I do not have breast cancer, but my brother has lymphoma.

Understandably it's been a while since I've written anything for my page here. I've wanted to know how it will turn out. I've wanted to keep my brother's privacy, yet write about this, and somehow protect him from the disease itself... which I am unable to do. He gave me the okay to write whatever I want about it; Bill's always had a casual, open way. His reaction to the diagnosis has amazed me. He's been accepting of it, trusting, going about his life as if he were truly well while he's undergoing treatment. He's gone to work, including business trips, done things with his family, and performed on bass guitar in the Sarasota area with his band. He's kept his sense of humor (which can range from unabashed goofiness to clever turns of meaning in the language; we've played straight man for each other's punch lines).

And, he's nearing total remission.

His doctor asked how he had been "able to handle this so well". Bill replied "Would it help anything if I panicked?" His doctor said no. "Then I won't panic." And he went for another PUVA treatment. On the other hand, I acted like a typical pre-med and did a Medline search for t-cell mycosis fungoides. I know, it sounds like a serious case of mushrooms, yet it's a lymphoma. The misnomer comes from the appearance of mushroom-shaped tumors that sometimes arise from the skin in severe cases. The red blood cells get an extra 'blip' on them and the body tries to detoxify itself by pushing these cells out through the skin. Gives the person who has it an appearance of big purple-red birthmarks with dry, patchy skin...in my brother's case, more than 25% of his skin was affected. The prognosis scared me; about 15% of people with this form of lymphoma die from it within 20 years of their initial diagnosis. Bill's been symptomatic for 5 years and was only diagnosed properly this past fall. He's my only sibling and I've always been nuts about him. I want him to be in that other group. The 85% who die of something else...like old age!

My own situation hasn't been nearly as dramatic. Last semester I had an odd, new sensation in my right breast. Slightly painful. Waiting for the results of the mammogram was tough. Taking exams while waiting for the results was hell. (And something to remember when it's one of my patients who's waiting for his or her test results). A week after the films were done, I got good news that there was "no radiographic evidence of malignancy at the present time". Whew! (Okay, so my theory here is that perhaps I headed off some mastitis. Some rest, a few heat packs, some oil of evening primrose capsules, and I feel back to normal even several months later).

So, for now at least, I know how it turns out. We're both healing something. I'm still concerned about my brother, but I feel like we've gone through something and come out better for it. It's gotten us talking and e-mailing each other more. That's like gold to me.

Typical pre-med here again: should I talk about any of this with admissions committees? It certainly goes a long way to explain my B in cell biology last semester, yet we've all heard the advice of not mentioning any family or personal illness during med school interviews. My GPA doesn't feel nearly as important as it did before my brother's diagnosis lent a bigger perspective...why people at this site study as much as we do. I'm still striving for A's this semester in micro and genetics, but this has served as a reminder of "why" study in the first place.

And I wish you well!

Mary Bois-Byrne

P.S. A quote for you: (For Bill):

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These people have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and deep, loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen." --- Elizabeth Kubler-Ross