ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Wednesday, July 10, 1996 TAG: 9607110015
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV-4 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
COLUMN: Community Sports
SOURCE: DAVID MULLINS
On Jan. 17, I learned about the Leukemia Society's Team In Training. I was asked to run Sunday's San Francisco Marathon as a part of a collective fund-raising effort to fight leukemia, Hodgkin's disease and various other forms of cancer. I agreed to do it, but let me tell you, preparing for the 26.2-mile race has been nothing but trouble.
On Nov. 3, Elaine Howell learned she had Hodgkin's disease, a form of cancer that attacks the lymph nodes and then can spread to various organs and the bone marrow. She is 33, married, with two sons, 7 and 11.
First of all, they expect you to raise $2,500 from your friends, family, acquaintances and even perfect strangers. Don't they know how difficult and embarrassing it is to ask people for money, to write letters, to stand in front of shopping centers, to hold car washes, and to sell raffle tickets? I hate it.
Elaine Howell doesn't have insurance to cover her staggering medical expenses. Her chemotherapy alone, 12 sessions over six months, costs $1,000 per session. Without help, she couldn't receive the state-of-the-art treatment she needs. Without the research funded by groups like the Leukemia Society, lots of the effective, new treatments wouldn't even exist.
Of course, they recommend that you get a medical checkup before you begin marathon training. Who has time for all that poking and prodding? And it really hurt when they took that blood sample.
First, they had to remove Elaine's lymph nodes, by out-patient surgery, under general anesthetic. Then came the bone marrow biopsy, where they stuck a hollow 8-inch spiral needle, like a corkscrew, into both hips to extract samples. With Elaine's hard bones, they had to do it eight times. "It was scary, but not really that bad," said Elaine.
And once you start training, it takes up so much of your time. In the 18-week program, I started at 20-some miles per week, with a long run of eight to 10 miles every seven days. Then it builds to 40 or 50 miles a week, with four 20-mile long runs over the middle weeks. All I want to do is just sit down and rest.
Chemotherapy treatments take up to four hours. You have to just sit there and let them drip poison into your veins, one drop at a time. Battery acid, Elaine calls it. And laughs.
And you have to make sure you take in enough fluids on those long runs. Training for a marathon in a hot spring like we had has been awful. On long runs, you have to get on the road by 6 a.m. to beat the heat and even then, you have to take in plenty of fluids to avoid cramps and dehydration. I've been attacked by dogs, swallowed a bug, and struggled to establish a bathroom schedule that will enable me to run a marathon without discomfort. I am getting tired of the taste of Gatorade.
Elaine couldn't take her chemo drugs through a regular IV needle like most people. The stuff was so strong it literally burned away her veins on her first treatment. So they had to make a 1-inch incision below her collar bone, directly above her heart, and implant a rubber, silicone and metal port in her chest. Now they can just stick the 1- to 2-inch IV needle into her port, so that the poison can be poured almost directly into her heart chamber. "It's a lot better," said Elaine.
All the team members have had physical problems. My heel has hurt since Day 1. Jack Hencke's heel hurt so bad he had to quit running for a while. Andrew Rhea's neck hurts. Last week, my new running shoes rubbed a big blister on my right instep. And now I've got chafing in places I didn't even know I had.
Although many people lose their hair during chemotherapy, Elaine was lucky and didn't. But the treatments left her weak and vulnerable to every virus and infection around. One bout with the flu shut down her kidneys and put her in the hospital. Each chemo treatment left her with severe fatigue, muscle pain, nausea, sour stomach and even mouth sores. Elaine says the nausea and vomiting aren't so bad. After throwing up once or twice, it's pretty much just dry heaves for the rest of the day.
I used to look forward to that "snap, crackle and pop" every morning, when it came from my Rice Krispies. I feel differently when the sound is coming from my joints. Sure, the stiffness and soreness usually goes away by midmorning, but it's been a real nuisance. At least I know the pain will end when this marathon mess is over.
Elaine has suffered arthritis-like symptoms during her chemo treatment period, including muscle aches, swelling and extreme soreness. She worries more about her family than herself. "Sometimes I'm so sore it hurts for my boys to hug me. I hate to tell them not to and hurt their feelings."
Well, it won't be long until the marathon. Maybe I can tough it out a little longer. It really helped to write this column. At least now the world knows how I've suffered.
(If you'd like to contribute, make your check payable to Leukemia Society of America and mail to David Mullins, 103 South Hill Drive, Blacksburg, Va. 24060.)
LENGTH: Medium: 88 linesby CNB