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What Is Hodgkins?
Stem Cell Transplants
What Can We Do?
Sara
In The Papers
Team In Training
Picture Book
Pickering's Planner
Pick's Pages
Friday, April 28, 2000
By TED MILLER tedmiller@seattle-pi.com
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER REPORTER
Itching all over. It sounds almost comedic, doesn't it?
Hey, what's wrong with you?
Well, I itch all over. Ha, ha.
But what if you itched all over for three months? What if your fingernails left
trails of blood where you futilely scratched, desperate for relief?
It wouldn't be so funny if you couldn't sleep at night for months because your
skin felt as if it was on fire. It wouldn't be a punch line if you snapped at
well-meaning friends because test after test revealed nothing to doctors.
What if finding out you had cancer revealed what the problem was? Cancer is
a lot of things; none of them funny.
What would it be like to be, say, 24 years old, an elite athlete and learn you
had Hodgkin's disease?
Sara Pickering knows all of these things.
It will be hard to recognize Pickering, the University of Washington's only
two-time, first-team All-American, when she returns to Husky Softball Stadium
this weekend. For one, the 1997 graduate will be sporting the colors of Stanford,
where she is a second-year assistant coach. For another, her long, curly red
hair -- which could barely be contained when she sprinted the bases on her way
to yet another double -- is no longer there
.
It has been shaved down to a crew cut, in order to cheat cancer out of at least
one trophy. Four weeks into her chemotherapy treatments, Pickering is debating
whether she will wear a wig or just sport a baseball cap when her hair disappears
entirely.
"I'm not sure I can wear a wig," she said. "That's not really
me. When you don't feel good, you don't really care anyway."
'A scary thing'
When Stanford visits Washington for a softball series, both teams obviously
want to win. But it's also a homecoming of sorts, filled with good will. The
Cardinal's head coach, John Rittman, was an assistant under Washington's Teresa
Wilson for four years. He helped Wilson build the Huskies from nothing into
a national power.
Rittman recruited Pickering for the Huskies from a club league team in Southern
California coached by his father-in-law. Rittman hired Pickering at Stanford
because her skill and fire on the field would set a good example for a program
battling to push into the elite of the Pac-10.
"She is such a bulldog on the field," said Rittman, using one of Pickering's
many nicknames.
Her work ethic and toughness is the stuff of legend around the softball community.
She ranks in the top three of nearly every Washington career batting category.
Her 271 career games played is tied for second in the Pac-10. Her 91 career
doubles is tops in the conference, 30 ahead of her closest competition.
So when Rittman and his family were driving back to Stanford from Southern California
after Christmas break, with an irritable Pickering in the back seat, he knew
something was amiss. Pickering isn't the sort who would complain about an itch.
"It never stopped," he said. "She'd itch so much that she had
scabs all over her body."
Though itching is a symptom of Hodgkin's disease, the road to this diagnosis
would be long, frustrating and frequently painful.
From January until her late March diagnosis, Pickering would visit a local clinic,
a dermatologist, an allergist, a thyroid specialist, an endocrinologist, an
ear-nose-and-throat doctor, a surgeon and, finally, an oncologist specializing
in Hodgkin's.
She underwent numerous inconclusive tests in January and February. She discovered
a lump in her neck. Doctors ran more tests. The results were negative. Weeks
crawled by; the itching entered its third month.
"I was like 'You have to do something,'" she said. "But at this
point, they were still thinking it wasn't cancer. I wasn't too concerned at
this point. I just wanted the itching to stop. I couldn't function."
More tests. Nothing. Doctors discovered her lymph nodes were swollen. More tests.
Nothing. The itching continued.
Finally, in March, doctors decided to surgically remove a lymph node, which
was necessary to conclusively diagnose Hodgkin's disease. Pickering had to wait
a week to find out her fate. The itching continued.
Then, "The big 'C' word," Pickering said. "For some reason, I
think I knew in the back of my mind. But I was still in shock. It was like,
dang, cancer. That's a scary thing."
Fate can be cruel
Word traveled quickly. While Pickering was receiving her bad news, Wilson, her
former coach, stewed in the dugout watching the Huskies slog through an upset
loss to Northwestern in the Kia Classic in Fullerton, Calif. That defeat suddenly
became meaningless.
Also sitting on the bench watching the game was Washington assistant coach Jennifer
Cline, Pickering's former Husky teammate and close friend. She took a call on
her cell phone. It was Pickering. Cline left the dugout for a conversation that
lasted an hour.
"I was in shock," Cline said. "Sara was more the comforter than
the one who needed to be tended to. Then after awhile, we both cried on the
phone."
Said Wilson after Cline whispered the news to her, "I can remember sitting
there, physically shaking. Sara is the epitome of strength. She is the strongest-willed,
most stubborn kid I've ever coached. Just knowing that almost heightens the
sorrow."
It could have been worse. The five-year survival rate for Hodgkin's disease,
a more treatable form of lymphoma, is roughly 90-95 percent when it is discovered
at an early stage. Death rates have fallen over 60 percent since the early 1970s
because of advances in research.
Hodgkin's, which is a common form of cancer for young adults (ages 15-40), is
a type of white-blood-cell cancer in which the lymphoid tissue, a part of the
immune system that supplies the body with antibodies and white blood cells to
fight infections, is corrupted.
