Thursday, June 14, 2012

What a G


At the doctor's office today, a student was shadowing my oncologist. Before coming in to see me, they discussed my case and I just happened to be in the room right next to them. It was pretty weird hearing him summarize the entire case from the beginning until now. Here's what he said to the student:

"Our next patient is a young woman with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia who I diagnosed about 2 and a half years ago. She received what we call the hyper-CVAD chemotherapy regimen and she handled it very poorly requiring us to stop the treatment halfway. She experienced extreme toxicity and remained in the ICU for quite a bit of time and developed an uncommon complication that patients sometimes experience with chemotherapy called, Reversible Posterior Leukoencephalopathy Syndrome (PRES), meaning swelling of the brain causing temporary seizures and brain damage. Over the next few months after that, she recovered, but couldn't handle maintenance chemotherapy either. She did go into full remission following the first cycle of chemo and did well between the critical illness following the initial treatment and the relapse. The relapse required a bone marrow transplant, but her insurance company required her to choose from either Johns Hopkins or VCU for the procedure. The problems with the seizures due to the Reversible Posterior Leukoencephalopathy were seen recently with another trip to the ICU post the transplant process which included full body radiation as well as high dose chemotherapy generating similar toxicity as the first round of treatment. She was at Hopkins for the last few months, but now is back in the area and we are following her closely. After the initial transplant protocol, there were problems such as GVH, CMV, liver damage, etc. She requires blood transfusions due to the medications she is on for these conditions as they reduce the ability for the marrow to produce new blood cells as well as neupogen shots for the neutropenia. The comprehensive metabolic panel (CMP) pretty much looks normal now, with the liver healing over time. Let's see how she is feeling today."

Hearing such a concise summary of all that has happened since the beginning gave me an outsider's perspective that I never get. It's always me reflecting on my own condition. I wondered what the student thought before he came into the room to see me with the doctor and what he expected my present condition to be. He probably thought I would be in a wheelchair or extremely weak where I required a lot of help walking and definitely not expecting me to say that I'm doing well when the doctor asked, "how are you doing?" I could sense some degree of relief in his mannerisms after our interaction, but he entered with a surprised look on his face. Anyone who hears the details written above or in my medical records would not expect me to be where I am today.

I can imagine what they think in their head once they put together a picture of all that's written above. That picture is not what I look like. It's not at all what I feel. I got lucky to have survived the worst, but after that, I did everything I could to undo the damage, because I wanted my old life back and no one was going to just hand it to me. Not even the passing of time. These students read about me, and then they come see me, and when I walk away, they must think, "wow, what a G!"

An article explaining PRES:

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