FrancisM's Happy Battle

Photo of us in the 1990s hehe....

While other couples had looked forward to this "special" date, and most had even reserved it for their wedding day years ahead, I received FM's diagnosis of leukemia (and later, specifically AML) from our doctors.

I remember the details--only when I choose to actually relive the experience--quite clearly, of when I was told.

It was early in the evening of August 8, 2008 and I remember we were back in Room 727 of the Medical City, after his being in the ICU for 2 days-and-a-half of his vital signs being monitored. 

It was almost 8PM and we were both lying in his bed, while one of our daughters was lying on the visitors' couch. The three of us were counting down--together with the rest of the world--to the opening of the 29th Olympics held in Beijing. This was a very big deal for us because of China's proximity to the Philippines.    

As the countdown was progressing, our infectious disease doctor checked in, asking the usual "how are you doing?" questions. She also emphatically insisted that they were imposing reverse isolation on FM's room as he was highly susceptible to infection, thus, no visitors were to be allowed in the following days. We just kept nodding our heads in agreement, thinking this was routine. 

As she was about to step out, she motioned to me, "may I borrow Pia for awhile?" she asked FM. "I will brief her on how to...," I can't remember what excuse it was she used, but I dutifully followed her out the door, believing I was just going to be given some instructions.

I closed the door behind me and we stood in the hall with the nurses' station just in front of us. I was facing them, and I noticed people--many of them civilians--walking by, some giving me a curious look, as they recognized who I was.

Dr Tayzon started: "uhm... the tests have come back. Your husband has... leukemia." 

(Me, inside my head: "Huh? Say that again? Leukemia? Hmm... I've never really given much thought to that word, I wonder what she means...")

Me to Dr Tayzon: "Uhm... ok... so what do you mean? I'm not too familiar, but IS IT BAD (super naive/stupid? question) and what should we do? Uhm... I mean it comes in different kinds, right? Like, how many? Hundreds? or just a few? What do you want us to do?"

Dr Tayzon: "Well, the thing is, it's only 90% sure for now; we still have to find out exactly what type it is, so we will know how to treat it... Dr Ona is having another expert read the results."

Being the positive person I am, I held on to those four words: how to treat it. So I asked, "but it is treatable, right?" 

Dr Tayzon: "Yes. But Dr Ona (the hematologist) will be the one to give you the details. BTW, what kind of person is your husband? I mean, can we tell him? Can we talk to him straight?"

Me: "Oh, yes. Knowing Franz, he'd rather you tell him, then he'll tell me."

And that was that.

Normally, I'm the worst crybaby on earth. I cry when I'm happy, I cry when I'm sad, when I'm profoundly touched, when I'm excited, blah-blah. For any reason, actually. But I surprised myself and found out that when it's crunch time, I can actually control myself. So, I went back into the room and acted as if nothing happened. 

The look on Francis' face at that exact moment, though, is one I'll never forget. As I re-entered, he was looking at me with eyes that had such a scared expression on them, expecting me to tell him something horrid. 

I just got back into bed with him, under the blankets and we went back to watching the show of fireworks on TV. He enjoyed the opening ceremonies so much, and he said he felt so proud of China because we're all Asians. True. 

The moment I came back into the room, I put away all the info I'd just received from the doctor, since I believed there was nothing I could achieve at that moment, and worrying wasn't going to get me anywhere!

Later that night, I drove home with my daughter and we did the usual laughing in the car, fooling around that we always do together. I wasn't about to share the info with her, before her Dad and I had our moment with it. 

When all the kids were in bed, I went online and did research on all the kinds of leukemia. I cried alone for a bit before going to sleep myself.

The next morning, I went back to spend the day with Franz. Dr Gerry Sabado, his very close friend and co-Camera Club member who helped us check in just days before, was in the room with him. When I stepped in, he suddenly stood up and we said quick goodbyes. Then, Francis called me to join him in bed. "Hoo... I have... leukemia," he said, holding me in his arms, and stroking my upper arm. "I know," I said. And we both had a good cry.