We were at the cottage, partying it up on a Saturday night Memorial Day weekend, 2019. It was my sister, her husband, my other sister’s boyfriend, my husband and I. We were the “last ones standing,” so to speak, and my brother-in-law sparked the “hip check heard round the world.” He hip-checked my sister, which turned into a round-robin with me being at the end of it. Four people’s full momentum hit me so hard I fell to the concrete slab we were standing on. Not meant to injure anyone, I believe my brother-in-law saved my life that night.
By the time I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t move, or even breathe. I spent the next two days in bed. My husband took me to the local Emergency Room, where they told me at 41 years old, I had lung cancer. They told me they were transferring me, via ambulance, to the bigger hospital where my treatment would be more thorough. I got to the larger hospital, and they’d confirmed what the other had said: I had lung cancer, and a large mass to the left of my left lung. Thank God I’d gotten hip-checked, thank God we came in for my sore lung, thank God for so many things. But lung cancer? I never would’ve thought that. When my mom told me how devastating it was, I remember telling her that no, a baby being born with no chance for survival is devastating. A 41-year-old smoker finding out they have lung cancer was imminent, not devastating.
I don’t remember much of the next few days, hooked up to different machines and lots of breathing treatments. My husband had to make some very difficult phone calls. Calls to each of my parents, children and siblings, and none of them were easy, I’m sure. My husband was so strong, I knew he was terrified, but he never let it on. No matter what was going on behind those beautiful strong, blue eyes he’d never show it. He only put on the “this is going to be okay face” to me and it felt genuine every time.
My Dad and his wife made it up to the hospital and started asking the “hospitalist,” (i.e., doctor) questions. They were preparing to remove part of my lung before my dad stepped in and told us to get to a specialist before I let them cut anything out of me. It was a move and decision that could have killed me, had he not stepped in.
We got the name of three of the best cancer facilities within 10 hours from us, and one in Milwaukee had an open bed and we prepared for the 6-hour trip. Everyone was emotional, I couldn’t do anything but cry…it seemed like my life was ending, and I beat myself up for every cigarette I’d ever smoked.
My husband and I stayed with my sister and kiddos, an hour from Milwaukee, and for the next month, we’d drive from her place to the hospital, an hour away, having different tests done on every organ in my body, it seemed. My breathing quality was not good, and I struggled for each breath. It felt like there was an elephant that had nosedived and landed directly on my chest, it was a hard landing.
—
The specialists were extraordinary, so very thorough, and we found out about four weeks in that I did not, in fact, have lung cancer but a semi-rare form of pneumonia called Legionnaire’s disease. No cancer. That was the best news we’d not expected, and I felt like I had a second chance in life, and it renewed my positivity and my overall mood from thinking I was going to die.
Legionnaires’ disease is a severe form of pneumonia — lung inflammation usually caused by infection. Most people catch Legionnaires’ disease by inhaling the bacteria from water or soil. Older adults, smokers and people with weakened immune systems are particularly susceptible. (Wikipedia)
I’d had so many appointments with different specialists, I had to walk through the oncology unit each day, and it didn’t get easier seeing all those people suffering. Some had hair, some did not, but they all had one thing in common: they had cancer. And now, I’d found out, I did not. Why me? Why am I okay, I remember thinking.
I wasn’t going to die. I would be there for my children and grandchildren, I would be able to go on living and loving my husband, and everyone in my life. My sister, who’s house we’d been staying at, stopped looking at me like “dead woman walking.” She’d tried to make her home as relaxing as possible, but neither of us knew if this was the place I was coming to die. And we now knew it wasn’t. The amount of relief we got that day we got all the tests results was unlike any other. I had a large mass near my lung, and a spot on my thyroid, but that could be cleared up with ongoing medication. There was no need for surgery, and lots of relieved phone calls to make.
They tracked back my previous two weeks and everywhere I’d been. They traced how I’d contracted it to a motel we’d stayed at while my second eldest son was graduating from high school. I was on some immune suppressing medications for underlying medical issues, and when I’d gotten into the hot tub, that was determined to be the culprit. The health department closed the pool area of the motel for three days to thoroughly clean the jets, but the damage for me was already done.
