Sicko

Last year, while going through Hyper CVAD and an auto stem cell transplant, I discovered that I'm stronger than I thought.

This year, while battling my mystery illnesses, I'm discovering that I'm weaker than I thought.

Seeing myself as strong and resilient was a big part of my image during chemo treatment. My goal was to keep the pep in my step and to never look or act like a "sick" person, regardless of how I felt. I was able to throw a baby shower for my god baby on a Saturday afternoon and then drive myself to the evaluation and treatment center at CoH for bloodwork. I found out that my hemoglobin had hit an all-time low of 7.6 (12 is low normal). Who knew? Certainly not me. So I spent my Saturday night getting a transfusion while the staff played disco tunes from the 70's. Memorable evening!

As strange as this may sound, I especially didn't like my doctors and nursing staff to see me as "sick." The nursing staff often joked, "Is she a patient or visitor?" because I always wore comfortable but stylish yoga-inspired clothes, not hospital gowns or pajamas during my stays at Hotel Hope. God forbid that I should look like a patient. I loved it when Dr. Forman said things like, "I thought you would look sick as a result of (fill in the blank), but you don't."

But all of that has changed. A couple weeks ago Dr. Forman saw me for the first time being transported in a wheel chair. I was mortified and half jokingly hid my face from him.

Last week my friend Karen brought me out to the City of Hope. I walked on my own steam to the clinic exam room and then asked one of the staff to let Karen know where I was. She and the nurse came in with the wheel chair. I asked the nurse to please remove the incriminating device, but she explained that they used it to carry Karen's bags. I did not want Dr. Forman to think that I had to be wheeled into the exam room. Finally, I said to Karen, "Please, you have to get that out of here. It's very distressing for me." I look at it as a mocking symbol of my weakness.

Now when I say that I don't want my doctors to view me as "sick," I mean that I don't want to LOOK sick. I think I've been very good at communicating all of my symptoms, but I do it in a clinical way, as though I'm talking about someone else. But with my stick-thin frame and low energy level, I'm not fooling anyone. I no longer look like a "well" person.

After I recovered from my lung damage in January, I felt invincible. After nearly a year of treatment and a successful remission, I felt I could do anything. I pushed myself physically, professionally and personally. I took risks. I was not afraid of failure. I decided to start my own marketing consulting business. I made a life-changing personal decision about a relationship. I pole danced in front of 300 people.

All of that suddenly changed in July, at the onset of this illness. Now I'm plotting how to get up and go to the bathroom without passing out.

I know that there must be a lesson in all of this somewhere for me. I just don't know what it is.