As I said in my last entry, I am thankful for cancer
research. No worries, this is not
an entirely narcissistic comment.
Yes, the presence of the cancer research field provides me with a
job. But more importantly, I would
not physically be present to write this blog if advanced cancer treatments hadn’t saved my life. And yes, that is a little
melodramatic . . . .I apologize.
When
I picked up this book in Chapters and
decided I needed to read it, this urge was purely to fill a scientific craving. However, within the first pages, The Emperor of all Maladies quickly
became personal. Throughout this
book, Mukherjee follows one patient, a woman named Carla who was diagnosed as
an adult with childhood leukemia, or acute lymphoblastic leukemia. The story struck home. I, as a child, was also diagnosed with leukemia
– in my case, the more common leukemia in adults, acute myeloid leukemia. Through Mukherjee’s words, I felt her
bone marrow aspirations, I endured her chemo treatments, I understood the
dramatic emotional and physical changes of her life, I believed that one
patient impacts their physicians on an emotional level. Carla’s story was my story.
Apart
from my connection with Carla’s journey of survival, the story of leukemia and
leukemia research reinforced how blessed I am to be alive and functioning as most
other young woman. If I were born
5-10yrs earlier, my doctors might not have shown such optimism in my prognosis
and my parents may have prepared to bury their child. The history of leukemia research, particularly in children,
is truly astounding. In the late
50’s and early 60’s, physicians including Sidney Farber discovered new
chemotherapeutic agents (thanks to WWII) and in their desperate attempts to
test their drug, experimented on children relegated to the “ghost floor" of
the hospital where they waited to die.
Miraculously, these toxic agents improved the lives of some children. With years of experimentation following, along with the discovery of various chemotherapeutic agents (I’ll spare you the scientific details
about how these work and their differences), an effective treatment for leukemia
had not been worked out until the late 1970’s. Diagnosed only 10 years later, I
barely made that mark.
I
never meant for this blog to become so personal. But alas it has.
And like my occupation as a cancer research is not motivated by personal
experiences, this blog follows the Godfather’s advice: “It’s not personal, it’s
business.”
