Chapter 2 - The Enemy Has a Name
- Kevin Pashuk
- Aug 10
- 2 min read
Updated: Aug 11
Leukemia was now part of my vocabulary.
Not exactly the word I had been hoping to add that week, but there we were.
The doctors were waiting for the final biopsy details. They knew enough to begin planning, but not yet enough to identify the precise form of acute leukemia.
One possibility was acute promyelocytic leukemia, or APL, a subtype requiring immediate treatment because of its associated risks. The other was acute myeloid leukemia, or AML, which
had a different treatment protocol but was also a serious and aggressive disease.
When the tests showed I did not have APL, I said, “Whew! It’s not the dangerous one.”
Then I paused.
“Wait. What?”
As it turned out, AML was dangerous enough.
The diagnosis came with frightening facts, but it also came with something I desperately needed: a plan.
Before my admission, the word cancer had very sharp edges. We had lost Leslie’s younger sister to cancer only a few months earlier. That loss was still close enough to touch.
Now cancer was back in our family.
Nobody was ready for another funeral.
Nobody wanted to learn another hospital system, another treatment schedule, another set of medications, another language of decline and hope.
Strangely, knowing it was leukemia offered a measure of comfort. I knew people who had survived leukemia. There were established protocols. There were specialists who knew what to do. Other people had walked this road before me.
The diagnosis was serious.
It was not hopeless.
That distinction mattered.
Naming the Fear
Fear is often most powerful when it is vague.
A formless threat can occupy every corner of the mind. It can borrow the shape of every bad story you have ever heard.
A named disease is still frightening, but it is no longer shapeless.
AML had a definition. It had tests, specialists, schedules, risks, treatment protocols, and options. It had an experienced medical team prepared to respond.
There is a difference between saying, “Something is terribly wrong,” and saying, “This is what is wrong, and this is what we are going to do next.”
The second statement does not guarantee an outcome.
It does create a place to stand.
The enemy now had a name.
That meant we could begin learning how to fight it.
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