On October 1, 1994, I met the man who became the most important person in my life. On Thursday, October 20, 1994, I was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
Terry, my husband, and I met through the personal ads of our local paper. We talked for a week prior to meeting. We could not immediately meet because I was feeling so ill. So on Saturday, October 1, we met at a nearby park and hiked while talking for hours. We were instant friends. Throughout the next couple of weeks, I saw an ear, nose and throat specialist for what doctors thought was a sinus infection. On Thursday, October 13, I was referred to a cancer specialist, who immediately checked me into a hospital. I was terrified; I was only 30, had only been teaching first grade for three years, and had never been married. I felt as though this could not possibly be happening to me. I was too young and always healthy. I called my new friend and in tears told him that I would be in the hospital for a couple of days. I begged Terry to consider keeping our friendship, but I would have understood if he simply stopped calling. Terry said he would be at the hospital that evening; I had my doubts. True to his word, Terry came to the hospital at 7:00 P.M., with a stuffed koala bear in hand.
Terry came to the hospital every night that week. On Thursday, October 20, I received my diagnosis and was told I could not return to school for four months. That evening I asked my new friend whatever would I do for four months and he responded. “Plan a wedding?” Thus began the most terrifying, painful and exciting period of my life.
Throughout the chemotherapy, which left me nauseous and weak, Terry sat with me, discussing the wedding plans and helping me to focus on the happy and hopefully cancer-free future.
On January 21, 1995, Terry and I were married. Three days later, I went into the hospital for high-dose chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant.
For three weeks (10 days of which I was in an isolation room), Terry came to the hospital and slept over when he could. When the pain and depression got the best of me, I concentrated on my new husband and all of the different things we would do together. I planned a family dinner and I thought about the menu and how my relatives would be around me and I would feel surrounded by their support and love.
Each day throughout my hospital stay, my mother sat with me. She asked the doctors questions I was too drugged or too sick to ask for myself. Mom talked when I felt up to it and cross-stitched when I was sleeping. For a large portion of each day, either my mother or my husband sat with me and helped me through the toughest times.
I have now been in remission for six months. I credit my recovery to a wonderful man who saw beyond those ugly cancer cells and to a family whose love and support kept me going on even the most tenuous days.
- Christine M. Creley