Sunday, September 19, 2004
Two stories of the week. (A)
There were two great stories that I read this week, one was on Wall Street Jounal, the other from Bicycling magazine, since neither of them were easily available online, I decided to excerpt some of them here. First the one from October 2004's Bicycling manazine, titles
"Third Time's a Charm" After going three rounds with cancer, Kristen Adelman is taking her fighting spirit on the road.
Sixth-grade algebra teacher Kristen Adelman of Elkridge, Maryland, was training for an Ironman triathlon when she learned that what doctors originally deemed a sinus infection was really non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. A massive tumor between her heart and left lung was causing swelling in her neck and head. Four years, two stem-cell transplants and 15 rounds of chemotherapy and radiation later, Adelman, now 34, will ride across the country in the Bristol-Myers Squibb Tour of Hope, a partnership with the Lance Armstrong Foundation in
which 20 cancer survivors, researchers and caregivers will ride from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C.
You were so strong and fit at the time. Did you think, "No way. Wrong diagnosis"?
I knew something was wrong. My head and neck looked like a linebacker's. It was stunning to hear "cancer," but once it sunk in, I figured, "I can handle this. In one year I'll be back to my regular life." Then I ran home and ordered a Trek 5200.
What? The first thing you did was buy a bike?
It had been my dream bike for a while. It's also the bike Lance won the 1999 Tour on after coming back from cancer. It was June 2000 -- he was finishing his journey with cancer, and I was starting mine.
And it was an epic journey.
Oh, yeah. Turns out, I was chemo-resistant. So, the tumor grew through all the initial treatments. Next was a bone-marrow stem-cell transplant, with my own heathy cells. It went great--four months later, I did a half-Ironman. I felt awesome until a checkup two months after the race, when my doctor told me my cancer was back--on my lungs, on a heart valve, on a kidney, everywhere. I needed another stem-cell transplant. This time it had to be a perfect sibling match, the odds of which are very slim. Incredibly, my brother was a match. My doctor enrooled me in a trial at the National Cancer Institute, where I stayed for two and a half weeks, while they literally saved my life.
And did y ou take that sitting down?
No, I did what I call the NCI Century -- my slowest ever! I needed a reason to get up in the morning, so I asked for an exercise bike in my room. I rode that old LifeCycle about 7 miles every day, until I hit 100. It was painful, but it reminded me what I was fighting for.
The hardest part is that six months after that ordeal, the cancer returned. I was so sick of being bald and fighting what felt like a losing battle. But it's like being in an 11-hour triathlon. There are times you don't think you can keep going, when you really don't want to, but you dig deep, pray harder, and find the strength. Thank God, after another does of my brother's cells and three rounds of chemo, I've been cancer-free for two years.
Training for races must be cake now
Definitely! Blisters and sore muscles are nothing when you've had bone marrow sucked from your spine. AFter my NCI stay, I could barely get off the couch. When I did, it was to go to 7-Eleven for chili dogs, Ben & Jerry's and those little pink snowball cakes -- stuff I never ate, but suddenly craved.
For my comeback, I clenaed up my eating and completed the Mohican 100 Trail Run earlier this year. It was my way of sticking it in cancer's face. Now, I'll ride across the country. My doctor said that if I hadn't been in such exceptional shape, I wouldn't have survived all these treatments. Even in tragedy, there are miracles. But you need to work and believe.
I was very moved by Kristen's story, not only because I am bike fan, Armstrong fan now, but also because my mom died from exactly the same disease she had, "non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma" (only now I know the correct English name of it, but when I read the name, I had no doubt that was it, 非何杰金氏淋巴癌), back in 1994, the first year I came to the US, a strange country at the time. I will NEVER forget what that year meant in my life.
I am glad by the medical improvements in these years, I am not sure if that would have save my mom's life had all those stem-cell transplants been available to us 10 years ago in China, but I am sure a lot of people have been saved, the same way Kristen was.
More than anything, I am deeply moved and encouraged by her courage and spirit. I just hope we can all share that, and remember, "Even in tragedy, there are miracles. But you need to work and believe." I wish someday, I will remember this, if I were to be challenged the same way or similar.
