Today my youngest son graduated from kindergarden. I have shed so many tears this morning, when I saw my two year old boy amongst his buddies, receiving his “diploma”, some sweets and his graduation hat. Three years ago, I was not even sure whether I would be alive in 2018 … and it was uncertain whether I would be able to keep my baby.
Do you know the saying that bad news travel fast? Well, so does chronic disease. Once you are diagnosed, you are constantly aware of symptoms and their influence on your life. And within shortly, you have to adapt to a completely new lifestyle. I try to beat my cancer by being faster. As long as I am strong enough, I want to be one step ahead.
I had tried to bring some kind of balance into my life: The cancer diagnosis was something to worry about and the pregnancy was completely normal. That was how it seemed to be at the beginning. Only a month after I had been given my prognosis, it changed, though. Suddenly, the pregnancy was a concern as well.
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.