My Hematologist is undoubtedly one of the brightest research physicians in the Lymphoma specialty. He may have the worst bed side manner I’ve ever seen, and he may or may not dislike me, but he saved my life. Because of his clinical knowledge, he literally saved my life after two rounds of intense chemotherapy. If he would have given me the standard ABVD treatment, I wouldn’t have had a chance. Because of him, I was able to celebrate my 29th birthday, after coming pretty close to death at 28. If I had went to Vegas as planned, I probably wouldn’t be alive right now. He saved me, and for that, I owe him my life.
And you know who also saved me? My mother. I can’t even begin to describe what a god send she has been through out this whole process. My mom is the definition of a boss. She has been through it all in her life and she never complains. Ever. She’s a tough woman, and I always have aspired to be as strong as she is. If one day I can even be half the woman that she is, I would consider myself very lucky. The weeks after I was released from the hospital, I was an absolute shit show. My hair was falling out and shedding in clumps all over my apartment. I was sick. I would sit on the couch and cry with a bucket next to me, in case I had to throw up. I would cry all day and all night, asking myself why this was happening to me and what I could have possibly done to deserve this. And my mom was a trooper through out all of this. Every morning when I went to put my hands through my hair, it would fall out in clumps, to the point where it would make me physically sick and I would cry. Every morning for about two weeks, my mom would sit with me in the bathroom, brush out all of the dead hair, and cut it off. She kept brushing and cutting, until it was basically all gone. Not once did she shed a tear. Watching your 28 year old daughter’s hair fall out in front of your own eyes is probably just as traumatizing as it is, when it actually happens to you.
My mom is a hard ass, and her hard ass attitude really helped me get to the point where I am now, and I’m only half way through with chemo. I think she only let me feel sorry for myself and cry for a total of two weeks, if even that. She forced me to man up, take control of my life, and not let cancer define me. She helped me realize that other people have terminal cancer, and have it SO much worse than I do. This woman spent about 5 months in Buffalo last year, taking care of my aunt as she was battling Leukemia before she passed away, she took care of my 96 year old grandma for months, and had to leave when I was diagnosed with Cancer. Now she is taking care of me and I’m only 29. The most important thing that she has taught me is that these were the cards that I was dealt, so it was time to deal with them! Not to mention she basically was forced to move into my apartment and be my slave. She accompanies me on EVERY doctors appointment and chemo that I have. She also bitches at the chemo nurses, when I have to wait hours for my chemo appointments. You go Jackie, get me in VIP! We don’t wait in line!!!! And she takes care of my pain in the butt dog while she’s at it. She goes shopping for me pretty much every other day, so that my outfits are always on point and I look pretty! (No joke, Nordstrom is her second home). She’s probably spent thousands of dollars too on wigs, since I’m a superficial brat…correction..WAS! She also leaves my chemo cubicle when I have male doctor resident visitors, and loves the hospital gossip. And not to mention she dealt with my insane behavior in the ICU, which my friends can even tell you, was one for the books! Please contact Olivia Karpinski for more information haha!!
And also…not to mention..I’m not exactly the most compliant patient. SOMETIMES I forget to take my pills on time, injure myself, or stay outside of my apartment longer than I should, but Mama J always has my back. Shout out to you mom, you’re THE REAL MVP!
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