I remember watching "A Walk to Remember" in high school and thinking to myself: "God, a movie about a girl dying from cancer--how cliche." (Ok fine, I totally bawled my eyes out. It was high school. There were hormones and Shane West. Come on, give me a break.) Yet here I am, writing about myself.
I have cancer.
I have Peripheral T-Cell Lymphoma with "immunohistochemical stains that show the infiltrate is positive for CD3, CD4, CD5, CD7, and CD8, but negative for CD30, CD138, CD34, CD56, TDT, and in-situ hybridization for EBV are negative" to be exact. This probably doesn't mean much to the non-medical person, but basically, it's rare, so there isn't a lot of research on treatment because there aren't large populations to test on. Because of this, doctors use traditional treatments for other cancers--kind of a "Do you have a better idea? No? Ok then." situation. This means the survival rate is pretty slim even with optimal conditions.
I know all these things--I'm a nurse, I'm practical. It's almost my job to be a pessimist so that I can anticipate the worst case scenario. Some people think this is negative chi. I think that anticipating the worst helps me to prepare for what my patients--or in this case, I and the people in my life--may need.
I get the numbers are bad. So, if this blog suddenly stops, I guess you know what that means, but until then, who needs a Shane West? I'll build my own fucking telescope.
Love,
Lydia