Upon diagnosis, Pickering met with her doctor for three hours. She learned she
would undergo 12 weeks of chemotherapy every Monday and then about two weeks
of radiation treatment that would, hopefully, rid her body of the cancer.
Before the torturous process even started, though, she had to suffer through
another battery of tests, many of which were painful, including a bone marrow
extraction.
But the worst was a lymphangiogram, a lengthy process where dye was injected
into her feet in order to allow the oncology team to view lymph nodes within
her lower body. One of her feet became infected and she had to walk on crutches.
A positive note: the itching stopped. "I keep telling people to remind
me, when I'm having a bad day, that at least I'm not itching anymore,"
Pickering said.
Doctors concluded she had Hodgkin's at stage 2B (out of four progressively more
serious stages). The lymph nodes in her chest, neck (two) and armpit were cancerous,
but no infections were detected in her bone marrow or below her diaphragm. The
prognosis was good, although the treatment would be unpleasant.
What is Hodgkin's disease?
Hodgkin's disease, sometimes called Hodgkin's lymphoma, is a cancer that starts
in lymphatic tissue. Lymphatic tissue includes the lymph nodes and related organs
that are part of the body's immune and blood-forming systems.
The lymph nodes are small, bean-shaped organs found underneath the skin in the
neck, underarm, groin and elsewhere in the body. They are also found inside
the chest, abdomen and pelvis. Lymph nodes make and store infection-fighting
white blood cells, called lymphocytes.
Hodgkin's disease, named after Dr. Thomas Hodgkin who first recognized it in
1832, is a type of malignant lymphoma (cancer of lymphatic tissue). There is
no benign (noncancerous) form of Hodgkin's disease.
KEY STATISTICS:
The American Cancer Society estimates about 7,400 new cases of Hodgkin's disease
will be diagnosed in the United States in 2000. Of the 7,400 new cases, 3,200
will occur in women.
Hodgkin's disease is most common in two age groups: early adulthood (age 15-40,
usually 25-30) and late adulthood (after age 55).
An estimated 1,400 people (700 women, 700 men) will die of Hodgkin's disease
in the United States during 2000. Death rates have fallen over 60 percent since
the early 1970s because of advances in treatment.
Treatment for most cases of Hodgkin's disease is very effective, and includes
chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy. The one-year relative survival rate after
treatment is 93 percent; the five-year and 10-year rates are 82 percent and
72 percent, respectively. At 15 years, the overall survival rate is 63 percent.
-- American Cancer Society
Doctors scheduled her first chemotherapy session for April 3. Then fate punched
her in the stomach again. On April 2, her grandfather, Frank Merritt, suffered
a heart attack. He died on April 8.
If ever a person deserved a moment to shake her fist at the heavens, it was
Pickering.
"To tell you the truth, I didn't have those kinds of thoughts for me,"
she said. "I had those thoughts for my grandpa. He was so healthy. He was
the greatest supporter of softball. That was harder than all my stuff."
Circle of life
Cancer is the villain of this story. But the protagonist -- the hero -- is not
just Pickering. She particularly wants you to know this.
When the mouth sores caused by the unsavory cocktail of drugs in her three-hour
chemotherapy sessions make it impossible to eat; when exhaustion and nausea
wrap her in a dark blanket; when her body aches all over and she can't help
but wonder if eight more weeks of treatment and then two weeks of radiation
are all worth it; chicken soup eases the pain.
"Sara Pickering's Homemade Chicken Soup for the Soul," that is. This
creative offering is a book filled with pictures, letters, inspirational sayings,
crossword puzzles and journal pages -- not to mention schedules for her treatment
sessions.
It's the brainchild of fellow Stanford assistant coach Lonni Alameda, who will
be easy to identify this weekend. She also shaved her head, her tribute to Pickering.
Then there is the video prepared by Cline and members of the Washington athletic
department. It includes highlights from Pickering's playing days and personal
messages from friends and former teammates, as well as Washington athletic director
Barbara Hedges and football coach Rick Neuheisel, among others.
"It's awesome," said Pickering, nearly overcome with emotion. "The
support has been overwhelming."
When the teams square off at 2 p.m. tomorrow, Pickering will throw out the first
pitch. Cline will be on the receiving end.
"It will be a pretty emotional moment for everyone," Cline said.
"Overwhelming" is how Pickering again termed it. The chemotherapy
has drained her and beaten her down. She will be grateful to the thousands of
fans and hundreds of well-wishers she will encounter this weekend, but it won't
be easy to keep flashing that distinctive smile that could brighten a dugout.
This isn't who she really is or who people will remember. Until the cancer is
gone, she can't be the "Bulldog" with the big, flaming hair and smattering
of freckles that caused some to call her "Red."
"It's worn her down," Rittman said. "She wears sunglasses a lot
to hide the tears."
Last summer, Pickering played poorly during tryouts for the Olympic team and
was cut early in the process. Up to that point in her life, she said that was
her most stressful period.
Wilson remembered that Pickering, during her playing days, picked up a motivational
phrase from Rittman while he was still a Huskies assistant: "You gotta
believe."
That became Pickering's oft-repeated mantra, one that she used to encourage
teammates when the pressure was on, the hits were few and the innings were running
out.
You gotta believe.
"You have to have a dream when you go through something like this,"
Wilson said. "I hope her dream is that when she competes in the next Olympics
and a gold medal is hung around her neck, it will mean a whole lot more."
