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September of 2001 was not a good month for anyone, including me-As if 9/11 wasn't enough.

It was the end of the month, and I had been feeling physically ill for most of the last three weeks. In fact, I had been setting appointments to see my family practice doctor nearly every 4-5 days. My back hurt like nothing I had ever imagined. I felt weak and I was sweating at times when I shouldn't be sweating.

It was strange.

My doctor started by examining me, and finding nothing definitive- he prescribed pain medicine. When that didn't help, he changed meds. Still, nothing changed for the better and I was still complaining of pain.

At one point, I was actually hoping I had kidney stones. But, when a Urologist found nothing wrong, it was back to my family practice doctor.

Then something new occurred. I was becoming unable to utilize a fork or spoon with my hand. This was scary, and yet I had never really thought that there was something serious occurring inside me.

Another week went by, and another visit to my doctor. This time he said, "I want you to go immediately to the ER and I'll call them and tell them you're coming. I'm ordering a battery of tests and you'll probably be there a couple of days."

I was a little surprised that I was being admitted, but by now I was ready for anything if it would provide some answers.

After arriving at the ER, blood was drawn and tested. After about an hour, an intern came into the exam room and informed me that the blood test had shown that I had ZERO white blood cells. No white blood cells!

I knew this was serious. White blood cells help fight infection, and I had none. All it would take was a good swift wind and I'd be susceptible. What was causing this?

I was admitted and spent the next 48 hours having every test you could imagine: More blood draws, Scans, MRIs, Spinal taps, and finally a Bone Marrow biopsy. These tests were very exhausting to me, and I actually asked at one point if I couldn't just sleep for a few hours. But, there was no let up. They knew they had to find out the exact cause of my illness.

On the morning of my third day in the hospital, four doctors came into my room and one sat on the corner of my bed. What he said to me recorded itself in my mind forever. It plays back at slow-speed every now and again.

He said, "We've identified what is wrong with you. You have Acute-Myeloid-Leukemia."

He waited for a moment while those words traveled through my ears and slammed into

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