I didn't really get scared, because it all happened so fast. In a way I was relieved to have an answer to whatever was wrong with me. I had spent too many months trying to get rid of my itchy skin, and I just wanted to stop itching! I scratched my legs so hard and so much that they would bleed, but I would still keep scratching. I was beginning to think I had some form of self hatred and I must be trying to punish myself by mutilating my body. It was like a slow torture, and all I could do was concentrate on getting that itch! What I was really trying to do was scratch down to my bones. My itching was unscratchable, and it made almost all clothes unbearable to wear. I was afraid of my clothes, they became my enemy. When I put them on, I felt so uncomfortable that I'd have to take them right off. It made it hard to go anywhere, especially in the heat.

The first thing I did when I found out I was going to lose my hair with chemo was to cut my hair very short. I did not want to experience waking up with handfuls of hair, and I did not want to have only a percentage of my hair. In fact, I decided to shave my head once it did start to come out. Three weeks into chemo, I came out of the shower, and when I put some mouse in my hair, my hair stuck to my hands. That really disgusted me, so I instantly called my hairdresser friend to come over to shave my head. When she finally shaved it I felt so clean! No more icky old hair on my head. I could finally start fresh!

I began to think about all the doctors I had seen for almost two years, and I was numb as I recalled how none of them would take my blood! "Please take my blood," I asked! I knew that something would show up in my blood. I could feel it, but the doctors just told me that I was a "stressed out Silicon Valley working mom." After a while I began to believe it, especially with the array of drugs they kept giving me. I even went to a therapist so I could learn how to relax. She gave me relaxation tapes to listen to, but the guy's voice on the tapes began to bug me, so I stopped listening to them.

It was mid-November '95 when I found a lymph node under my left arm pit, and I also began to look abnormally puffy! When I told my doctor at the time about it, he smiled very close to my face and told me I should not worry about it or even check to see of it had gone away. He even said it did not feel like cancer, and I was so relieved that I simply obeyed him when he gave me antibiotics. Deep inside I knew something wasn't right, but I really wanted to trust my doctor. I grew up a doctor's daughter, so I was used to being taken care of by top notch doctors. I was used to doctors who covered all bases just in case! I took the antibiotics.

By mid-December I got puffier, and I started getting fever and chills, along with drenching night sweats. I would wake up with sweat pouring down my sides! Then I found another lymph node on the right side of my groin, and that set off an alarm. Two unexplained enlarged nodes seemed more than a coincidence. Once again my doctor gave me antibiotics to mask my symptoms, instead of doing some tests to see if my collection of symptoms did not add up to something serious. I took the antibiotics which did not work, in fact my node doubled in size. Now that I look back I should have been scared to death of it, but I really wanted to trust my doctor!

By New Year's Eve week-end, every Hodgkin's symptom that exists exploded in my body. I went to the doctor that Friday and he finally agreed to do a blood test, but I would not know the results until the following Tuesday. Over the week-end my neck swelled up with small lymph nodes, my face started to itch, and I had a little trouble breathing. I was almost afraid to go to sleep, because I thought I might not wake up.

This is email I wrote to my husband on the night of 12/30/95 . My neck nodes are swelling a lot! Please check me when you wake up, make sure I'm breathing OK. Try not to wake me unless I look in need of a doctor. I will wake you if it gets too hard to breathe! I'm trying not to be scared!

This is email I wrote to my sisiter on New Year's Day. Still so sick. Temp of 101.4. Sweating a lot, shivering, shaky, pains everywhere, dizzy. Scott is taking care of me, but is asleep now. I could not drive like this, and may call mom in the am. Tomorrow is a busy day, school, Scott to work, me to the doctor. I can do nothing, this is it! I'm ready for an IV or hospital any minute! Keep you posted!

Early Tuesday morning my husband and I went to see my doctor to find out the results of my blood test. My doctor put his face inches away from mine and said, "Your blood looks really weird." Then he went on to name possible diseases, such as Leukemia, Lymphoma, and Hodgkin's. My doctor looked scared, he even persuaded an ill hematologist who was home with the flu to examine me that afternoon. I went to see him, but I was suddenly very skeptical about accepting anyone as my new doctor. That's when my husband called my father, and he set us up with an appointment to see Dr. Cooney at Stanford. He was the same doctor who saved my aunt's life from Hodgkin's, and my sister-in-law's life from a blood disorder.

