He said, “I’m sorry, I have bad news. You have small B-cell lymphocytic lymphoma.”
Posted: Sun Feb 22, 2026 10:10 am
He said, “I’m sorry, I have bad news. You have small B-cell lymphocytic lymphoma.”
When I heard the word lymphoma, I immediately knew it meant cancer. I started crying and asked him if I was going to die. No one is ever really prepared for news like that. Even talking about it now makes me emotional.
It was 3 p.m. on January 15. I had been expecting the doctor’s call. I told my sister and a friend that I would contact them afterward. Because of COVID, I was home when the phone rang. It was Dr. T — the same doctor who hadn’t believed me before. This time his tone was different. He sounded serious, not dismissive like before. I knew something was wrong.
He asked if I was at home. I said yes. He asked if I was alone. I said yes. Then he asked if I was sitting down. At that point, I knew I was about to hear something bad.
He said, “You have small B-cell lymphocytic lymphoma.”
I started crying and asked if I was going to die. He said, “No, no, you won’t die.” But he didn’t really explain anything about the illness. He just told me he was referring me to a hematologist at the cancer agency and that they would call me next week.
I told him I hoped everything had been done as quickly as possible. I didn’t say it directly, but I meant that I knew he hadn’t believed me earlier. He insisted he had made many calls to speed things up. I didn’t really believe that.
Waiting for the Referral
I waited for the hematologist to call on Monday. Nothing. Tuesday passed. Still nothing. By Wednesday, I still hadn’t heard from anyone, so I called. The referral fax hadn’t gone through.
I called Dr. T back and asked for the hematologist’s name so I could follow up myself. He gave it to me, and I called their office. Eventually the referral was sent.
After the diagnosis call, I cried a lot. But once I hung up, I walked around my apartment saying out loud, “I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. I knew it.”
I was upset about having lymphoma, but I also felt vindicated. People who hadn’t believed me were shocked. Some apologized. My sister said they thought I was just stressed. A coworker said they thought I was overreacting.
First Hematologist Appointment — January 21
My first appointment with the hematologist was on January 21, which was also my 46th birthday. Not exactly the birthday I wanted.
The appointment was a phone consultation that lasted an hour. I spoke with an assistant first, then the doctor. They asked many questions about my history and symptoms. I felt relieved that someone finally believed me and wanted details.
They explained the next steps:
A bone marrow biopsy to check for involvement
Genetic testing on the cancer cells
A follow-up CT scan to compare with one from four months earlier
All of this had to be done before treatment.
Test Results and Staging
A few weeks later, they told me the results:
40% bone marrow involvement
CT scan showed lymph nodes enlarging rapidly
I was stunned. I started thinking that maybe this explained symptoms like burning knees and hip pain.
They didn’t explain my genetic test results but said I needed treatment right away. The doctor said, “You’re pretty sick. You need treatment immediately.” He told me my only option was FCR chemotherapy.
I asked for a second opinion before starting treatment. On February 17, the second review came back. The pathologist added that it met criteria for accelerated SLL, meaning histologically aggressive disease.
When I obtained my report, I saw it also mentioned unmutated IGHV, which is associated with poorer prognosis. Hearing “aggressive” and “poor prognosis” at the same time was frightening.
Questioning the Treatment Plan
The second opinion did not change the treatment recommendation. They still wanted FCR chemotherapy. I told the doctor I was scared and unsure about proceeding.
During the next few weeks, I researched extensively. I was doing my master’s degree in English at the time, so research was one of my strengths. I read medical journals and learned that FCR is often not recommended for patients with unmutated IGHV because:
It may be less effective
Relapse can occur quickly
It may cause further mutations
I also found that in several regions, another drug — ibrutinib — was being used as first-line treatment for patients with this genetic status.
Confrontation With the Doctor
At my February 25 appointment, I told the hematologist what I had learned. I said I didn’t think chemotherapy was the right treatment for me.
He responded that he didn’t have time to read studies and that I had “read too much.” He scheduled chemotherapy for March 16.
As that date approached, I felt like I was being sent to the electric chair. I knew in my gut it wasn’t the right treatment.
Advocating for Myself
I called the cancer agency and told the nurse I felt pressured into treatment that didn’t feel right. I said it was adding to the trauma I already experienced from not being believed earlier. The nurse said she thought I might have medical PTSD. She spoke to the doctor.
An hour later, the doctor called back and said he would apply for special funding for ibrutinib. He also said I might not qualify and warned that without treatment I might have about a year to live.
He submitted the application while we spoke. He said he should know within 72 hours.
