My Story - Part I

My Massey story began 10 years ago.  There is a short version that I tell when I speak, or in emails I circulate to fundraise most years.  Theres an even more condensed version I tell those I run into around town or new friends.  But in reality, there is much more to it than what makes it into those brief sketches.  Here is the beginning:

As a little girl, I came down with strep throat all.the.time.  I remember several Halloweens that involved trips to the doctor just before trick-or-treating for a strep culture.  But it had been awhile since my last bout when I came down with a lovely case of strep in July of 2002.  I saw my doctor and was given a course of penicilln - just as I had as a kid.

But this time, things didnt play out as they had in the past.  After taking the first dose of penecilin, I went to bed, only to wake up covered in angry, red hives.  It turns out that I had developed a drug allergy over the years.  I called my doctor who had me stop taking the medicine - he was fairly certain that what I had already gotten into me would be enough to get rid of the strep.  And he was right.  The hives healed and my sickness was gone.

Except for one lymph node on the right side of my neck.  That guy stayed huge.  He didnt hurt.  But when I touched my neck - he was definitely there.

For months I followed up with my doctor.  Literally.  Over the span of seven months we would try various antibiotics, which would reduce the size of the node, only to have it grow again the moment a course was finished.  Over and over - for at least 10 rounds of antibiotics, we played this game.  He was fairly certain it was a colony of strep that had housed itself there.  I had no reason not to agree with him. 

But someone did.  One day my nurse practitioner asked him: "Do you think this could be something else?  Remember we had that one young patient . . ."  Before she could finish, he cut her off with a curt: "Its not that."

I think she knew then what was really going on.  But I had no idea.

*   *   *

February came and I headed west to backpack my way through some of our national parks.  I noticed the climb through the Grand Canyon was harder than I expected, but chalked it up to altitude.  And when making my way through Arches left me fatigued, I figured I hadn't hydrated enough.  So I was sure to keep several full bottles of water with me as I ventured into the back country of Canyonlands National Park.  On day two, one of those bottles fell into a small canyon.  And as my partner climbed down to fetch it, I set the timer on my camera to capture this moment:

As I stood from taking this picture, I reached to scratch my neck.  And I found it wasn't only the one lymph node that was swollen - now there were two.

*   *   *

Fast forward two weeks and I am waiting in my ENT's office for the results of a biopsy.  He had elected to do surgery to remove one of the lymph nodes in my neck in order to get the best sample.  I dont remember the entire conversation.  But I do remember him telling me that the results indicated that "it was malignant".  Demonstrating my complete lack of knowledge about cancer, I smiled and replied, "thats the good one, right?"  The fact that he handed me a list of five oncologists' names told me I was wrong.

I was 23.  And I had cancer.