May 19, 2025May 19, 2025 Amy

The Big Reveal

Canada

I’ve been avoiding writing and publishing this post for a very long time. I’m sick. I’m very sick. I have leukaemia. My body is ill and it’s been an arduous journey with several close calls, low moments, difficult periods, and dark times. There have also been moments of kindness, gratitude, joy, tenderness, caring, and hope. That’s what keeps me going. That’s what I cling on to.

There is also some shame and fear associated with announcing my diagnosis. I’m not sure why? There is no explanation as to « why me? » One little cell copied wrong and then started to reproduce like crazy. It’s just bad luck. I’ll post this now, and later on fill you in with the ups and downs of the past nine months. Things are changing so quickly. I joke that my full time my job right now is to learn medical terms and go to hospital appointments. The brain fog and physical fatigue make it hard for me to focus at times. I am forced to live in the moment. Live one day at a time. I’m trying to make the best of a bad situation. It’s not always easy. 

Last week, the day after my 44th birthday, and five days before I was scheduled to go into the Cedars Cancer Center at the MUHC for a life saving bone marrow transplant (BMT), after induction chemotherapy while in intensive care, three rounds of consolidation chemotherapy and a multitude of injections blood tests and pills – we found out that the cancer had relapsed, it was back. I have acute myeloid leukaemia (AML.) Does it have me? It certainly does not own me!) Which is a rare and form of agressive blood cancer. I still dont quite get it, my blood, the arteries and veins coursing through my body, the blood which supposedly nourishing my organs, is SICK. The bad cells are reproducing rapidly and trying to take over. It requires a lot of energy (and medicine) for my body to fight them off. But we’ll get there.

I’m now at HMR and participating in a clinical trial -testing a new drug- that targets the specific gene mutation of the AML. I won’t bog you down with the details (I may get them wrong.) You can find more info here and on Mr. Google. 

I don’t want to look at the statistics. They chances are scary and can be worrisome. But at this present moment, I’m not a number nor a statistic, I am a patient. I am me. I’m not putting my head into the sand like an ostrich.) Instead I am choosing to look on the bright side. My glass is half full. My story is unique. Later on, in the future, I’ll be lumped into the odds. My happy ending.

I see my whole fight against cancer as divided into three parts: science, attitude, and spiritual. 

Science

I trust science and my medical team immensely. They are doing their best with the information they have at any given time. Science is not as perfect or finite as we might imagine. There are many grey areas. There are so many variables to take into account. Each person’s body reacts in their unique way. The most helpful nurses, doctors, and pharmacist are the ones that take the time to listen, then patiently answer my questions, and break down the information into small chunks using words that I can understand. I like to visualize what it going on in my body and how the medication is fixing what is broken.

Attitude

I don’t have much control over anything at the present moment. Do we ever, really? This is very very hard for Ms. Amy the teacher, mother, planner, etc. to accept and embrace. But I CAN control my attitude and my emotions. I could choose to lie in bed, wallow and give up. Or I can choose to take care of myself. Do the things that I enjoy when I can (walk, socialize, read, write, etc.) and learn new techniques to adapt to my physical realities (meditation, reiki, art therapy, sound baths, etc.)

Spiritual

The third part is what’s left, the other. The science that we do not yet know. The things I cannot control. I give release them. I trust in the spiritual: a higher essence that has a plan not just for me but for all of us. Through all this, I remain hopeful. When people comment on this, I reply humbly that I don’t feel like I have any other choice. It’s just the best option. I’ve no idea why I’m on this path, this difficult, and painful journey. 

I wish to share the many roadblocks and precious memories from the past few months with your dear reader, when I’m ready. And I feel strongly that there is definitely something for me to gain, to learn, and to grow from all this.

To be continued…