Cancer, Yikes!

On February 24, 2014, I was diagnosed with Chronic Myeloid Leukemia, a date I will never forget. I have had 5-6 hospital stays each year for the past seven years—many side effects resulting in seven amazing doctors I see regularly. Now I only see my oncologist every three months (I am making progress. Eventually, it will be every six months, then every year, and so on).

Cancer does not stop me because I take my tutoring belongings with me when it is time for a hospital stay. I have two laptops (one for pleasure and the other to communicate with students or work on paperwork such as grant submissions), a portable printer, paper, envelopes, cell phone, my special cancer blanket, and other necessities. I cannot leave home without these items. If I do not have these items, I do not feel right because I do not ever want the students I tutor weekly to go without having access to me.

Before cancer, I was having the time of my life traveling, shopping, teaching, business owner of a profit and a non-profit, and enjoying and loving life. I married the most wonderful caring man of my dreams "Kim Love."

Note: "LOVE" has a nice ring to it; in fact, I love "no pun" intended when I hear someone say "Marsha Love," my new name last name. I also kept my maiden name, "McCleod," for the businesses and to take care of my mom's affairs.

One and a half years into my marriage, I received the most devasting news. It was 9:00 pm precisely on February 24, 2014 (13 days before my 48th birthday), on my way home from a long day of work. My husband called, we chit-chatted for a few minutes; then he said we have to have an "eye-baller" when you get home.

Note: An "eye-baller" is a serious conversation.

I wondered the whole way home what in the world had happened. As I entered the door, my husband said, "How was your day? Come and sit down." Then he handed me a piece of paper with several names and numbers and commenced to tell me, "Dr. Haskell called earlier today and said to call him tonight. It doesn't matter what time."

Both Kim and I went for a check-up earlier that day which I did not think much of, just a routine check-up for me and Kim's first appointment with Dr. Haskell, so I wanted to support him.

Kim went on to state Dr. Haskell said you might have cancer. I just sat there in shock because I could not believe what he said.

"Just call," Kim said. "Dr. Haskell will explain everything to you."

I made the call, and Dr. Haskell was his usual chipper, kind self, but I could hear worry. He explained what my blood work indicated, and it was expedient to see an oncologist since my white cell count was 72,000.

Note: An individual's white cell count should only range from 4,000-10,000; anything over is cancer cells.

So early the next day, we started calling the doctors on the list. We finally chose Dr. Elliot Abbey and would be seeing him the next day. By the next day, my cell count was 90,000, not a good sign. My white cells were multiplying rapidly.

For the next year or so, we existed. We met Dr. Abbey and listened as he explained what to expect in the coming days, weeks, and months. We were like zombies. We just sat there and listened. It felt like we were in the "Twilight Zone." All I can remember is Dr. Abbey saying enthusiastically, "You have Chronic Myeloid Leukemia (CML), the good kind of cancer."

"The good kind? What in the world is he saying? How can any cancer be the good kind?" In the coming days, weeks, and months ahead, I began to understand what Dr. Abbey meant by "the good kind." CML is the first phase of leukemia, and it develops at a slower pace than acute myeloid leukemia and blastic myeloid leukemia.

The weekend before I began my first round of chemo on Monday, March 10, 2014, I requested a get-together with close family and friends to share the news. The gathering was terrific! Before I could give them the information, everyone began to guess what they thought it might be, from having a baby to moving out of the country, and all of us constantly laughed at everyone's guesses.

Finally, it was my turn to share the news regarding my cancer diagnosis. All kinds of emotions flew around the room. Overall, I dealt with the various emotions well but was uneasy because my sister and a good friend took it very hard. Their responses were a bit overwhelming, but I held it together.

During this time, I continued teaching at the college and tutored students with my non-profit but had to either take off, rearrange my schedule or leave early due to weekly doctor's appointments or not feeling the best more frequently. I began getting weaker by the days, but I did not want to stop working. I wanted to prove that cancer would not overtake me and stop me from doing what I love to do best "teach," so I taught summer school at the college since I signed up before my diagnosis and continued tutoring my students with my non-profit. It was rough, but that is when I adopted the Energizer Bunny commercial's saying, "It takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin," but I say, "I take a lickin' and keep on tickin" especially on my rough days-even NOW.

The following school year, I had to take a leave of absence from work. Eventually, I had to resign because fatigue and weakness overtook my body, and I could not keep up the pace needed to teach at the college and tutor students daily. COVID set in and posed more complications, thanks to virtual capabilities and surgical masks, gloves, and clothes/shoe coverings. I tutor on a much smaller scale, for which I am grateful because being in the house since last March due to my weak immune system, and the effects this virus can have on my body have been brutal.

I am determined not to give up teaching altogether, so I continue tutoring fewer students between my hospital stays, side effects, and COVID.

I was so excited when I heard I was in remission, but I learned I was not free of cancer. What a disappointment! I just knew the word remission meant free of cancer, but not with blood cancers. I am now in partial remission, but I still have to take my chemo meds to keep my white cell in check. The chemo meds keep blood counts stable and in partial remission.

Oh well, I am not giving up, and one day I will get to ring the bell, which I am looking forward to ringing!