Cancer Survivor

Some of you may (or may not) know that I am a long-time survivor of childhood cancer (leukemia). I just wanted to take a minute to reflect on that. I think writing things down and actually observing them makes me a little more in-tune with life. Keep a few things in mind while I share this part of me with you: some of this I remember, some of it I have COMPLETELY blocked out of my memory, and some of it is what my mom has shared with me throughout the years, a reconstruction of sorts.

Several factors make my cancer discovery, diagnosis, and treatment and absolute anomaly. If it weren't for my mom, I WOULD NOT be alive today, and not just because she was the person to find my cancer, but for so many other reasons (another blog, soon to come). So basically this is what happened. One day my mom was giving me a bath. Like another other 4 year old, I was splashing around and being silly, acting like a crazy-crazbo. Mom decided it was time to wash my little body. I was notorious for running around with my big brother and LOVED to get dirty, so it wasn't uncommon for me to have dirt caked in random places. When scrubbing my upper leg/inner thigh, mom noticed a bump. I'm quite sure she probably looked at it, squeezed it, and asked me questions about it, but clearly I don't remember that.

Like any concerned parent, she made an appointment for me to see a pediatrician. I say A PEDIATRICIAN because mine (Dr. Sorrells...the man who welcomed me into this world...the BEST doctor, ever) was out on vacation or something of the sort. We were referred to a family physician, Dr. Calhoun in Seymour, IN. We go to the appointment. No testing is ordered, he says I must have an "infection." I'm written a prescription for what I'm sure was probably an antibiotic medication, but all I can remember is that it tasted like charred, rotten steak. SICK. Sometime later, probably a week or two, we go back and no changes.

By this point, mom is over it. She just has this feeling that something is wrong. So she calls to see if Dr. Sorrells is back in the office. We get an appointment to go see him. (Everything that happens from here pretty much becomes a blur in my brain). Dr. Sorrells pretty much takes one look at me and says "this kiddo is sick. Let's get her to Riley for some testing."

I can't say that I remember actually being diagnosed with cancer. I probably don't remember 85% of what happened next. I can however, tell you this: everything that I DO remember is AWFUL. What has stuck with me the past 23 years is just being SICK.

At the age of 4, I was diagnosed with a type of leukemia, malignant hystiocytosis. It was such a rare cancer that my team of oncology doctors had NO IDEA how to treat it. A central venous catheter, or central line was placed in my chest. I was to be administered aggressive chemotherapy treatments, 5 days a week, indefinitely. The main drugs that I took were cytoxan, methotrexate, and adriamycin, the LOVELY drug that causes ones' hair to fall out.

I remember waking up from one of my surgeries and having this GIGANTIC bandage wrapped completely around my entire torso. I was so confused, I just wanted it off of me, and the pain in my back was so intense. What had happened in surgery is that bone marrow had been taken out of my spine, or somewhere near it. I remember being sick, that I couldn't lift my head to take a drink. I remember being so disconnected from my father and my brother because I was in Indianapolis at Riley 5 days a week, so I didn't get to see them much.

I remember really awful, gruesome details from spinal taps. And the absolutely disgusting taste of some of those medicines. And having two tubes sticking out of my chest. And always feeling like something was crawling inside the right side of my neck, but OH...that was just my central line moving around. I remember vomiting uncontrollably. I remember being SICK. REALLY FUCKING SICK.

What I also remember is that my mom NEVER, not for one second, left my side. I never spent a night alone in the hospital. I was never deprived foods I wasn't allowed to have because the sodium content was too high. I never NEEDED anything. I never went ONE SINGLE minute without my mom telling me how beautiful I was and how precious my life was to her. I ALWAYS felt my mom's love, beaming on me like sunshine.

So, after 18 months of chemo, multiple surgeries and biopsies, the placement, replacement, and removal of two central lines, emergency trips from Seymour to Indy at 3am, dragging my body through whatever the hell could be thrown at me...I made it. I kicked cancers' ass!!!!