Because of its many forms and how common it has become, there is no doubt in my mind that everyone in the world knows at least one person who has been affected by cancer. It’s a terrible disease and, sadly, there is no cure ... at least, not yet.
Personally, I have not met a single person who hasn’t known someone – a relative, neighbor or friend – who has succumbed to, is battling or has overcome some form of cancer. My grandfather had skin cancer at one point and it is because of breast cancer that I was never able to meet my maternal grandmother. However, one of the saddest things about the disease is that it is not age discriminant. Infants, youth, teenagers, elderly ... they are all susceptible. And while, oftentimes, cancer tends to sneak up on people and take them by surprise, my personal story is a little different. I am in no way saying that I am worse off than anyone else who has had to deal directly or indirectly with cancer, but, like I said, everyone has a story. This is mine.
Imagine living your life knowing that, regardless of what you do, your chances of contracting cancer are about 80 percent. Welcome to my world. When I was 11, I developed a rash on my leg that was eerily similar to that caused by poison ivy. Considering I played Little League and was always running around in the backyard, it didn’t seem all that peculiar. My mom blotted some calamine lotion on it and I was good to go. Or so we thought. The next morning when I awoke, the rash had not only spread, but both my ankles were completely swollen. I could barely walk and, by the end of the day, my hands had swelled to the size of grapefruits, as well. From my perspective, it was unbelievably scary not knowing what was happening to me, so I can only imagine how my parents felt.
On my first visit to the doctor’s office, which would be the first of hundreds, my family physician was stumped by what was happening to me. I vividly remember him paging through textbooks and calling for consultations to try to figure out what it was I had. After being referred to a pediatrician in Marshfield, it was determined I had ulcerative colitis, a disease that affects about 50 out of every 100,000 people in the United States. Over the next few years, I became a human pincushion, in and out of clinics so often that the receptionists and phlebotomists knew me by name. Because of my age, UC seemed like the right diagnosis, but it wasn’t until a few years later that physicians determined I was afflicted with Crohn’s disease, which has very similar symptoms to UC, making it difficult for doctors to tell the difference. But, since there is no cure for Crohn’s disease, all I can do is hope that it stays in remission. Thus, I have been and will be on medication for the rest of my life.
If that weren’t enough, those who have Crohn’s for eight years or more are increasingly more prone to develop colon cancer – the longer you have it, the greater the chances. So, 16 years in, that risk is already becoming too great for my liking. All I can do now is wait ... wait for the cancer or hope I’m one of the lucky ones who doesn’t develop it. But, given my track record, luck is rarely on my side. I’m better off hoping a cure for cancer comes along. And that cannot be done without the generosity of people who donate to the American Cancer Society and partake in events like the run/walk. I’ve never lived in such a giving community like Arcadia and it warms my heart to know that there are so many people who care so much to give their time and hard-earned money to such a worthy cause. You all deserve huge pats on the back for all that you’re doing to make a difference.
Jennie Oemig
Editor
Arcadia News-Leader
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