During my last six-month trip in Mexico, I unfortunately suffered with a severe case of Covid-19. Months of coughing, wheezing, and fatigue, along with intermittent fever, made me believe I had long Covid, only to be proven wrong upon my return home to Canada. Persistent symptoms led me to my family doctor, setting off a series of events that would turn my world upside down.
A CT scan revealed two possible cancerous nodules in my right lung. It was then recommended I have a PET scan, as it's more accurate in diagnosing lung cancer than a CT. Due to a long waitlist at my local hospital, my lung surgeon strongly suggested having a PET scan at a private clinic in Vancouver, at the cost of $1000. I had the scan done within three days, and the results were devastating – lung cancer. It hit me hard hearing the word cancer, but I prepared myself for the battle ahead, facing the prospect of losing a significant portion of my lung and undergoing chemotherapy.
Fortunately, in the midst of the gloom, a glimmer of hope appeared a few months later. A painful lung biopsy (which left me with nerve damage) revealed a different diagnosis – histoplasmosis, a treatable fungal infection probably contracted while handling unwashed eggs bought at the local market. It's possible the fungus came from bats, but I hadn't been around any. So, it was thought to have come from washing eggs covered in droppings. From now on, I'll be sure to buy only pre-washed eggs.
When I learned it wasn't cancer but histoplasmosis, I felt a mix of relief and frustration. My family and I had endured three months of uncertainty, fearing the worst and losing sleep over it. So when the surgeon called me with the biopsy results, his casual demeanor, chuckle and flippant comment, "Well, it's not cancer, so be thankful," struck a nerve. Of course, I was thankful, but his lack of acknowledgment of the emotional rollercoaster we'd been on left me feeling angry. An apology for misdiagnosing me would have been appreciated. This served as a stark reminder of the importance for doctors to approach delicate matters with empathy and understanding, considering the profound impact their words can have on patients.
Such a relief, no lung cancer! It was like being handed a second chance at life. However, the path ahead wasn't easy. Following the histoplasmosis diagnosis, I was referred to an infectious disease specialist who prescribed a very strong anti-fungal medication Itraconazole. Enduring months of intensive anti-fungal treatment really put me through the wringer. The side effects of Itraconazole were brutal, leading to frequent hospital visits for blood tests every two weeks. Eventually, I had to stop the treatment prematurely due to its adverse effects on my liver and kidneys. I was treated for 6 months, rather than the planned course of treatment of 12 months.
Now, a year after the misdiagnosis of lung cancer, I'm overjoyed to have my lung function restored and to feel more energetic. The nodules are still visible on a CT scan, but the prognosis is positive that the infection is most likely no longer active. So what's next? More quality time with my family and friends, more adventures, more dog rescues, more travel!
