What is the one thing that’s going to get me across the finish line of the NYC Marathon on November 5th? Well, two things. My legs. ​

I have never been one to celebrate my legs. I wasn't blessed with "legs for days." It’s not that I don’t like them. But I never really loved them. Until I got sick.

In the summer of 2014, Aaron and I were working at our usual camp gig. Three weeks into the summer, I noticed a raised bump on each shin. They were painful to the touch, but not really more bothersome than that. I was working 14 hour days and at the culmination of staging a full-scale production of Avenue Q in less than three weeks. I figured I wasn’t dead, the bites would eventually calm down, and I’d go on my merry way.

A few days later, it was double day off. The bites had become circular discs of raised bumps. My feet and ankles were swollen and I felt like death.

Aaron took me to urgent care. The doctor looked at my legs, claimed she had never seen anything like them, but that she wasn’t worried as lots of counselors had come in over the summer with weird bites. She prescribed an antibiotic and told me to go to emergency if it wasn’t better in a couple of days.

The next morning I felt like I had the worst flu in the history of flus. Quite frankly, I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again. That day happened to be RENT auditions, and there was no way I was missing out. I sat propped up on a couch with my team, and tried to look cheerful when the kids came in to sing and dance.

After lunch, I was done. My legs were oozing pus and I was in agony. I went to the infirmary and spent the night throwing up.

In the morning, the doctor took one look at me and sent me to hospital. Within twenty-four hours I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia and taken to Danbury Hospital to start treatment.

Thanks to being dosed up morphine for my legs, I don’t actually remember the next two weeks. I have photographic evidence to prove that once I started chemo, something weird happened to my legs. It was like something out of Alien. The discs went yellow, and were surrounded by large red and purple splotches. If you want to see gross pictures (seriously, they're gross, you have been warned), you may click here. 

I was poked and prodded and goggled at by dermatologists, specialists from infectious diseases, and a whole bunch of curious interns. The wounds were dressed and wrapped on a daily basis, and I still can’t believe I didn’t pass out every time they unwrapped the horror. I actually found it fascinating. Must have been the morphine.

My oncologist at Sloan Kettering later told me he thought I was hitting on him when I asked if he wanted to look at my legs. He had somehow missed it in my chart.

It is unnerving to have specialist after specialist they have never seen anything like your legs before. According to the stem-cell transplant team, I am one of about thirty patients in leukemia literature to present with this infected skin/bug bite thing. At first, my team were not sure if I could safely have a stem-cell transplant. The skin was biopsied and returned no conclusive result.

My legs took several months to heal, and post-transplant, my legs were the least of my worries.

I now have beautiful mandala-shaped scars on each leg. They are unlikely to go away, but I’m proud of them. Whatever caused them literally saved my life. I may never have coveted legs for days, but I have many days more thanks to my legs. 

To celebrate three years post-transplant, my lovely legs and I are going to run the NYC Marathon. ​​Will you help me say thank you to my team by helping me raise $5000 towards leukemia research at Sloan Kettering? We’re so close to my goal! If you can’t make a financial contribution, please consider sharing my story!