I made the decision about two years ago -- scroll back here if you need to remember. Making the decision to stay alive was easy considering the alternative. Starting the process was just a bit harder but accumulating the momentum to sustain the effort to successfully reach my set goals was slower, harder and more complicated than I thought it would be. When the process began, I knew it was going to be the most important battle of my life.
At the time:
§ I was taking 26 different medicines every day – eight of which were labeled as controlled substances.
§ I weighed 332 pounds, making me severely morbidly obese.
§ My borderline case of type II diabetes had definitely crossed the border and I had to give myself two or three injections of insulin each day to stay conscious.
§ Carrying around all that fat 24/7 also spiked my blood pressure, which doctors fought by adding more blood pressure medicines and doubling the doses of meds I already was taking.
§ A few chronic wounds on my lower legs got better and then got worse on a constant, frustrating basis. Then several painful wounds on my left leg merged, were infected, became very painful and were the focus of some frenzied debates on how to treat it – reaching the point of how long it would be before part of the leg would be amputated.
§ Then it became clear that my leukemia was out-of-control. I had huge tumors growing throughout my body, my immune system was practically non-existent and my blood chemistry looked more like wastewater than blood.
Therefore, I decided to get a gastric lap band installed and undergo innovative chemotherapy to stop the cancer.
A year ago next week, I was taken from my doctor’s office by ambulance to a hospital isolation room. One specialist looked at the results of my latest blood test and told me that it appeared I was getting “ready to check out.”
Earlier today (Wednesday, March 24, 2010), I had a new blood test. If you have never seen the results of one printed out, they consist of three columns. On the far right is the range of numbers that would be considered “normal results. On far left are the actual results of your test that fall in that “normal” range. And the middle column consists of all the results that might be a problem. Let’s cut to the chase: For the first time that I can remember, there were no results in that middle column.
I was at the hospital to receive my usual dose of gamma globulin (cells harvested from healthy donors of antibodies that my own compromised immune system can’t produce anymore) and used the opportunity to visit my oncologist. He liked the blood test results. He liked my weight. He liked my color. He liked the fact that there is absolutely no sign that there were ever any wounds on my legs. And, after a very probing search for them, he liked the fact that he could not find a single swollen lymph node on my body.
So here’s my latest medical report:
§ I’ve lost 120 pounds
§ I have no sign of diabetes
§ My leg wounds are all completely healed.
§ They don’t call it that anymore, but if they did, they would say my cancer is “CR” -- or in complete remission, which definitely sounds better than the politically correct phrase “progression-free survival.”
Nuff said. Thanks to all responsible. You know who you are.
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