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Patient Story |
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Dean Allen Christensen Portland, OR United States male Living with AML for 6 years, 5 months Age: 45 Two years ago I was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML), this journey started in a cold examination room standing half-naked in front of a man who, two minutes earlier, I had never met before. With my wife at my side he broke the news and started to schedule my hospital stay for immediately that night. This journey lasted for two years. After my head cleared from the initial shock, I asked “What does this all mean?” He paused and opened up his magical medical chart and read aloud “Well, for you this means six regiments of chemotherapy, totaling forty liters of poison to be pumped into your bloodstream.” “Because of the complications from the chemo you will spend over eighty nights in the hospital, requiring more than twenty pints of blood to help you stay alive”. “This will go on for seven months and you will be out of work for one year”. “OK”, I said, “so what are my chances of beating this thing?”, “50%-60%” he replied. “That’s not so bad” I said, “I’ll take those odds”. “Oh wait” he responded, “I missed a page.” He went on, “After three months of remission you will relapse”. “You will have to immediately start another regimen of chemotherapy to get back into remission in preparation for a blood stem cell transplant”. “Due to the time needed to locate a donor you will spend another 40 days in and out of the hospital then will have to go through two more rounds of consolidation chemotherapy during which you will obtain an infection in your brain and lung”. In order to help figure out how to move forward you will be required to have over a dozen MRIs leading to a surgery to have a part of your infected lung removed”. “Meanwhile your first donor will back out on you before an amazing woman from the South will be found whose stem cells will be so strong you will engraft in a record three days”. “However the consequence of this will be overwhelming pain to your back, pelvis, and legs sending you into a morphine induced haze until the pain becomes tolerable enough to start to walk”. “Then you will get to go home and start the one year recovery process”. “OK”, I said again, “now what are my odds”. “I’ll give you 30% chance you’ll make it”. I looked at my wife in disbelief as he closed the chart and I started my journey. In hind site this journey has made me a better person. I am thankful to the hundreds, yes hundreds, of people who came to my aid. How does someone make it through this journey, well after gaining strength from family and friends you come to the conclusion that it’s really up to you. You have to want to live; you have to want to take advantage of the fact that you have been given another chance at life. The way I moved forward was by setting goals. Small goals at first: today I will get out of my hospital bed. Today I will walk down the hall. Today I will make one lap around the hospital ward, tomorrow two laps. Today I will go home. What does this all mean and why am I telling you? Each day I continue to set bigger and bigger goals. So, today I will join the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training program to finish my first Olympic distance triathlon. To celebrate my “one year” anniversary since the transplant, I will join over one thousand Oregonians who have also set personal achievement goals and goals to raise money for an organization that has helped thousands of people, including me, in coping with blood cancers. Team in Training has raised over 600 million dollars nationally to go toward breakthrough research for individuals who suffer from this terrible disease, some of that research has allowed me to be here today. I am doing this for myself and for someone else, a young boy named Mathew Stone from La Pine Oregon who also suffers from a blood disorder. Mathew reminds me of why I would shuffle down the hall with my chemo pumps and bags of medications hanging from an IV pole to Dornebecher Children’s Hospital. I would make the trip to watch the children and remind myself that I was fortunate; at least I had lived through childhood without knowing the pain of cancer. No one should have to be told they have cancer; especially a child. I would tear up as a young girl cried to her mother because she had pulled too hard on her catheter inserted into her chest, the same type of catheter that was allowing medications to work their way into my blood. These children gave me inspiration to keep setting goals, to keep striving for life. So I challenge you, what have you done today to help solve the problem? |
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