Start spreading the news

I’m writing one email to send blind-copy to friends who may not know yet. I’ve told family of course and friends that I see on a regular basis . . . .but now I figure I should tell folks I don’t see as often because I figure you’d want to know too.

How’s that for a dramatic opening? Well the news isn’t great. I start chemo therapy this Tuesday as I was recently diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Diffuse Large B cell lymphoma (there are so many forms of cancer, I guess someone had to come up with a fancy name).

Physically things haven’t been right since Spring (I’ll skip the details). And seemed to be getting worse when I went to the doctor about two weeks ago. She ordered a CAT scan and then ordered me to hospital immediately. A blood clot was detected. The scan showed other abnormalities (fibroids? tumors?).

And a slew of more tests were run, more CATs, two MRIs, X-rays, blood tests, MUGA (to test the strength of the heart), a tissue biopsy and a bone marrow biopsy, and last test was a PET scan, I think that’s been it . . . that’s been enough! Oh wait, I had a port surgically put in my chest on Friday (that’s to make IVs and injections easier to take without getting needle stuck all of the time).

I still don’t know the stage, but the good news: the blood clots are not clots (so no more blood thinner for me . . . .it was creepy giving myself belly injections twice a day, so I can somewhat relate to diabetics with that dreadful chore).

The lymph nodes in my back and left side are enlarged and there’s a mass growing between my uterus and right ovary. I look pregnant. Those phony blood clots are actually part of the alien growths.

Chemo at this point will be a cocktail of 4 drugs (R-CHOP) put in through the port. I’m to have 8 sessions, each lasting 6 hours, done once a week with 3 weeks in between. And hopefully the ordeal will be complete by mid-late March.

Yes I’ll lose my curls, suffer nausea and fatigue . . . all the fun stuff. No one in my family ever had cancer, so I finally get to be the first at something. And as weird and scary as all this seems, I am looking forward to the chemo shrinking those tumors and reducing the pain . . . .bring it on and lets get this over with.

So there you have it. One request: no phone calls please. Email if you wish, but calls, as much as I appreciate the concern and well wishes, and I like talking to friends, it’s overwhelming. When I came home after the first hospital stay I seemed to get non-stop calls for the next two days . . . .it was exhausting.

I’m sorry to deliver bad news (unless you really don’t like me). I don’t like upsetting my friends. But if the tables were turned, I’d want to know.

Paul and my daughters are giving me wonderful support . . . .all I had to do was ask. And emotionally I’m good too, seeing this as one friend going through breast cancer has said to me over and over . . . these are just moments and moments pass.

Staying strong and optimistic.