NATALIE'S STORY
NATAILE (seated) IS PICTURED HERE WITH HER SISTER JOI
My name is Natalie Stevenson. I am 28 years old. I wanted to tell you the story of my life.
In the spring of 2001, I was a single, independent working class female. I was a nursing assistant with a wonderful job and loving life, but then my life took an unexpected turn for the worse. It all began in the middle of summer 2001. The first thing I noticed were lumps on the right side of my neck close to the collarbone. It was not painful so I really thought nothing much about it. Shortly after that, about a month, I had tremendous difficulty in speaking, swallowing, and breathing due to the lumps (which were subsequently diagnosed as tumors) that had developed in my neck and chest. As my health faded, I pushed forward and denied that I needed help. The lump on my neck had gotten larger. My mother felt this had gone on long enough, she sent me to the emergency room at the Detroit Medical Center. Because I could not afford health insurance, I was given very little help; in fact I was told to come back when I had insurance. Once I got back home, calls were made and I went to see the oncology doctors at Henry Ford Hospital. I was diagnosed on September 4, 2001 with non-Hodgkin's T-Cell lymphoma and began chemotherapy immediately. After nine months of chemo, my cancer was declared to be in remission. Shortly after I was in for my three-month check-up, the cancer was back and it was worse. My only chance was to have a bone marrow transplant. I had to come up with five thousand dollars to look for a bone marrow match, and there was no luck. The next option was a possible transplant from an umbilical cord. I was told I had no choice. I had no other options. It was the experimental transplant or be dead in six months. I got the transplant on October 21, 2002. I spent the next 4 1/2 months in the hospital. While in the hospital, my recovery was very tormenting. My hair fell out as it did with the months of chemo before, but now I had many difficulties with my heart, lungs, kidneys, bowels, and lots of bodily swelling. I was in the ICU on new years eve 2003 due to the many complications. When I went in to the hospital, I weighed 208 pounds. I gained up to 230 pounds. Full of water, my body stretched and scared. My mother, father, and aunt spent several nights at the hospital just to see me through. By the time I was strong enough to go home I weighed about 155 pounds. I lost weight, water, and life. I was put on several restrictions. My restrictions consisted of the following: no going to public places; I always had to wear a mask over my nose when outside; I couldn t be around children, plants, pets, or anyone who was sick, i.e. cold/flu. I could have no fresh fruit and vegetables. I could not cook for myself or wash dishes. I could not have any restaurant or pre-prepared food. All of these restrictions were implemented to keep me away from any form of infection. I had to check in to the hospital three days a week to make sure that my blood counts were ok and to keep a general close eye on my progress. The number of days that I have to check in will slowly decrease unless I need more monitoring or if I get sick or acquire some infection. Still plagued with several hospital stays I have supposedly made it through the woods, but where I go from here is the worst misery yet. I was a changed and scared woman and I was in the fight of my life, a fight that either I had to beat or it would beat me. I thought that the fight was over once my cancer was in remission and I thought life would go back to normal, but I had no normal any more life any more. I had no job, no car, no male companion, no life. I was told that I would need 24-hour care for at least six months, possibly for years. I lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the third floor. I had to move to a larger apartment on the first floor and my father had to take time off from work to care for me. Once his limited time for work was up, my sister came to live with me in the early summer of 2003. So now my father and my sister and myself live in the two-bedroom apartment. I still after a year later I still have restrictions. I cannot work and make a living for myself and I will always have a compromised immune system and I will always have to be careful not to expose myself to any illness. Now I am 28 years old and I feel I have no place in the world. I still have limitations on things. Even though I made the choice to have the surgery to save my life, I often wonder if I made the right choice, but what is done is done and that is my burden to carry. That is my story, and I feel it needs to be heard.
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