from the mailbag

to: tntchai@gmail.com
from: M@hotmail.com
subject: re: Thank you!
date: 8/27/07

Hi Chai!

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to donate, and please continue nagging my brother to do the same :) (He has the best intentions, but the sheer force of his laziness overwhelms them...) I had been meaning to donate for some time, but the event that finally prompted me to conquer my laziness was a visit from one of my most memorable patients.

As you know, my specialty is blood disease - so I cover benign hematology (ie. blood clots, bleeding) and malignant hematology (leukemia, lymphoma, bone marrow transplant). My career is weighted towards the former, because though the latter is very challenging and interesting, it's overwhelmingly sad. The first leukemia patient I saw when I moved to Toronto was a 23 year old man. N. presented like all leukemia patients - suddenly and terrifyingly. He was well one morning, and then the next morning his entire bone marrow was taken over by leukemia cells. He was septic, bleeding, and too weak to walk unsupported when I saw him.

The only person with him was his older sister, S., who was 27. Seeing these two in my clinic was particularly heart-wrenching because they were the same age as my brother and I. I know you're a proud big sister too, so you can only imagine all of the projection that was going on during this clinical encounter. S. and N. were remarkably kind and loving people. S. held her brother's hand during the entire visit, and even stood by him while I did the bone marrow. At the end of the visit, I had to tell them that N. had less than a 30% chance of surviving the first month. As the porters wheeled N. upstairs, S. and I sat in the clinic room and cried. She kept thanking me for what I was doing for them, and I kept thinking that I really wasn't able to do very much.

N. had a really horrible course in hospital - multiple infections, every side effect from chemo that you could imagine. I ended up losing touch with him and his sister, because I moved to another hospital. But I thought about them often. In fact, I used the painful memory of our first encounter as my #1 reason NOT to continue in malignant hematology.

Last week I was helping out in a bone marrow transplant clinic, and the nurse asked if I could do a routine screening on a new donor. That new donor was S. To my suprise and delight, N. had survived induction chemotherapy. He was in a tenuous remission, and his sister (a perfect match) was going to give him the chance of a lasting cure by donating her marrow. S. and I hadn't seen each other in months, and the first thing she said was "Dr. M, I was hoping it would be you! I wouldn't let anyone else do a bone marrow on me!" Which was a weird compliment... But I took it nonetheless :) I was so happy that things had come full circle. In January S. told me that she would do anything to save her brother's life. I had to reorient her, and help her prepare for the worst. Without taking away her hope, I had to help her realize that we could do our best, but could not control N's fate. Last week I got to do a much better job. I got to tell S. that this time, she was in control. She could give her brother the most amazing gift - the gift of life. There were lots of tears this time as well, but they were much happier :)

That was a very long winded email, but... bottom line: Thank you for running for leukemia and lymphoma. They are horrible diseases, but in the midst of all the sadness there is so much hope! I would love if you could wear one ribbon to celebrate the lives of all the families I have had the privilege of caring for - those who had happy endings, and those who have left us with happy memories.

XOXO M.

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this email brought me to tears. thank you, m, for having the courage to send me a personal story. i am running for you, as a doctor working with cancer patients, and for the patients you work with. what i find hope in are the number of people who are finding hope through this form of love and giving back.