A blog post I never imagined writing, let alone thinking would be my reality at age 38. Life can be really unreal sometimes and the past month has been the biggest example of how your life can change in a moment.
On December 15th, on my way to pick up my toddler from daycare I swung into the local imaging office to get a quick chest x-ray to rule out walking pneumonia. The week prior, I had been dealing with a virus which brought with it an evening fever, night sweats, increased heart rate, and overall fatigue. My Oura ring that I wear every night to monitor my biometrics was showing “major signs” of strain on my body like elevated heart rate, increased temperature, etc. I took those symptoms seriously and reached out to my PCP (my doctor) via a messaging portal. She responded by asking me to get a blood draw and a few other tests to rule out RSV and mono. After she got those results she informed me that I was anemic and needed to get back on my multivitamin and an additional iron pill. She asked me afterwards to get another blood draw on Monday and an x-ray. After the x-ray while I was still driving home my PCP called me and asked me if I was with my husband and if I was sitting down. Her demeanor scared me and I realized quickly something was terribly wrong and we weren’t going to be discussing walking pneumonia.
She came out with the information quickly. There was a mass in my chest that showed up on the x-ray and she had already ordered CT scans to be done the next day. She believed it was lymphoma or thyroid cancer. In true optimistic fashion I asked her if it was possibly something benign? I couldn’t possibly have a cancerous mass in my chest, right? Wouldn’t I be able to tell? I cried that night, I cried the next day. A. LOT. I don’t cry very often and I think I shed more tears in 24 hours than I did in 10 years. I was as depressed as my personality type is able to be depressed and medically anxious. I knew I had no control over the situation other than doing what I could to get more answers for myself, my doctor(s), and my family. So I got more scans that week and found out that the “mass” in my chest was enlarged lymph nodes, I also had an enlarged lymph node in my neck which they wanted me to biopsy.
Five days after that initial x-ray, my friend brought me to the ER about an hour and a half drive away where a doctor friend of my oncologist was working on-call. He was prepared to see me and do the biopsy that Saturday and rush the results for a diagnosis early the next week. We waited in the ER for half the day and my biopsy was quick and painless and my husband and kids picked me up to take me to a family Christmas party in Seattle. As promised, the results of the biopsy were rushed and I got a diagnosis the next week, two days before Christmas…
Confirmed. Classic Hodgkin’s Lymphoma stage 2B.
I sat there during the most magical time of the year numb to the news. Like most people, I went into operational mode, suppressed my feelings to get through the holidays and also navigate my new reality that still doesn’t actually feel real. Echocardiogram, pulmonary function test, PET scan, and port placement surgery later… it was only another week and half post diagnosis and I was already “ready” for chemo. In this timeframe we decided to get a second opinion from Fred Hutch/UW Medical in Seattle. The second opinion took some extra time so chemo got pushed back a week which was a welcomed delay to help me go from pure navigation mode to letting the reality of not traveling, possibly losing my hair, and the toll chemo might take on my body – try to sink in.
I can confidently say it still hasn’t sunk in. I think it will be a gradual process – moment by moment, decision by decision, treatment, and recovery cycle until I am “done”, cured, and in remission. Even then, the new normal is something that will take getting use to. No one is safe from the possibility of a cancer diagnosis and I don’t say that to scare you. I say that to normalize my experience, to validate my feelings, to reassure myself I did nothing to deserve this and neither does anyone else. I can’t feel sorry for myself, but I can look at my life in a big picture and visualize this as the tiniest blip in the grand scheme of things. I am considered “lucky” to say this is a very curable cancer but honestly, I don’t know what the next four months will look like for me (and beyond).
What were my symptoms? Until I got that virus (which did go away after a week) I didn’t have any symptoms except “fatigue” which I thought was normal as a full time working mom with a three year old. I had night sweats and a fever during the week I had my virus but that went away. Well maybe the night sweats stayed but were a lot more mild. No itching which is a common symptom of Lymphoma… so, yea, pretty symptom-less.
My support system has been amazing. They have figured out the most simple and unique ways to show their support with thoughtful gifts, emails, visits, and messages. Some showed up with flowers and coffee, or sent me gift boxes of curated items for healing, books, tea, lotion, chemo port covers, to full chemo kits, Instacart gift cards, masks, and more… you know who you are and I am so so incredibly grateful for you. Sincerely thank you for making the past few weeks not only more manageable but for making me feel so loved in the midst of it all.
With Kendall’s full support I will share what I am able to on The Salty Exchange. Be prepared for me to share some helpful reels and information that I appreciated when I was first diagnosed. In the meantime, I welcome any and all prayers, good thoughts, and well wishes.
My journey with cancer isn’t just beginning now that I’ve officially started chemo, it actually began a month ago when my doctor first saw something on my x-ray. An x-ray that probably saved my life.
With so much love,
Shari
The Salty Exchange 