Connie's Story

Today's blog is a guest column by Connie Cox Atkins, my dear friend from the time we were both six years old. She wants to share her story, so feel free to pass it along.

by Connie Atkins

As you may know I have been through a terrible illness. I was diagnosed with a rare form of sarcoma on my right kidney last July. I was treated with one of the meanest combinations of chemo that is used. They used more in me than my doctor said he had ever used on anyone. I had 6 rounds of it that included hospitalization for a week for each treatment. It was given continuously over a 4 day period. I would have to stay the extra days because I was usually too sick to go home. I would have the treatments every three weeks. The tumor on my kidney had destroyed all function and literally had taken over the spot where the kidney used to be. It had grown to approximately 30 pounds. They were able to shrink it to about 15 pounds.

After all the chemo treatments, surgery was done this past February.My surgery took about 6 hours. The surgeons would take turns holding the tumor while the other would carefully cut it away from my body. They had to be careful not to leave any cells for fear of it spreading. With their steady hands being guided by God, they were able to remove the entire thing. I was in intensive care for about nine days. (I do not remember this time.) My remaining kidney shut down. I was placed on dialysis. I am still on dialysis (we don't know how long I will have to do this), but luckily my health continues to improve.

Yesterday was a Glorious day. My kidney doctor took me off of ten pills a day that I was having to take (I still have to take some, but not nearly as many). Today my surgeon told me that they would schedule a removal of the dialysis port (they are using my arm now). All my numbers continue to improve. All because the Lord wants me here a little longer.

I don't know what my purpose is yet, but I am beginning to understand. My most important message to people is to PLEASE GO TO THE DOCTOR! You know your body. You know when something is wrong. I knew something was terribly wrong with me, but I was stubborn, or scared or just downright trifling. I was losing weight. I had no energy. The pain was awful. But I went on. People would ask, but I would make up some excuse. My older brother, Jimmy Cox, died from colon cancer. I guess I was convinced that I too would have the same fate. Then I waited. Then I thought I had waited too long. My dear sweet husband, Jeff Atkins (Bolow to some) is a patient man. He asked, begged, pleaded with me to go to the doctor. His last straw finally came. He was fed up. He told me that he was not going to sit by and watch me die when he knew I could get some help. Jeff, by the way, is also a colon cancer SURVIVER.

That night, Jeff told me that if I refused to go to the doctor to get help then he was going to have to ask me to leave because he would not be a part of me just shriveling up and dying. The look in his eye was one that I wasn't going to play with. I knew he meant business.

I finally agreed to go to the doctor. Like I said, I knew it was very bad. We made plans to go to the emergency room that same weekend. I worked at my job up until the day before I went into the hospital. How I worked I don't know. I was very, very sick. But, as they say, the rest is history.

Now, I'm not writing this for pity, or trying to make myself out to be a martyr. I just want people to know how important it is to go to the doctor when they need to. I could have saved myself a lot of grief. Maybe my other kidney would be working better if I had not had to have so much chemo. Maybe my family would not have had to go through all they did. I don't know. I just know how it did happen. It doesn't have to go this way for everyone. Maybe I'm not even through with it yet. The cancer could come back at any time, but I go to every doctor's appointment I have.

All my family and friends have been so supportive to me: Jeff, Mom, my brother David and his wife Connie, my dear friend Kristie, my two nieces, Julie and Courtney, and my little fishin' buddy Taylor (who never said a word when he saw me with no hair--and would let me talk when I needed to). My extended family has also been there. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would stay with me at the hospital when I was so weak I couldn't get up. They would hold the trash can for me when I was too sick to make it to the bathroom (now that's love).

A lot of prayers have been said for me at the local churches. I appreciate each and every one. They have been heard. Thank you all!