Freedom

July Fourth of last year marks the beginning of hurricane luekmia blowing into our lives. I had been sick on and off for six weeks, including a trip to the ER for IV fluids. I thought I was run down from the rigors of the adoption process and the demands of a non-English-speaking three year old. I’d probably picked up some nasty bug in Russia on one of the two trips I’d made in May.

By July Fourth I had a feeling something more was wrong. I’d stayed in bed most of the week, too sick to get up for more than a little bit at a time. But I wanted to join everyone for the neighborhood block party, so I dragged myself out for a little while. Jon and the kids stayed on, while I went home early.

I remember walking back with my neighbor. She asked if I was still sick. ”I think something is really wrong,” I told her. I made the quip half jokingly, but inside I had a hunch. I just never guessed it would be leukemia. 

A few days later my doctor sent me to a hematologist to follow a suspicious blood test. Within minutes, the hematologist told me he thought I had AML and turned me over for a bone marrow biopsy. He asked me to deliver the sample to the lab, so that they could rush it through. He offered to read the test himself before going home, so he could give me a diagnosis by nightfall.

I’ve never had a harder drive in my life. I couldn’t tell the kids why I was limping or why I could hardly drive to the lab through the haze of tears. By 6:00 PM on that Wednesday, we had our answer. Friday the surgeon inserted my catheter. Monday I checked into the hospital, started chemo and began this battle.  

You’ve read the rest, the stormy and quiet winds of the last year.

When I get most angry about this disease, I rail against what it has taken from me. I have lingering scars and physical issues, emotional stresses and spiritual challenges. But what has been the hardest is the loss of my freedom.

Luekemia has claimed two separate month-long hospital stays, months in the mask, 90 days in-house quarantine and countless days in the clinic. It’s been my job and my hobby. It’s chewed the time I would have given to Jon and the girls, to friends, to my work in Kenya, to writing, to excercise, to anything but being sick. 

I’m coming to grips with that by focusing on what I’ve been given back. My life is different. But in certain ways that’s a gift. I have this new freedom to live with much more gratitude and much less striving.  I’m quicker to see that proverbial glass as half full.

Today is Day 270. My blood test on Wednesday showed normal results, much the same as last month. No cancer cells. I’ll get to stretch my time before my next appointment to six weeks. This morning I rode a bike route, up another big hill, I haven’t ridden since I was really well. And I’m planning to wander down to the block party and stay. What great freedom!

Happy 4th!

Caren

~ by jonmccormack on July 4, 2008.