Hi, welcome back to Life Captured. Last week, I shared Part 1 of my diagnosis. Today, we move from the chaotic emergency room to my official hospital room. I also want to introduce a man who changed my life forever.
Meeting Dr. Andersen
Meet Dr. Andersen. I love this man. It is not a romantic love, of course. Instead, it is the deep gratitude you feel for someone who saves your life.
After I was admitted, the ER staff called my primary care doctor, Dr. Ingham. He immediately gave us hope. He told us, “We can cure you.” Then, he highly recommended Dr. Andersen to take over my care.
I still remember the moment Dr. Andersen walked into my room. My first thought was that he looked so young. He seemed fresh out of medical school. Naturally, I started to worry about his experience. I will tell you more about how wrong I was in just a bit.
Soon, the whirlwind began. I was scheduled for a mountain of tests. This included biopsies, CT scans, PET scan, a sonogram, and endless blood draws. Some of those tests hurt, while others didn’t. In total, my first hospital stay lasted a full week. After I was discharged, Dr. Andersen wanted to see me in his office. This upcoming appointment was where we would plan out my actual treatment care. I didn’t have to face it alone. Kevin, our children, and my parents all went to this appointment with me.
Facing the Diagnosis and Tough Questions
During this appointment, I received my full diagnosis. It was Stage 3 Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. Specifically, a sub-type called Primary Mediastinal Large B-cell Lymphoma. The tumor was located right in the middle of my chest, sitting between my lungs and sternum. To give you an idea of its scale, it was roughly the size of an open hand (fingers not spread out), about 10 cm (3.93 in) thick. This was also when they confirmed the news I dreaded: the treatment would cause me to lose (every single) hair on my head and body.
Remembering my initial worries about Dr. Andersen’s young age, I decided to ask him a few direct questions. First, I asked where he had graduated in his class. He looked at me and said he graduated in the top ten (#1!!). Next, I asked if he would be there for the entire duration of my treatments. Finally, I asked him if he was a Christian.
His answers gave me the peace of mind I desperately needed. To reassure me even further, Dr. Andersen gave me his personal cell phone number. He told me to call him directly if I ever ran a fever or experienced any other abnormal symptoms.
Dr. Andersen actually suggested that we get a second opinion, so we did. However, he wanted me to start my very first chemotherapy treatment (R-CHOP) before we went. The original plan was to do as many chemo rounds as it took to reach remission, plus two more. After that, radiation would follow.
Seeking a Second Opinion
For our second opinion, we saw Dr. John Sweetenham. He is a distinguished, internationally renowned oncologist who previously directed major lymphoma and transplant programs. At the time, my specific type of cancer was still very new, but Dr. Sweetenham had actually treated many other patients with my exact diagnosis. Meeting him was the second of many miracles I experienced on this journey. Dr. Andersen was the first.
Dr. Sweetenham recommended a slightly different path: exactly six rounds of chemo, followed by radiation. If those six rounds didn’t get me into remission, we would have to shift to a new treatment plan.
The Rhythm of Chemotherapy
My first treatment began at the end of June. The timing of chemotherapy actually follows a specific cycle. Once a month, you receive the treatment to kill off the bad cancer cells, though it kills the good blood cells too.
However, that first cycle brought its own emergency. A few days before the Fourth of July, my white blood cell count dropped down to a dangerously low level of four, and I developed a fever. Remembering his instructions, I called Dr. Andersen. He told me to head straight to the emergency room, and I was admitted that very night.
It was during this specific hospital stay that I discovered just how much I disliked IVs. I quickly established a strict rule for the medical staff: I would only allow a person two tries to prick me. If they couldn’t get the line in after two attempts, they had to go find someone else.
That first emergency room trip wasn’t an isolated incident. Over the course of my six rounds of treatment, I had to return to the hospital multiple times for that exact same reason: dangerously low cell counts combined with a fever. In total, I was admitted to the hospital four separate times during those six months.
Since there is still so much to share, I’m going to stop here for today. In the next post, I will talk about finishing my chemotherapy, going through radiation, and answering the many questions my friends had about the cancer along the way.
Thank you again for following along on this journey with me!
Yesterday is today’s memory.
Be sure to capture your memory today!
All the best,.
Debra Ellen
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