Wednesday, May 6, 2009


I was hesitant to start a blog in the first place because I thought, "who would find my life interesting?" Well, call it artistic inspiration. I suppose I've found my muse. Its name is lymph node. 

I'm writing from my hospital bed on the 12th floor of the High Building in Hartford Hospital. Ironic, it's my workplace, but I'm seeing it from a whole new perspective. What a way to understand the product I'm marketing---inside research. 

I was sent to the ER Monday night after myriad of symptoms showed up over the past few weeks. Every day they got worse and my doctor had no idea what was going on. Extreme fatigue, night sweats, big lumps on my collar bone, neck and underarm which turned out to be swollen lymph nodes which were working hard to fight some kind of infection. After new discoveries of more swollen nodes and no signs of getting better I headed into the ER. 

My doc was fantastic ... very smart, very positive and had exactly my same attitude: "this must be driving you nuts; let's figure out what is going on." She had me poked, proded and scanned and was determined to get me admitted so that I could get all the top care here in the hospital without having to schedule dozens of appointments with various specialists. 

A CT Scan was the test that showed the closest to an answer that I've had yet. They scanned my neck and chest and found more internal swollen lymph node masses in my chest and my mediastinal tract. The ER doc came in to give me the results. "24" was blaring on the 52" plasma TV (I lucked out to get a room with these brand new television donations which I had just featured a story about in the RxTra--irony). She's talking over the TV. My parents and Craig are there and the doc is talking through a big smile saying it looks like signs are pointing more toward Hodgkin's Lymphoma than an infection. I thought I heard her wrong. She's still going on about chemo and treatment and I had to ask my Dad to turn off the TV. She was so laid back about it. She grabbed my foot on her way out of the room and said 'We're going to get you better' like I just scraped my knee on the playground. At the time I thought it was strange, but now I realize I wouldn't want the delivery any other way. 

Fast forward to this morning as I await a biopsy procedure by Dr. Jiminez (who looks just like the overly animated father in Life is Beautiful--"Bonjourno Principesa is all I could think when I met this little energetic man) They're pulling out a lymph node from my left armpit to find out what might be going on.  And then we wait ... 

I've been anxious about deadlines, wedding planning, big fundraising events, but this takes anxiety to a whole new level. And puts everything else in perspective. 

1 comment:

  1. Karin,
    I've read all your posts so far but this one seems to be the beginning of new era for you. It's going to challenge you in ways you never thought you could be challenged. It's going to test you and throw you through hoops you never knew existed. In the end, you're going to see how capable you truly are of overcoming anything. I know you are already a positive person with so much to look forward to , but I also know that grass will smell that much more beautiful when all this is over with. You're going to be even more of an amazing person than you are now. Face this, fight this, beat this. Forever in my thoughts are yourself and Craig. I know you'll overcome. -Kenny