I was truly exotic, statistically far too young to have CLL, pregnant and a patient with an interesting combination of genetically mutated lymphoid cells. The obstetrician seemed to refer to the hematologists and vice versa continuously for future decisions and prognosis. I was getting tired of all their referring.
If you are puzzled after having read the story of my diagnosis so far, I can assure you that we did not have a clue either after having received this new information. Of course, I started to do some maths and calculated that I had about eight more years to live. I would not reach 50, but I could keep the baby. Could I? We knew we had to see an obstetrician as soon as possible.
I went to see the doctor who had told me about my diagnosis in the first place two months ago. Again, I had to wait for hours. This time, I was better prepared. I came with an old friend. It was such an absurd situation….I was the only young (and pregnant) person in the waiting room. I was hoping to hear how much time I had left to live.
By shaping my future actively I felt I had lost a bit of the victim status that cancer patients usually have. I was thinking about my last will and my patient decree. I really needed to know how I would deal with things in advance, because I had my children to think of. I needed to know the truth and I needed to be realistic. It was then that another unexpected disaster struck…
My body felt alienated. I had to force myself to take care of it, but I felt obliged because of my pregnancy. Meditation helped a bit, though sleep was my preferred escape. I decided to stop bothering about the consequences of each and everything I did. Taking all the risks into account would mean ceasing to exist. And if something “caused cancer”,… well; I already had cancer, so what?