Flip It For Life

and brother with some bad news. Although the hospital did not have a hematologist on staff that morning, he thought that I
and brother with some bad news. Although the hospital did not have a hematologist on staff that morning, he thought that I
had leukemia. After being informed of this, I got up out of the hospital bed and went to the bathroom. I remember looking in
the mirror and thinking they must be mistaken, this isn't happening to me. I'm only 29. A few minutes later, I returned to my
hospital bed, at which time the doctor said I would be taken to Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston via ambulance. Both
my brother and I knew this was pretty serious, since they were going to transport me right away. The first phone call I made
was to my mother. I remember telling her very calmly that I was in the ER and they think I have leukemia. She said she was
getting on the next plane out of Fort Lauderdale. After speaking with my mother, I called my husband, who was on vacation in
Wisconsin. He was devastated and flew home that day after encountering two cancelled flights. My father, at that time, was
also out of town and rushed home immediately. My brother contacted the rest of my family. Next thing I knew, I was in an
ambulance on the way to Boston. I was alone in the ambulance, as my brother followed behind. Once we arrived at Brigham
and Women's, I was taken directly to the ER, where they drew my blood immediately. About an hour lapsed before two
doctors came into my room and shut the door. They confirmed that Norwood Hospital was correct; I had leukemia.
doctors came into my room and shut the door. They confirmed that Norwood Hospital was correct; I had leukemia.

I remained in the ER for about an hour before being admitted onto the cancer floor. During this time, my family began to
arrive. First, my cousin Cheryl and then Aunt Jackie; one by one, my support system showed up. Finally I was taken to my
room and was welcomed by my stepmother and part of her family. Within minutes, a nurse entered the room, at which time
she asked everyone to leave the room so she could ask me questions. After the questioning, my family entered the room but
it had multiplied. Within a couple of hours my mother, father and husband all arrived. Over the next few days, after having a
bone marrow biopsy, I was told by my oncologist that I had AML (acute myeloid leukemia). We discussed the course of
treatment and I began my chemotherapy the very next day. After two to three days of treatment, my hair began falling out and
I asked the nurse to shave my head. When I told all of my brothers I had no hair, they all shaved their hair too. This was just
another way that my family showed their support. I spent the next month in the hospital during which time there was always
a family member by my side. Every night, they would take turns sleeping on the cot in my room. My brother, Mark, is the one
who I wanted to stay most nights. He's my older brother, and I think I found comfort in that as well as a sense of protection.
We had a routine: he would go to the cafeteria to get his milk and night time snacks, which included kettle chips and pudding.
We would talk and then watch tv until about eight-thirty, all the while he would be texting Lauren.

The month went by and I was able to leave the hospital early in October. Every four to six weeks, over the course of the next
six months, I would need to spend another week in the hospital for more chemotherapy treatments. In between treatments, I
would go to Dana Farber and have my blood drawn. Usually, I required getting blood and platelets, as having the chemo would
cause me to become neutropenic. My mother or father would spend countless hours at Dana Farber with me until we were
able to leave. Since I was neutropenic (having a severely suppressed immune system), I spent a vast majority of the time in
my house. I was extremely fortunate to have my mother stay at my house over the next few months.

In December, I celebrated my 30th birthday at my house with friends and family. I wasn't feeling my best as I had just had
chemo one week before. On Christmas, I went to my father's house, with my mask and gloves on, in hopes that I would not
get sick from anyone there. On December 29th, at approximately one thirty in the morning, I woke up feeling sick. I had a
fever, so my mother and stepfather took me to Brigham and Women's emergency room. I don't remember much after that,
as my fever was getting worse due to an infection. As I have been told by my family, I was admitted into the hospital and on
January 2nd 2007, I was taken to the Intensive Care Unit. My lungs began to fill with blood and I went into cardiac arrest. The
doctors were able to revive me and I remained in the ICU over the next month. I was put into a medically induced coma. My
body slowly began to shut down, my kidneys and liver rapidly declined. My liver regenerated, but my kidneys did not; I had
been put on dialysis. Everyday my family, unknowingly to me, would visit me and spend countless hours in the family waiting
room. They would ask the doctors, "is she out of the woods," and everyday they would say "it's touch and go." In early
February, when no one in my family was there, the doctors took me out of the coma to see if I was able to breathe on my own.
If not, they would give me a tracheotomy. I remember waking up to nurses and doctors all around me with oxygen masks
constantly covering my face. I was scared and confused; they calmed me down and stayed with me. My family began to
arrive and they were so grateful to see me awake and with my eyes open. I was unable to speak after having a tube down my
throat for so long.
After a few days, I was sent to the Youville Rehabilitation Facility in Cambridge, MA, where I would re-learn to eat, drink, talk
and walk. I had no muscle control in my hands and I was unable to walk. I gradually learned to stand and then walk with a
walker. Everyday I got stronger and stronger. My husband would come every night and spend an hour or two with me; he
would lotion my legs and feet (I got a lot of people to do this dirty job!). My family also came whenever possible: my mom
always came with her iced coffee in hand and the latest gossip magazines. My siblings, Mark, Dave, Jay, Rachel and Jake,
came with games to play (even if I couldn't stay awake for them) and even a hand made book of poems! I remained on
dialysis while in rehab, as my kidneys were still not functioning more than 5 to 10 percent. After what seemed like an
eternity, I was able to leave rehab on March 8th with my walker. My rehabilitation would not end here; I spent most of the next
few months in out-patient rehab. My kidneys began to get better, to the point where I did not need dialysis. My oncologist had
told my family that although I did not receive my last 2 treatments of chemo, I had no more blasts in my blood, and I had
received enough. He explained that the last 2 treatments were an insurance policy. Every month, I would go to Dana Farber,
with either of my parents, and have my blood drawn. I would wait for my results and my doctor would give me the great
news that I was still in remission!

It is a year later, and I am still in remission. I have another 4 years to go until I am completely cured. For the rest of my life, I
will need to see my kidney doctor, but my kidneys are now functioning around 30 percent, which was once thought to be
impossible. Throughout the course of my illness, I always remained positive with a good outlook on life, and with my family's
help, support and comfort, I was able to see that I had a future. Never once did I question why this happened to me; instead I
accepted it and conquered it! Life has become more precious to me and I thank God everyday for allowing me to live another
day. My advice for anyone who is in a trying or life threatening situation, is to PUT IT INTO PERSPECTIVE, because no matter
how bad things get theres always someone out there suffering worse.

I want to thank my husband, family and friends for all of their support and love! I can't imagine my journey to recovery without
them.

-Robin Hansen