After writing this story, I wasted no time, and went to the Lance Armstrong Fundation Store and did the thing I have long been wanting to do, buying the yellow ribbons!
"Third Time's a Charm" After going three rounds with cancer, Kristen Adelman is taking her fighting spirit on the road.
Sixth-grade algebra teacher Kristen Adelman of Elkridge, Maryland, was training for an Ironman triathlon when she learned that what doctors originally deemed a sinus infection was really non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. A massive tumor between her heart and left lung was causing swelling in her neck and head. Four years, two stem-cell transplants and 15 rounds of chemotherapy and radiation later, Adelman, now 34, will ride across the country in the Bristol-Myers Squibb Tour of Hope, a partnership with the Lance Armstrong Foundation in
which 20 cancer survivors, researchers and caregivers will ride from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C.
You were so strong and fit at the time. Did you think, "No way. Wrong diagnosis"?
I knew something was wrong. My head and neck looked like a linebacker's. It was stunning to hear "cancer," but once it sunk in, I figured, "I can handle this. In one year I'll be back to my regular life." Then I ran home and ordered a Trek 5200.
What? The first thing you did was buy a bike?
It had been my dream bike for a while. It's also the bike Lance won the 1999 Tour on after coming back from cancer. It was June 2000 -- he was finishing his journey with cancer, and I was starting mine.
And it was an epic journey.
Oh, yeah. Turns out, I was chemo-resistant. So, the tumor grew through all the initial treatments. Next was a bone-marrow stem-cell transplant, with my own heathy cells. It went great--four months later, I did a half-Ironman. I felt awesome until a checkup two months after the race, when my doctor told me my cancer was back--on my lungs, on a heart valve, on a kidney, everywhere. I needed another stem-cell transplant. This time it had to be a perfect sibling match, the odds of which are very slim. Incredibly, my brother was a match. My doctor enrooled me in a trial at the National Cancer Institute, where I stayed for two and a half weeks, while they literally saved my life.
And did y ou take that sitting down?
No, I did what I call the NCI Century -- my slowest ever! I needed a reason to get up in the morning, so I asked for an exercise bike in my room. I rode that old LifeCycle about 7 miles every day, until I hit 100. It was painful, but it reminded me what I was fighting for.
The hardest part is that six months after that ordeal, the cancer returned. I was so sick of being bald and fighting what felt like a losing battle. But it's like being in an 11-hour triathlon. There are times you don't think you can keep going, when you really don't want to, but you dig deep, pray harder, and find the strength. Thank God, after another does of my brother's cells and three rounds of chemo, I've been cancer-free for two years.
Training for races must be cake now
Definitely! Blisters and sore muscles are nothing when you've had bone marrow sucked from your spine. AFter my NCI stay, I could barely get off the couch. When I did, it was to go to 7-Eleven for chili dogs, Ben & Jerry's and those little pink snowball cakes -- stuff I never ate, but suddenly craved.
For my comeback, I clenaed up my eating and completed the Mohican 100 Trail Run earlier this year. It was my way of sticking it in cancer's face. Now, I'll ride across the country. My doctor said that if I hadn't been in such exceptional shape, I wouldn't have survived all these treatments. Even in tragedy, there are miracles. But you need to work and believe.
I was very moved by Kristen's story, not only because I am bike fan, Armstrong fan now, but also because my mom died from exactly the same disease she had, "non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma" (only now I know the correct English name of it, but when I read the name, I had no doubt that was it, 非何杰金氏淋巴癌), back in 1994, the first year I came to the US, a strange country at the time. I will NEVER forget what that year meant in my life.
I am glad by the medical improvements in these years, I am not sure if that would have save my mom's life had all those stem-cell transplants been available to us 10 years ago in China, but I am sure a lot of people have been saved, the same way Kristen was.
More than anything, I am deeply moved and encouraged by her courage and spirit. I just hope we can all share that, and remember, "Even in tragedy, there are miracles. But you need to work and believe." I wish someday, I will remember this, if I were to be challenged the same way or similar.
After writing this story, I wasted no time, and went to the Lance Armstrong Fundation Store and did the thing I have long been wanting to do, buying the yellow ribbons!
