Saturday, November 18, 2000

A Test Of Endurance: Part 1

If someone told me a year ago that I would lose 4 very special friends, be diagnosed with Cancer, face death, and come face to face with uncertainty, I would not have believed them. My plans didn't include any of these terrible situations.

On June 22, 1999 after a routine check-up and biopsy my doctor told me I had Cancer. I was 17 years old; in my mind it was impossible.

It took me two weeks of denial before I came to terms with the truth of it all. It took me another week filled with tears and extreme fear before I pulled myself together. Then the fight inside me kicked in. I drew on my stubbornness, and competitiveness to see me through. I decided if I was going to go I would do it fighting all the way.

The original doctor told me I had three months to live, his words angered me. I don't spend much time being angry because to me it is wasted energy. I'm a positive type person, so I searched for the positive even when the things around me all appeared to be negative.

My family was in the process of moving. As soon as we settled in, with my mom's help and constant support we searched for a Cancer Specialist to begin the road of uncertainty. That was when I met the man who would change my life in many, many ways. Doc John became not only my Cancer Specialist, but my friend, confidant, teacher, coach, and most of all, my lifeline.

The first thing I told him when we met was not to ever tell me how much life was left in me. His answer will remain with me forever. Very calmly and seriously he said, "Kaycee, I am not the Keeper of Time."

This was the beginning of the fight for my life, and changes that often times I only thought I was prepared to handle. Cancer is not a fair opponent. It doesn't fight honorably. It doesn't care how old you are, how strong you are, how independent. It attacks and destroys without provocation.

I knew I didn't deserve this, no one does. I had to focus my attention on my own strength. I had to lean heavily on the ones I loved. I had to sacrifice, trust and pray without questioning the reasons for acquiring this horrible disease. It was a moment by moment roller coaster ride.

I went from being a strong, vibrant person to rendered weak and feeling unsure. My body was subjected to massive amounts of Chemo and radiation treatments. This made me extremely sick and it was in these moments that I would lose sight of myself. I would sit on the floor hugging my knees, praying for it to end. My brother's dog, Buddy, would come and lay his head on my lap as if to absorb my discomfort. I would pet him and think, "He understands, he feels my pain too."

But somehow through it all I always managed to find the brightness. It didn't matter how, I just did it because no one else was going to do it for me. I had plenty of help along the way. My true friends were the greatest. Those who weren't deserted me. I don't hold this against them. Their way of handling it was to walk away. I can respect that.

Bruce: ...with all the given information we can conclude this patient has not fallen into the normal process of IS recovery, she shows signs of being in blast crisis and therefore survival prediction is 2 months or less.

My Doctor: Dr... (controlled anger would be a good description of the tone of his voice - the room went deadly quiet)

Me: *addressed to Bruce* Whoa... wait a minute! Where on my chart does it ask you to insert your opinion on my prognosis? And when did I, the patient, ask you to predict my death? You walk in here and presume to know someone by reading information on a chart and then have the nerve to give an opinion without consideration of all the facts. Did it call for your conclusion?

Bruce: *he stares at the floor* No, it did not.

Me: Please give me some respect by at least looking me in the eye. *he finally complies* Let me tell you a few things you don't know about me. I'm not a quitter. I'm a fighter. I've fought this disease over 17 months. I was told I had 3 months to live back in June 1999. What if I'd believed that prediction? What if I wasn't as strong as I am and what you told me made me just give up? What if I refused treatment because of it?

Bruce: I would have done you an injustice.

Me: You're damn right you would've. Patients aren't just notes on a chart. What you could have concluded from what you read is, "Hey this 19 year old patient has been through a lot of struggle, and here she is, still fighting, still alive, still with a great desire to beat the odds." That's what you should have concluded. It's not always in black and white. A doctor has to have some diplomacy, as well as seeing the facts.

My Doctor: Kaycee, is there any other point you'd like to share?

Me: Actually, yes there is. Bruce wasn't correct. I'm not in Blast crisis. If I was his conclusion would've been pretty accurate, even if I didn't ask for the information. He made an assumption and he was wrong. With someone else you might have crushed their spirit, taken away their will to live.