL, even though her mother had died from this. No, we were told that CLL would not kill her.
And, technically, that was correct.
In the end, it was a combination of things.
In the summer of 2018, she told me the lymph node in the side of her neck was growing in size again, much faster than it had previously. And that it felt different to her, this time. We called her doctor. He said not to worry, that her numbers were good last time, and just keep an eye on it.
Keeping an eye on it was easy enough to do at the rate it was growing.
We called again to ask for an earlier appointment. No, her doctor didn’t feel it was necessary. The appointment was only a couple of weeks off at this point; it should be OK.
We got a second opinion from her ear, nose, and throat specialist. He measured the lymph node and sent his report to her cancer doctor. Still, the appointment was not moved.
We got a third opinion from the ER doctor at the very hospital that housed the cancer center. The ER doctor spoke to the cancer doctor, and he told us that they had agreed to move the appointment up and to call the office on Monday morning.
Sometime over the weekend, he changed his mind. The appointment would not be rescheduled.
This became rather important later.
The morning of the appointment had finally arrived. November 8, 2018.
The morning appeared bright and sunny until we went out to my car to start the drive to the clinic. The details of this particular day are out there for anyone to look at, so I won’t go into those now. I will just say that we never got to the appointment.
And because most of the town where the cancer clinic was located was all but burned down that day, by the time her doctor had relocated and was taking patients again, a couple of months had elapsed. Even when they were taking patients again, it took another couple of months for the new diagnoses to be made.
This made it around 4-5 months from the time she noticed the enlarged lymph node that felt different from other times, to lymphoma being diagnosed. I admit that this one fact still bothers me after all this time. Her doctor had been the one to emphasize the importance of communication about any changes in her lymph nodes or other related issues, and he ignored them when they were brought up. My therapist suggests that it is important to let this go. The early diagnosis of cancer is key to a better treatment outcome, but it may not have made a difference in this case. And even if it had, it can’t be changed now.
And considering my wife’s other issues, this probably is correct.
She started the preparation for her new rounds of chemotherapy as soon as we could, once she had the new diagnosis. We were assured that this new diagnosis was a good thing, since they could cure lymphoma. We were told there was an 80% chance of a cure, and with the addition of stem cell infusion after the cancer was in remission, she would have new bone marrow to go with it. She never got there.
Halfway through the pause between first and second treatment, this plan for beating lymphoma ran into a snag.
See- A job not wanted, revisited- Part two
Memory is the Key 