The specialists put me on some high dose antibiotics, anti-inflammatory medication and steroids. As we drove back to the Upper Peninsula, the sun looked brighter, every song that came on the radio spoke to me and I know I drove my husband crazy with the “no, this is my favorite song.” And he just smiled. That ride back that day was like no other, the trees looked greener, the sun was shining brighter, somehow, and the love in my husband’s eyes is the only thing I could see. Every song that came on the radio had meaning, somehow, of what we’d just come back from. Now my parents, kiddos and siblings could now breathe a sigh of relief about this being a “thing,” and go on living their lives without being stressed out about me. I was fine.
—
I started to melt away, to nothing. I’d gone from a whopping 263 lbs. to about 160 lbs. I was eating the same, doing all the same things and I was shrinking. Rumors circulated that I was on drugs. No, folks, I was alive. I was walking my dog; I was relishing being alive and knowing that I’d “gotten another shot at it.” I started drinking water, gave up soda and carbs and felt better than I ever had. And the haters went ahead and hated.
I was still smoking, which I was told by loved ones around me that it was hurtful, almost disrespectful. It’s a horrible thing, being hooked on cigarettes…and I craved them. I tried to get better about smoking around others, but it didn’t really take.
He worked all week long, and we hung out with family every weekend. It was great, I needed to have the week in between to prepare for the weekends. We had so much fun every time, but it was sucking the life out of me, I was very weak. I’d gotten up with him at 4 a.m. for years, but now I was falling asleep as soon as he’d left. I knew that if I didn’t stay up and get the housework done, it wouldn’t get done. I slept most of days away, but when he got home for the weekends, I was alive again.
And then finally one day, I felt better again. And I felt healed, finally. I didn’t feel like the delicate flower in the room anymore. I felt strong enough to be myself again. So, we continued to get together with loved ones every weekend, just like always. But then that “thing” happened-the “pandemic.” And everything changed again.
If you’re me, who’s immune compromised already, you’re paranoid. And I was. I didn’t want to leave the house for fear of infection, what some of the news outlets did, just terrible. But that’s a different book. I was finally feeling better, getting in the groove of living and not feeling like I was dying anymore. And I came to this realization” when we were all “grounded to our homes.” Like they planted enough of a seed in so many heads that we all lost almost three years-wrestling meets, drama plays, meeting with Grandma. All of that. We missed a lot.
I was introduced to the “most fun” wonder drug, and it worked…too well. We spent a lot of our time at home, experiencing its wonder. We went down a very slippery slope, but went down it, and came back up, nonetheless.
For two years we almost hibernated at home and became closed off from everyone, just like everyone else was. And here we are, on the other side. Having moved from the Upper Peninsula to Alaska, with a few stops in the way? Not bad and we were only beginning. We’d had some real good help and friends we’d met along the way, and it was starting to feel like we were really a part of something here. Or better yet, not a part of something.
The loneliness comes in waves, but it’s good to miss people. You appreciate it even more when they’re around. Even a quick catch-up conversation is good for any random reason.
There is not a bad angle or point of view here when you’re looking outside at the landscapes. I write this with Mount Juneau out my front window…it is amazing. But I’m getting to the point where a hug with my daughter, Mom or sister would feel amazing about now. We need to take a trip back to see everyone, it’s been way too long. We had to take a necessary step back, for a lot of reasons, but right now more than ever the need to see family is very strong.
The lung mass is still there, but there was no need for surgery. They think it’s mostly scar tissue, anyway, no active inflammation. There’s still a spot on my thyroid, they’ll keep an eye on it, but yes, after all the hoopla, there was, thankfully nothing to have any hoopla about. I had lost nearly 100 lbs., for hardly any real, solid reason. I am almost 45 years old, I’m always striving for ways to feel better, to be better…thankfully I got out of this one unscathed. To my loved ones, I’m sorry for the scare, believe it, it was scary for all of us. As a take-away all I can say is, get a second opinion. If I hadn’t, I don’t know where I’d be other than I’d be missing part of my lung.
I thought I was going to die, and then finding out that I was actually more alive than ever, it was quite a period of time in my life. There are some loved ones who are out of the picture for now, and I think that’s best. I was on a roller coaster and taking everyone with me, and it wasn’t fair. Hopefully life will bring us back together again someday, but for right now, I take every day I’m given and try to make it better than the one the day before. I love those I love with my everything, even if I get nothing back, I keep trying. And I will, that’s who I am.
