(Reprinted from the Min Sheng Daily News, August 20, 1996)

According to statistics, more than 5,000 people in the United States are threatened by blood diseases each year. In Taiwan, about 1,000 people are forced to go through the course of treatment against the deadly diseases without any psychological preparation. This situation can happen to you and me. Right now, more than 130,000 volunteers have registered to donate bone marrow in Taiwan. Your participation will increase patients' hope for a new life. The following is the experience of a blood cancer patient.

For four years since the marrow transplant, I have had no problem with my health. But whenever I think of leukemia, my heart gets heavier, afraid that the relentless killer might attack for a third time and that I won't be as lucky as I was the first two times.

The Disease Attacks

Seven years ago in my first year of graduate school, I was alone in Taipei. I had a part-time job, so I was quite busy and never sensed anything abnormal in my body. People around me frequently reminded me that I didn't look very well and my lips were just as pale as my face. I got bruises here and there on my body without any reason. I thought it was because I was working too hard or because I was crushed on the fully-packed buses every day. I never realized that a fatal disease was stalking me, step by step.

One day, my father and sister came to Taipei to see me. My father found that his darling boy was completely out of shape. He insisted that my sister accompany me to the hospital for a checkup. I thought it was nothing more than anemia.

The day before I went to the hospital, my hand was bitten by some insect and became terribly swollen. All those symptoms seemed to warn me that my case wasn't a simple one.

When I went to the hospital, the nurse reproached me for being insensitive to the danger of illness. She told me to have my blood tested immediately and wait for the report in the lab. After the doctor read my blood test report, he left me alone and had a private talk with my sister. Only then did I realize the seriousness of my case.

After a while, I was called into the examination room. The doctor said I had to be hospitalized right away. My mid-term exams were going to start the following day. I naively begged him to allow me to take my exams first. He said promptly that my life was in danger, and he asked me if I was sure that I wanted to take the exam. I was so scared that I didn't even dare to ask him what kind of illness I had. My heart was sinking.

Coming back home, I got myself together. Based on my limited medical knowledge, I guessed that my fatal disease must have something to do with the blood - probably leukemia.

Strangely enough, I had no fear at first. I calmly made phone calls to my school and the office where I worked and asked for sick leave. After that, I estimated the consequences of my disease. The more I thought about it, the more scared I became. I held my pillow and cried sadly.

Even after I was admitted into the hospital, I still didn't know the cause of my disease. Classmates and friends whom I hadn't met for quite a while came to see me. Some started to cry once they saw me, proving that my guess was very close to the fact.

At that time I was somewhat evasive. I didn't really want to know what kind of disease I had, because I was afraid to know if it was the one that I had guessed, leukemia. My family members pretended that there was nothing serious, but they wept behind my back.

The Jaws of Death

During the first week after I checked into the hospital, the doctor wanted to extract my marrow to find out the exact cause of my sickness and the proper therapy. However, my father didn't agree, since he was afraid that the extraction might endanger my health later. Because of that, the doctor didn't give me any treatment. Later on, a relative of mine arranged to transfer me to Taiwan University Hospital, the best in Taipei. My father had more confidence in the doctors there. He finally agreed to allow them to make the extraction, which proved that I had contracted acute leukemia.

According to the lab test, my bone marrow stem cells could hardly manufacture any blood corpuscles and 97% of the peripheral blood cells were abnormal. The situation was very serious. The doctor wasn't sure if he could cure me. Under such circumstances, my father asked me whether I wanted to receive treatment or not. I thought I was too young to leave the world just like that. Therefore, I nodded and asked the doctor to give it a try. Seeing that I was so resolute, my father said that as along as there was a gleam of hope, he would even sell his house to cure me.

The doctor started with chemotherapy. Because of allergies, I had strong sensitivity to the medicines. All the side effects appeared, one after another. Even the doctor said that all the possible side effects from chemotherapy mentioned in the textbooks were there, such as nausea, high fever, bacterial infection, etc. I didn't miss even one of them. For a while, I had to carry a basin with me everywhere because I would vomit at any time.

What was worse, most other patients only need one course of treatment to achieve remission, whereas I needed three. I stayed in the hospital for half a year. I went in with heavy winter clothing and came out with my summer wardrobe. After a trip to the jaws of death, I saw the world outside the hospital as a whole new one.

When I went home, I followed the doctor's instructions to the letter. I took all my medicines and always went back for checkups on time. My life was very normal. My only hope was that the devil of disease would leave me forever. Each time I went back to the hospital for a checkup, I thought my wish would be fulfilled.

In April of the following year, a routine exam showed that my blood cells had become abnormal again. My leukemia had recurred. This time I was furious. I had worked so hard to cooperate with the doctor. Why did the devil come back again? I had led only 11 months of a healthy life. Why was it so unfair?

After another hard cry, I no longer had enough strength to be angry. I could only do the same thing that I had done one and a half years before-pack up, ask for sick leave from the school, and go back into the hospital.

New Life After Bone Marrow Transplant

With more chemotherapy, my reaction to the medicines was as strong as ever. The suffering from the side effects was just as bad as before. Once because of a bacterial infection, I had high fever continuously for two weeks. The doctor used all kinds of antibiotics on me, but they all proved to be useless. I could hardly breathe and became half comatose.

One night I was a little bit awake. Thinking of all the suffering I had been through and the continuous worries and anxieties of my family, I felt that all my courage in fighting against the devil of disease had been drained. I prayed to God, begging him to let me return to his side to rest and not let me undergo the endless ordeal which had exhausted my body and soul.

I don't know whether God heard me or not. Not long afterwards, my fever was gone and I gradually recovered. Once again I defeated the attack of the leukemia. This time, I stayed in the hospital for only five months. I was making progress. The only thing I didn't know was whether the devil would leave me alone after that.

The doctor told me that there was a 70% chance of getting full remission after the first occurrence. After the second recurrence, the chance dropped to 50%. After the third recurrence, it was hard to say. He suggested that I consider a bone marrow transplant to cure it once and for all. That way, I might have a better chance of survival.

I didn't have to give it much consideration. I quickly decided to take the marrow transplant. However, before the transplant, all the original marrow cells had to be killed. If the transplant should not be successful, the only consequence would be death. I was then in a stage of remission. My family members didn't agree that I should take the risk. However, I thought that the transplant should be done while my health was good. If I lost the opportunity, it might be too late and the hope for recovery would be too small. I insisted and my family finally agreed.

I was very fortunate. Other patients had to seek a donor with the matching human leukocyte antigen (HLA) type by every possible means, whereas the HLA type of my sister and two brothers all matched mine. Since my younger brother was in the best health, the doctor chose his marrow for transplant . Without any hesitation, he immediately asked for leave from the army troop he was serving in. I was very grateful to him.

The transplant went smoothly. I stayed in an aseptic room for only 45 days and was then discharged. The moment my brother's marrow was transplanted into me, I felt a warm stream circulating through my whole body. I had a hunch that I would recover.

The Gloom Is Gone