Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML) Support Group
Acute myelogenous leukemia (AML), also known as acute myeloid leukemia, is a cancer of the myeloid line of blood cells. Patients with AML usually present with symptoms such as fatigue, bleeding, infection, prompting medical attention. An abnormal blood test reading will then result in further testing in a hospital with a hematologist to determine AML.
Hi all,
Today is a bitter-sweet day for me. On one hand, it marks the 4th anniversary of my diagnosis, and I am still here...essentially very healthy! I still remember the day I found out that I had AML and that I had to be admitted to the hospital immediately. My wife was working, and my two daughters drove me to Sloan Kettering. It was a surreal experience, but I still remember sitting there in their urgent care area with a bunch of people who looked as if they were living out their last days. There I was with my suitcase and my girls. They were strong for me, because I think I would have disintegrated without them.
March 28, 2011 was also my parents' 62nd anniversary. They were rather surprised that I did not call them, since celebrating over the phone was a family ritual. I told my father a few days later, before I became so ill that I had to go to the ICU (I don't remember that at all), but didn't tell my mother until a few days before my transplant. That was at the urging of my siblings, and I wish I had told her sooner. She was my Pollyanna, and I needed her constant encouragement and prayers. Now she is gone. As most of you know, she fell at home the day her house was painted, because my Dad told her not to hold the rails. She died in the hospital rated the WORST on Long Island. Her memory still brings me to tears. Next week, I will take my father to the cemetery in New Jersey (family plot) and I am sure we will both have a good cathartic cry. I miss her so.
But I have to rejoice at my survival. True, I have had a few issues with my health, all explainable by an immune system that is still recovering (I had a T-depleted transplant like Leapea's Tony). I know that my mother would be happy to know that I am still alive and kicking, and I still have my nearly 93 year old father to love.
We all need to look at our continued existence as a sign from God that our collective mission is not yet complete. My children are doing well (my younger daughter will be graduating from med school and my son will be going to med school this summer, PhD in hand; my eldest daughter is in business) , my wife loves me, and I have siblings and a father (who is in fantastic shape) that I adore.
For those of you who still quake every time you get blood drawn, let it go. Look forward. Don't worry about every lab result. If we have learned anything from our ordeals, it is that one never knows what lurks around the corner. That's why we should all look straight ahead, and never over our shoulders.
I love you all and have learned so much from participating on DS, even though I sometimes disappear! All I can wish for everyone who writes on this site is that you will be as lucky as I have been.
XO
Cliff
Today is a bitter-sweet day for me. On one hand, it marks the 4th anniversary of my diagnosis, and I am still here...essentially very healthy! I still remember the day I found out that I had AML and that I had to be admitted to the hospital immediately. My wife was working, and my two daughters drove me to Sloan Kettering. It was a surreal experience, but I still remember sitting there in their urgent care area with a bunch of people who looked as if they were living out their last days. There I was with my suitcase and my girls. They were strong for me, because I think I would have disintegrated without them.
March 28, 2011 was also my parents' 62nd anniversary. They were rather surprised that I did not call them, since celebrating over the phone was a family ritual. I told my father a few days later, before I became so ill that I had to go to the ICU (I don't remember that at all), but didn't tell my mother until a few days before my transplant. That was at the urging of my siblings, and I wish I had told her sooner. She was my Pollyanna, and I needed her constant encouragement and prayers. Now she is gone. As most of you know, she fell at home the day her house was painted, because my Dad told her not to hold the rails. She died in the hospital rated the WORST on Long Island. Her memory still brings me to tears. Next week, I will take my father to the cemetery in New Jersey (family plot) and I am sure we will both have a good cathartic cry. I miss her so.
But I have to rejoice at my survival. True, I have had a few issues with my health, all explainable by an immune system that is still recovering (I had a T-depleted transplant like Leapea's Tony). I know that my mother would be happy to know that I am still alive and kicking, and I still have my nearly 93 year old father to love.
We all need to look at our continued existence as a sign from God that our collective mission is not yet complete. My children are doing well (my younger daughter will be graduating from med school and my son will be going to med school this summer, PhD in hand; my eldest daughter is in business) , my wife loves me, and I have siblings and a father (who is in fantastic shape) that I adore.
For those of you who still quake every time you get blood drawn, let it go. Look forward. Don't worry about every lab result. If we have learned anything from our ordeals, it is that one never knows what lurks around the corner. That's why we should all look straight ahead, and never over our shoulders.
I love you all and have learned so much from participating on DS, even though I sometimes disappear! All I can wish for everyone who writes on this site is that you will be as lucky as I have been.
XO
Cliff
This is a beautiful post and we all rejoice with you for your continued good health. You are truly blessed.
XOXO
Margaret
Lou
Thank you for sharing your story and these very important occassions with us.
I always look forward to your advice and appreciate all the love and support you offer others. I pray for your continued good health.
Hugs and prayers.
Karen
I'm glad you are here Cliff, I see you as the constant voice of reason here and appreciate your advice and support.
Davej
Your comments mad ME cry (although one side effect of my AML story is that I now cry at the drop of a hat, especially when I see or hear of anyone suffering or anyone frightened by what is happening to them).
I love you all. I don't think I really have to say that. I have never been more serious in my life. You have all become part of my family and that means being there for you no matter what.
XO
CLIFF
I hope you know how incredibly important you are to me and so many of us on DS. There have been many days that I didn't know how I'd get through w out losing my mind completely, and you were here for me. You always have been so open and honest and caring, and I'm forever grateful! As Dave J says, you are the (and MY) constant voice of reason!
I too share the pain of losing a parent, although our circumstances were different, I u set stand fully that there's not a single day I don't think of him or hear his voice & miss him. I pray for your sadness to be eased by the many loving memories you have of her, the blessing of still having your dad, & most of all the blessing that you get to be there for him (& your children and wife) too.
You are amazing in every way, here's to many many more healthy years
Xxoo
Lea
Hugs,
Lora
Ditto ask that had been previously stated. I particularly appreciated your comment about labs. Very relevant for me as I type this response driving, as a passenger, from long beach to Utah. My family just returned from our do over cruise from when I was dxd two years ago. I did great. No illness all goodness. Now Monday is my monthly labs. I'm taking your words of wisdom and am hopeful.
You bless me and all others. Especially,I want to thank you for allowing Laaryssa tho call you and to encourage her through her journey although the outcome was not what we prayed for.
Blessings
Julie