Leukemia
Leukemia is a cancer of the blood in which there is a rapid and
uncontrolled release of immature white blood cells called “blasts” into
the blood stream.
The following is an excerpt from Chapter 1 of Alan and Cecilia’s inspirational new book, Climb Back from Cancer. It more fully explains the nature of the disease.
The
nights before our next appointment passed interminably, the days not
much faster. Finally, we were face to face again with Dr. Poon.
“I confirm a diagnosis of acute myeloid leukemia,” he said assuredly. “Without treatment, your prognosis is less than a year.”
The words seemed to hang in the air
of the examining room like sinister vapors twisting weightlessly. They
hardly registered in my brain. They simply hung, like a noose.
I looked over at Cecilia to see how she was taking the news. Incredibly, she was taking notes.
My mind shot out one question. I knew
cancer treatment often involved intensive chemotherapy. That scared me.
So I asked Dr. Poon, “What if I do nothing?”
His answer sticks with me to this day: “You’re screwed.”
Startled by the directness of the
reply, I asked him what treatment options I had. He explained that with
chemotherapy, the chances of putting the leukemia into remission were
about seventy percent. The problem was remission could be only
temporary. If we were able to put my cancer into remission and if a
possible donor match could be found fast enough, I might be able to
receive a bone marrow or adult blood cell transplant that might
“cure” me of the disease. Still, that was a lot of “ifs.”
“So,” he asked, “is the cup half empty or is it half full, Alan? The choice is yours.”
“Is the cup half empty or is it half full? The choice is yours.”
– Dr. Man-Chiu Poon,
Hematologist
Dr.
Man-Chiu Poon, a kind and internationally respected blood specialist
with decades of experience treating cancer, was not being insensitive
by bluntly telling me how serious my situation was. On the contrary, he
had quickly decided how best to communicate with a strong-willed
patient and he had read me perfectly. He had chosen to be brutally
honest -- and for good reason.
Acute leukemia is cancer of the
blood. It is a potentially lethal condition during which there is a
rapid and uncontrolled release of trillions of immature and ineffective
white blood cells called “blasts” from the bone marrow into the blood
stream. These blasts pour into the blood, quickly pushing aside all the
healthy white blood cells used to combat disease, the red blood cells
used to transport oxygen to the tissues and the platelets used to stop
bleeding. A patient with acute leukemia can rapidly hemorrhage because
of a low platelet count, die from infection due to ineffective white
blood cells or get progressively weaker and weaker from anemia because
of an insufficient number of oxygen-carrying red blood cells.
Eighty-five percent of those diagnosed with the condition are dead
within three years. Untreated, the disease is one hundred percent
fatal. You cannot cut leukemia out with surgery or burn it out with
radiation. Once the cancer is in your blood, it is in your whole body.
Each year about 35,000 – about one in 10,000 North Americans -- are
diagnosed with the disease. Now, I was one of them.
Dr. Poon’s biopsy of my bone marrow
had shown that a frightening ninety percent of the cells in my bone
marrow, the main manufacturing plant for blood cells, and forty percent
of the cells in my bloodstream, were blasts. If the number of blasts in
my bloodstream increased much more, or if I hemorrhaged or developed an
infection, it was over for me. Dr. Poon knew he had to get my
attention. With his shoot-from-the-hip, no-holds-barred bedside manner,
he earned my instant respect as a physician who had the guts to tell it
like it was.
“We
need to admit you and begin intensive, around-the-clock chemotherapy
right away,” he said, his intense stare burning the severity of the
situation into my stunned psyche. “Treatment will take at least four
months. Would you like to begin Saturday?”
It was Thursday. With all due
appreciation for Dr. Poon’s lightning-swift attention to my case, this
was still happening too fast. Given more time, I might be able to get
my mind around the fact I had cancer, but double-barreled chemotherapy
of the magnitude he was talking about was another leap altogether, to
say nothing of shutting down my business and my life for at least four
months. Our time away in the mountains had helped us to consider our
options, but nothing could have prepared us for this moment. I was
overwhelmed.
I could not accept that I had cancer
of the blood. I did not want to lose my hair or the contents of my
stomach repeatedly. I did not want to start popping pills like
corner-store candy, experience endless blood transfusions or endure
innumerable invasive bone marrow biopsies. I did not want to lose my
savings, my vocation or my self-identity. I did not want to lose
control, or what I perceived as control, of my whole life as I had
known it. Mostly, I did not want to die; I wanted to live.
To learn more about Climb Back from Cancer, click here
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