Two days later, he called from his kitchen — I could hear dishes and kids in the background — and told me it was approved. I thanked him. He thanked me too. He said he hadn’t known approval was possible in cases like mine and that he would try to do this for more patients in the future.
When I heard the word lymphoma, I immediately knew it meant cancer. I started crying and asked him if I was going to die. No one is ever really prepared for news like that. Even talking about it now makes me emotional.
It was 3 p.m. on January 15. I had been expecting the doctor’s call. I told my sister and a friend that I would contact them afterward. Because of COVID, I was home when the phone rang. It was Dr. T — the same doctor who hadn’t believed me before. This time his tone was different. He sounded serious, not dismissive like before. I knew something was wrong.
He asked if I was at home. I said yes. He asked if I was alone. I said yes. Then he asked if I was sitting down. At that point, I knew I was about to hear something bad.
He said, “You have small B-cell lymphocytic lymphoma.”
I started crying and asked if I was going to die. He said, “No, no, you won’t die.” But he didn’t really explain anything about the illness. He just told me he was referring me to a hematologist at the cancer agency and that they would call me next week.
I told him I hoped everything had been done as quickly as possible. I didn’t say it directly, but I meant that I knew he hadn’t believed me earlier. He insisted he had made many calls to speed things up. I didn’t really believe that.
Waiting for the Referral
I waited for the hematologist to call on Monday. Nothing. Tuesday passed. Still nothing. By Wednesday, I still hadn’t heard from anyone, so I called. The referral fax hadn’t gone through.
I called Dr. T back and asked for the hematologist’s name so I could follow up myself. He gave it to me, and I called their office. Eventually the referral was sent.
After the diagnosis call, I cried a lot. But once I hung up, I walked around my apartment saying out loud, “I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. I knew it.”
I was upset about having lymphoma, but I also felt vindicated. People who hadn’t believed me were shocked. Some apologized. My sister said they thought I was just stressed. A coworker said they thought I was overreacting.
First Hematologist Appointment — January 21
My first appointment with the hematologist was on January 21, which was also my 46th birthday. Not exactly the birthday I wanted.
The appointment was a phone consultation that lasted an hour. I spoke with an assistant first, then the doctor. They asked many questions about my history and symptoms. I felt relieved that someone finally believed me and wanted details.
They explained the next steps:
A bone marrow biopsy to check for involvement
Genetic testing on the cancer cells
A follow-up CT scan to compare with one from four months earlier
All of this had to be done before treatment.
Test Results and Staging
A few weeks later, they told me the results:
40% bone marrow involvement
CT scan showed lymph nodes enlarging rapidly
I was stunned. I started thinking that maybe this explained symptoms like burning knees and hip pain.
They didn’t explain my genetic test results but said I needed treatment right away. The doctor said, “You’re pretty sick. You need treatment immediately.” He told me my only option was FCR chemotherapy.
I asked for a second opinion before starting treatment. On February 17, the second review came back. The pathologist added that it met criteria for accelerated SLL, meaning histologically aggressive disease.
When I obtained my report, I saw it also mentioned unmutated IGHV, which is associated with poorer prognosis. Hearing “aggressive” and “poor prognosis” at the same time was frightening.
Questioning the Treatment Plan
The second opinion did not change the treatment recommendation. They still wanted FCR chemotherapy. I told the doctor I was scared and unsure about proceeding.
During the next few weeks, I researched extensively. I was doing my master’s degree in English at the time, so research was one of my strengths. I read medical journals and learned that FCR is often not recommended for patients with unmutated IGHV because:
It may be less effective
Relapse can occur quickly
It may cause further mutations
I also found that in several regions, another drug — ibrutinib — was being used as first-line treatment for patients with this genetic status.
Confrontation With the Doctor
At my February 25 appointment, I told the hematologist what I had learned. I said I didn’t think chemotherapy was the right treatment for me.
He responded that he didn’t have time to read studies and that I had “read too much.” He scheduled chemotherapy for March 16.
As that date approached, I felt like I was being sent to the electric chair. I knew in my gut it wasn’t the right treatment.
Advocating for Myself
I called the cancer agency and told the nurse I felt pressured into treatment that didn’t feel right. I said it was adding to the trauma I already experienced from not being believed earlier. The nurse said she thought I might have medical PTSD. She spoke to the doctor.
An hour later, the doctor called back and said he would apply for special funding for ibrutinib. He also said I might not qualify and warned that without treatment I might have about a year to live.
He submitted the application while we spoke. He said he should know within 72 hours.
Two days later, he called from his kitchen — I could hear dishes and kids in the background — and told me it was approved. I thanked him. He thanked me too. He said he hadn’t known approval was possible in cases like mine and that he would try to do this for more patients in the future.