I signed lots of paperwork to participate in the clinical trial. If I had to have cancer, I was at least proud to play a small role in research.

Betsy de Parry | Contributor

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Of course I never asked Dr. Kaminski the questions I wrote in the "Dear Doctor" letter, nor did he ever say any of the things that Dr. Hammer so eloquently expressed in his "Dear Patient" response. 

Dr. Kaminski didn't have to say anything. His actions—and those of his colleagues—spoke volumes, and their unspoken words were beginning to convince Alex and me that Team Kaminski would indeed treat my future as if it were their very own. They were, in fact, treating me like a real human being who just happened to have cancer. It wasn't their fault that I was beginning to feel less like a human being and more like an unwilling and unprepared draftee in a nuclear attack.

Under the circumstances, Alex and I took comfort in knowing that Team Kaminski (a.k.a. The Multidisciplinary Lymphoma Clinic) consisted of a group of highly trained specialists who met each week to review cases. I imagined a room full of five-star generals convening to plot a winning strategy to beat a sly and cunning adversary. My adversary. One that apparently would lay low for awhile but return after being beaten back. I would gladly take all the help I could get.

Still, what was my role on the team? I concluded that I would be a whole lot happier in my unhappy situation if I set realistic expectations and worked with, not against, Dr. Kaminski, and so I delegated the technical details to him, although Alex and I continued our lymphoma education. I also decided to concentrate on keeping myself as healthy as possible other than the cancer and to follow Dr. Kaminski's instructions to the tee. I vowed to be the epitome of a compliant patient - which was easy until he gave me instructions that scared the daylights out of me.

It was time to begin treatment. I wasn't ready. Worse, I had options. And neither Alex nor I felt qualified or comfortable to make a decision that would affect my very life.

Patiently, Dr. Kaminski explained the options - again. He also told us about some new treatments in clinical trials and even a couple under FDA review, but what I heard was that it was my job to stay alive long enough for something new to become available. At that moment, though, some type of chemo was my only option, and because of the recurring nature of my type of lymphoma, it was best to start with the light artillery and work my way up to the big guns. Does any kind of chemo sound "light" to you? I didn't think so.

There was a clinical trial available using the same "light" chemotherapy that I would be taking at first, but it also gave me a 2-to-1 chance of receiving a vaccine six months after treatment if I stayed in remission that long. I signed up. More accurately, I signed a stack of papers in exchange for an invitation to a bone marrow biopsy and the infusion room. Dates, times and places were all confirmed. And the countdown to chemo began.

Coming Oct. 15: Countdown to chemo

The University of Michigan produced an informative series of videos about clinical trials and is currently enrolling in more than 450 trials for a variety of health conditions. U-M Clinical Studies can help you find out if one is right for you. Its toll-free number is (877) 536-4243.

Betsy de Parry is the author of The Roller Coaster Chronicles and host of a series of webcasts about cancer. Find her on Facebook or Twitter or e-mail her.