My first cousin was diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease in March or April of 1996.I remember my mother telling me and I was concerned. Of course back then I bought into that bullshit that only people who can't deal with their stress or lead unhealthy lives get cancer - especially at such a young age.

Until, that is, I was diagnosed a month later. I was 29, working at a high-paced retail marketing job in Denver, happily settling with my husband since we moved from the east coast to Colorado, and excruitiatingly happy.

On Mother's Day, 1996 I was at my brother's house. He has two cats which I am terribly allergic to. However, I have never ever gotten hives, only sneezing and red eyes. This time I broke out in bright red itchy hives all over my collar bone area. The next day I noticed lumps along there. Now I am convinced that those hives were telling me something. I have never gotten hives again since. That week I went to the Dr. for an eye infection and mentioned the lumps. I was sure I had pulled a muscle playing roller hockey the week before.

He figured it was mono or a mono-like infection, however did mention the possibility of lympatic cancer (as he called it). I freaked on the way back to work. I remember calling my husband saying I can't believe I hope I have mono. Of course the nurse (I refer to her as wastoid-ugly-horrible-beasty nurse-bitch) didn't call me with the mono results as the Dr. had specifically told her to NOR did she return my calls and I had to wait the weekend. Now this is a family practitioner, how many patients are waiting for test results to tell them if they have CANCER. I still can't believe she blew me off. It took days to find out that it wasn't mono. So I changed Drs.

My new Primary Care Physician pretty much knew right away what it was. He sent me for a chest x-ray and a surgeon consult that very day. I didn't realize until now how lucky I was to be diagnosed so soon, so many stories I have read were slow to diagnosis. Because everything moved so quickly, I didn't get to do as much research as I would have otherwise. This is very good, if I had known what it could have been (non-HD lymphoma, leukemia, etc.) I would have freaked worse.

Biopsy confirmed it. I did a CT, bone-marrow biopsey (they didn't offer me the option of being put under until I was there, and then it was too late as I had already eaten that morning. How many of you out there went through being nailed to the table for this biopsey while awake?) blood tests, etc. Because fertility is such a big deal for me I didn't want chemo. So I had to undergo a laperotomy (splenectomy, liver biopsey, etc.) My surgeon was absolutely fantastic but underplayed the seriousness of this surgery. That was tough. I was IIIA - but just barely, had only one microscopic tiny eetsey leetsey bit in my spleen.

I got a million opinions, I guess there isn't much stats out there at all for IIIA, seems to be rare, every Dr. said something different - should have total nodal rad, should have chemo, should have both, no fertility is a problem, should have just rad. They ended up telling ME to make the decision. I am not a Dr., how the hell am I supposed to know, I wanted to be cured, not lose any time in my life and be able to have kids. I ended up having eight weeks of radiation treatment, chest and abdomen. I didn't have any skin problems, didn't get nauseous, didn't get tired, managed to eat okay. But the back of my hair did fall out and my mouth got unbelievably dry for a long time afterward, gave me six cavities. I worked every single day after my ONE LOUSY WEEK OFF after surgery. My boss kept picking up the phone to make airline reservations "You need to go to Florida or California or Seattle" and I would remind her - no I can't travel, I have to be here every single day. But I was glad she kept forgetting, that's the way I wanted it - to appear normal to the outside world. Even though she had no appreciation whatsoever what I was going through or how amazing it was that I kept at my high-energy, never stop job through this.

I finished treatment September 9, 1996.

I couldn't get why this got me. I had never ever (even in college) done drugs, I worked out religiously, ate well, was very active and fit. I kept reminding myself that hockey players are in the best physical condition possible and Mario Lemieux got it. He became one of my heroes through all of this, even though I am a Rangers fan and Avalanche fan, he is still my favorite player (now retired).

I saw a big-wig head physician at University hospital in Denver - one of the leaders in research for cancer. He told me the thinking now is that HD is some garden-variety virus people contract in childhood tha somehow goes nuts in some people and lies dormant for years, coming out in the late 20's. This actually made me feel better, it's not something I could have avoided. It also makes sense, my cousin lived down the street from us when we were kids.

The worse part was after treatment. Wondering is definately bad. The people closest to me assume this is all over, yet for me it is still going on all the time. The mental challenge is worse than the physical ever was. I never noticed aches and pains or bumps or itches before in my life, now I obssess over them. I am interested to hear if others experience this. I also am interested to hear if anyone found the post-radiation pains to be a shocker, all the books discuss what to expect during treatment, not after.

I wish I could say that this changed my life for the better. I already made a conscious effort to appreciate every single day, the little things, the sunsets and smell the flowers. I already appreciated (loved really) my body and the things it is capable of. I already reveled in the present while looking forward to the future.

I am supposed to say that cancer taught me these things. What it really did is say - okay, Kelli, now prove it. Prove you really are as strong and balanced as you think you are. Now when people say "when you were sick" I say no, I wasn't sick, I say "when I was in treatment." And I wait for the magical two year mark so I can think about babies, and I wait for the super-magical five year mark when I can take it out of a central part of my mind and shove it into a corner. And I know that if it does come back, I can handle it. Because I already did once. Sometimes I pull my hair back to see if I would still be beautiful bald.

Write to Kelli! kjordan@netone.com.

©1996 Diana L.E.G. Hinnrichs