More specifically, I am Al’s Primary Cutaneous T-Cell Lymphoma. Even more specifically, I’m Al’s Anaplastic Large Cell Lymphoma. Or, you could just call me Cancer, but you’re better off not calling me at all, and hoping that I never call you.
Al is fortunate to have me. Really. There are many types of lymphoma more aggressive than I am. I hear medical staff describe me as non-aggressive, indolent, and slow-growing, and honestly, I find this kind of insulting. I’m no wimp-phoma. I usually affect the skin only, but in one in ten people, I will progress further to the lymph nodes and/or internal organs, with serious complications. And now, I’m doing my best to ruin Al’s day, maybe even ruin Al. Goals.
So, where did I come from? Who can say? Theories abound. Here’s mine.
Al has ulcerative colitis. (For more on that, see “I Am Al’s Ulcerative Colitis.”) For the past several years, he has been treated intravenously with an immunosuppressive drug. Every eight weeks, he sits in an infusion therapy room with other patients, most of whom are undergoing chemotherapy for cancer. There is some irony in the fact that he is sitting there having a drug infused that allowed me, a form of cancer, to sneak past his body’s compromised defenses.
In November, I manifest myself as an anonymous sore. My way of saying hello. Just an angry purplish bump on Al’s upper thigh—more specifically, his right inguinal area. “Inguinal” is a nice way of saying “groin.”
(Truthfully, I manifested myself much earlier in Al in the form
