By the time I began chemotherapy, the cancer had spread from my chest to the lymph nodes in my neck, and across my diaphragm to my spleen. Stage III B Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

Leading up to this diagnosis, I had suffered the following symptoms beginning a year and a half prior to diagnosis: itchiness, night sweats, chest cough/shortness of breath, and enlarged lymph nodes in my neck as well as blood work showing elevated white blood cell counts and low hemoglobin. The symptoms began when I was just three months pregnant with our son, Evan. I’m glad for the timing – had I not gotten pregnant when I did, we may not have him here with us today.

I spent the entire pregnancy very tired yet unable to sleep, having hot flashes and being incredibly itchy, head to toe. Unfortunately, every symptom was seen as an “Oh, you’re pregnant, therefore your hormones are messing with you” situation. I went to numerous doctors all of whom tried their best to help me but misdiagnosed me as having eczema or PUPPPS or just being ‘hormonal’. It wasn’t until my son was 8 months old and my lymph nodes began to swell that I looked into it even more. After a massage therapist told me that the lump in my neck was most certainly NOT a muscle and a dear friend of mine insisted I go and get checked by a doctor, I went into the nearest emergency department (it was a busy Saturday, of course).

The doctor there felt around my neck and armpits then ordered a CT scan and some blood work for that week and told me to follow up with my family doctor as soon as possible. So, that’s what I did. I went into my doctor’s appointment thinking he would assuage any concerns I had about this being anything serious.

Instead, he did a full body lump check (I’m sure there’s some sort of more formal way of describing it), asked me a ton of questions, reviewed the many previous months worth of blood work, and suggested that the elevated white blood cell counts and lymph node swelling could be cancer. Holy shit. Did he just say cancer?! He wasn’t messing around. He referred me to an Ear/Nose/Throat doctor out of St Paul’s Hospital in Vancouver and I got in the following week, post CT scan.

In the first visit with him we concluded we needed a biopsy done of my lymph node as soon as possible in order to determine, on a cellular level, what was happening. It all happened so quickly, really. I was in the following week for the biopsy and I have a lovely scar across the base of my neck to prove it. Fortunately, I have a big, old wrinkle across there so he sliced through that in order to camouflage the scarring within the wrinkle as much as possible. Oh, how humbling! My hubby and I got the results the following week.

This is how it went: I sat in the patient chair so he could check the incision and my hubby sat across from me. The doctor suggested we sit together and I assure him I can handle this and it’s fine for me to sit solo. He says “Okay,” and then says, “It is cancer. Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.” Well, I looked right at Matt and began to tear up. So then I sat my silly butt next to Matt to hear the rest of what the doctor had to say. It did just sound like the teacher in the Charlie Brown cartoon going “Wah, Wah Wah…” He said he’d refer me to the team at the hospital closest to where we live and wished us luck. He also tried to reassure us by letting us know it’s the kind of cancer a certain hockey player had and kicked butt at… Mario Lemieux. Someone to look up to, at least.

Time stood still for a little while. All I could think about was how this would affect my babies, my sweet, innocent, life is so good, babies. Evan was only 8 months old and he needed a mama. Clara was 3 and a half and most certainly needed me – I’m her best friend and haven’t had to leave her, ever, even for work. This would change their world considerably. God, that pained me.

I knew in my heart that I was strong and would do anything, willingly and gladly. I also knew that my husband and I had walked through hell before with the deaths of our first three babies and that we would get through this together. I knew I could depend on my family, namely mom, stepdad, and sisters, for their unwavering and constant support.

My heart broke during that car ride home with Matt. I wept. I held my husband’s hand and just cried. I cried for the time I knew I would have to be without my children, the activities I knew I would have to miss out on with them, the care I wouldn’t be able to give to them because I knew that, for the foreseeable future, my biggest priority had to be saving my own life.

Making dozens of phone calls in the car once we got home was both cathartic and difficult. I got so much support from my nearest and dearest and I’m so grateful to have so many loving people in my life. Once I got my bearings, I went inside my house where my mom, aunt, and two kids were spending time together. My mom hugged me tighter than I have ever been hugged in my life and we cried together. I assured her I was strong and not to worry. Yeah right! A mother not worry when her daughter has cancer? I don’t know what I was thinking! One of the things I’m most grateful for is that my aunt was with my mom when she found out I had cancer. My mom wasn’t alone. Once I hugged my aunt I sat on the couch with my daughter and told her why I was crying. Poor thing, she didn’t quite understand why we were all so teary.

I simply told her that mommy had cancer and what that meant was that I had to go see more doctors and get more medicine before I could feel better. I was crying because I wished I wasn’t sick and that I could just spend all of my time taking care of her and Evan. That is all she ever knew of what cancer meant. I spent a long time putting her to bed that night, reading extra stories and laying beside her, praying, combing my fingers through her beautiful, long, curly, just-like-mine at the time, hair.

I decided to focus on what I did know to be true and not to dwell in the land of unknown fears. What I knew for sure was that the love I have in my heart and that my loved ones have from me is timeless and exceeds the bounds of our humanity. None of us really knows our ‘expiry date’ as one of my great aunts calls it. Therefore, it was time to put into practice the ‘live in the moment’ way of being I knew would bring me the most peace.

I had been unwell for so long and was actually relieved in a way to at least know what I was dealing with. I am fortunate in that I got what is considered a ‘curable’ cancer with effective drugs and plenty of research done on it. I am so grateful for so much – the doctors who tried to help me through the tough pregnancy, the relatively quick diagnosis, and the research and drugs available to help me.

My hope in writing this part of my journey is that it encourages you to get  yourself checked if you think there’s anything going on with your health. Also, for those who have or are going through the cancer journey, to know that you are not alone and that we can all get through this together. I’ve added a link to the bottom of this page in case any of you want more information on Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

Wishing you all the very best in health over the holiday season and upcoming new year,

Tracy

http://www.bccancer.bc.ca/health-info/types-of-cancer/blood-lymphoid/hodgkin-lymphoma