This is email I wrote to my sister on 1/2/96. I don't know what to feel right now. My blood work came back, and the doctor thinks it could be something like a Lymphoma or Leukemia, or it could just be a strange allergic reaction that has spread throughout my body. I am going to a hematologist tonight, and may be hospitalized for bone marrow tests and things. For a month or so I have had the urge to put my life in order, kind of like nesting for a pregnant woman, I hope I not been having final resting urges. I have worried that nobody would take my blood until now, deep down I knew that it would be my demise. I do not have a good feeling about this. How am I supposed to be positive? How can I make it all go away?

I instantly liked Dr. Cooney! He was not rushed, he listened, and I felt completely safe in his hands. I was thrilled and relieved to have him as a doctor, and I felt lucky that my dad was able to get me in as a patient. Dr. Cooney is so booked up that he comes in half an hour early to see me. He knew I had Hodgkin's just by talking to me on the first day! In fact he said I was a text book case, that is if you are a doctor who reads text books. I was finally back with a good doctor!

When I asked Dr. Cooney about my cat scan, he said, "I've never seen anything like it before, the disease is everywhere!" Then I asked him about my bone marrow, and he said "Your marrow is full of disease, I have never seen anything like it in my 50 years of practice!" I could feel my head sink lower and lower with every word. This was not good news, but at least I was going all out! It was like winning a lottery with the prize being a disease. I felt kind of special!

I began chemotherapy with a bang! My first cycle was with MOPP, and I lost a solid 20 pounds of cancer and fluid in ten days. I remember watching the scale pass the 140 mark, then the 130 mark, and finally landing at 127. All my puffiness was gone, and I felt as if I had just gone to a health spa. Doctor Cooney said he couldn't have hoped my treatments could go any better! What I did not tell him was that I had created visualizations to help the chemo rid my body of all that cancer. I worked very hard at visualizing all the dead HD cells moving out of my body, it was like a job!

During these first weeks of chemo, I could not walk by myself and I curled up in a little ball whenever I got to the hospital or doctor's office. For the first week, I felt so bad that I did not even have the strength to look at the nurses who were helping me. I remember the first day that I could walk on my own, and how surprized I was to see the faces attached to the voices I had been listening to. Somewhere during this time I had a transfusion, for it turned out that my "Weird blood" was so low that it was actually dangerous for me to have had my first chemo. I think that what got me through it all, was the great feeling I got when I was told I had a disease with a name, even a cancerous one, for there was treatment that went with it. And most of all, I was so relieved that there was a cure for my itching!

This is email I wrote to my sister on 1/15/96, post-chemo. I had to get to my desk and send something. I will not edit. I am trying to be positive. I can't believe how weak I feel when I am not lying down. I guess the chemo is doing it's optimum job on me. I know I will be strong again, and I keep telling myself that. I use up a lot of energy just zoning out in bed. Scott wants me to sit in the living room, but I don't think he or I realized how far away that room could be. He is at work now, Brittany will be home before him. Her energy kind of scares me, but she is being good! This chemo week-end seems to be putting me through every feeling there is, like a pendulum. So it depends on when I am talked to on how I appear to the outside world. My white count is dangerously low, to the 1000 count, so I have to even worry about getting an infection from myself. I got the doc to suggest all he could, which was to get Brittany shipped off somewhere for a short while and explain that "I love her very much, it is not her fault, but that mommy is just so damn sick!" He thinks she will understand. So my friend Debbie, who has 3 kids, has her for at least a week. I really had no choice, and it took this much to be able to just ship her off! I'm trying not to be too sad about it, but it just tears me apart to have to do this. I know I'm lucky though, because I need the space to recover. It cannot get worse! My head is cold all the time, so I expect to be a Qball soon.

A week after the second half of MOPP I broke out in what the doctors at the hospital called an "impressive rash," along with a temperature of 104 and long lasting chills. It turned out that I had a delayed allergic reaction to the Procarbizine in MOPP. I would have to say, that so far, that was the worst part of this ongoing ordeal, just because my time in the hospital was a bit tormenting. The hospital doctors took so much blood from me for cultures that I almost needed another transfusion. Plus the drug reaction I had did a number on my mouth and tastebuds, nothing tasted normal, even 7-up tasted like salt water. And never has my mouth been so dry!

Three weeks ago I had my first round of ABVD which knocked my white blood cell count down to 1000, postponing my next treatments. I felt as if I got a failing report card, especially when Dr. Cooney told me that that round of ABVD "didn't count." That means 5 more rounds to go. So now I am taking shots of Neupogen and visualizing my counts going up for next week's round of a variation of MOPP.