Caroline Bridges
Learning a "new normal"
Prior to my cancer diagnosis in December 2006, my normal life involved working two jobs, taking photographs for my school newspaper, and going to classes as a sophomore at Boston University (BU). I went to the gym a few times a week and walked everywhere. I did not always make healthy food choices, but that was fine with me. I partied a bit and flirted some. I paid no heed to my unusually pale skin and frequent, intense bruising.
These symptoms eventually led me to multiple tests at a local hospital, where I heard the words no one wants to hear: leukemia, specifically acute lymphocytic leukemia. It sounded like something you cough up when you have a cold.
Strangely, I was not worried about leukemia. I was more concerned about the fact that the doctor insisted I leave Boston immediately to begin treatment back home, near Chicago. He was adamant that I have a support network close at hand, which meant living, once again, with my parents in my childhood home.
Fighting cancer was no sweat. Losing my hair was hard, but I dealt with it. Nausea was gross and upsetting, but I got over it. Needles do not scare me now (except the huge, intramuscular ones), and I am an ace when it comes to blood draws. No, the hardest thing for me was to give up my "normal" life in return for a hospital room and bedroom full of memories.
Balancing college and cancer
My protocol calls for two years of treatment, so I took a semester off to receive the bulk of it at the University of Chicago Medical Center. The first eight months — January through August 2007 — involved intense chemotherapy, delivered in a 12-by-12-foot room, with vital signs taken every four hours. I had fist-sized bruises from injections, and lukewarm, spongy pasta for dinner — so much for normal. By August, my body was worn down. My white cell counts were taking too long to rebuild, so my final doses of chemotherapy were delayed for weeks.
This delay upset me terribly, but it ended up being a good thing, because my doctor told me I could return to BU for the fall semester and complete my treatment at Dana-Farber. When I moved into my apartment in Boston, I was barely strong enough to walk up the two flights of stairs to my new world. Still, on the first day of class, I was overjoyed that I had met my personal goal of returning to school.
The next four months were harder than the previous eight. Besides having to remember how to study and interact with my peers, I still had to go to Dana-Farber to finish my chemo. That phase ended in November, and I began another phase last January, which involves pills and a monthly injection, and will continue until next December.
The entire time I was in Chicago, in the hospital or at home, the only thing I wanted was to regain my life as a college student in Boston. Still, although my adopted city welcomed me back and freed me from the confines of a house in the suburbs, my life is not normal. It's true, I am healthy, working, and studying like everyone else, but all these things seem new to me. So now, my task is to remember what I've learned: that I can adjust to my "new normal," and I can do it in my own way.
