I have always been hesitant to talk about this but after I saw Andy here open up about his triumph, I felt inspired to let it out.
I had leukemia when I was two years old. The doctors didn't know why I developed the disease as no one in my family had contracted the disease before. Although leukemia is more common in children, the diagnoses was unexpected.
I don't remember being told I had the disease. My earliest memories are of me being probed by doctors and being in a hospital bed. I didn't get it.
Without any knowledge of how a kid is suppose to live, I thought this was normal, something all children endured.
As I moved along in my three year treatment, I began to realize that I was different. I began to resent myself. I wondered why I was bald as a four year old, why I couldn't ever be around other kids, and why I was always attached to some type of machine.
My dad took it the hardest, when he found out I was 70% likely to die. My mother sat by me the whole time. She did more for me in those three years than most mothers do in a lifetime. My gratitude is not something I can articulate just yet.
I was recently told that I was part of a group that would receive a particular treatment. On the day of the scheduled treatment, my regular doctor called and advised my family against letting me take it. My parents decided to hold out and wait. Each of the kids that took the treatment in that group died. It still shakes me up to think about.
After being pumped with numerous drugs, I finally was recovered. My hair started to grow back and I regained strength. It wasn't until years later where doctors cleared me as 100%.
The next few years were the hardest. Although I was better, I was still being tested for progress. At this point, I was almost embarrassed of my bad luck. I told kids that I got to skip school for fun when in reality, I was getting ultrasounds and needles jammed into my back for marrow. Whenever I would have to take my shirt off, I would tell the kids that the huge scars from my portocafs were from a bike accident. I didn't want to be different. I wanted to be normal.
I hid my secret from most people, only letting a select few inside. I thought it was the biggest secret in the world. I didn't want kids to think I was damaged goods. It was the first time I got an understanding of trust, I trusted the people I told not to judge me and not to tell others.
When I turned 18, doctors stopped forcing me to come in for treatment. We still have the last print out from my last visit hanging on our fridge at home. As some time passed, I began to almost forgive myself about having the disease. I have opened up, letting more people in without fear of judgment.
I used to think that cancer was just something to be ashamed about. Now I get it, I understand all the time and resources spent on me both my doctors and by my family. I know how much of a burden I was, whether my family wants to admit it or not.
It's why I put so much pressure on myself to succeed in life. I realize that I was given a second chance, and I have to earn that. I have been on borrowed time for years, and I need to make the most of it.
This isn't the best way I could phrase this entire post. It's the first time I opened up about it in my entire life. I just felt more encouraged after I saw Andy do the same. I am not trying to gain sympathy or hijack Andy's thread, I just was telling my story.
I had leukemia when I was two years old. The doctors didn't know why I developed the disease as no one in my family had contracted the disease before. Although leukemia is more common in children, the diagnoses was unexpected.
I don't remember being told I had the disease. My earliest memories are of me being probed by doctors and being in a hospital bed. I didn't get it.
Without any knowledge of how a kid is suppose to live, I thought this was normal, something all children endured.
As I moved along in my three year treatment, I began to realize that I was different. I began to resent myself. I wondered why I was bald as a four year old, why I couldn't ever be around other kids, and why I was always attached to some type of machine.
My dad took it the hardest, when he found out I was 70% likely to die. My mother sat by me the whole time. She did more for me in those three years than most mothers do in a lifetime. My gratitude is not something I can articulate just yet.
I was recently told that I was part of a group that would receive a particular treatment. On the day of the scheduled treatment, my regular doctor called and advised my family against letting me take it. My parents decided to hold out and wait. Each of the kids that took the treatment in that group died. It still shakes me up to think about.
After being pumped with numerous drugs, I finally was recovered. My hair started to grow back and I regained strength. It wasn't until years later where doctors cleared me as 100%.
The next few years were the hardest. Although I was better, I was still being tested for progress. At this point, I was almost embarrassed of my bad luck. I told kids that I got to skip school for fun when in reality, I was getting ultrasounds and needles jammed into my back for marrow. Whenever I would have to take my shirt off, I would tell the kids that the huge scars from my portocafs were from a bike accident. I didn't want to be different. I wanted to be normal.
I hid my secret from most people, only letting a select few inside. I thought it was the biggest secret in the world. I didn't want kids to think I was damaged goods. It was the first time I got an understanding of trust, I trusted the people I told not to judge me and not to tell others.
When I turned 18, doctors stopped forcing me to come in for treatment. We still have the last print out from my last visit hanging on our fridge at home. As some time passed, I began to almost forgive myself about having the disease. I have opened up, letting more people in without fear of judgment.
I used to think that cancer was just something to be ashamed about. Now I get it, I understand all the time and resources spent on me both my doctors and by my family. I know how much of a burden I was, whether my family wants to admit it or not.
It's why I put so much pressure on myself to succeed in life. I realize that I was given a second chance, and I have to earn that. I have been on borrowed time for years, and I need to make the most of it.
This isn't the best way I could phrase this entire post. It's the first time I opened up about it in my entire life. I just felt more encouraged after I saw Andy do the same. I am not trying to gain sympathy or hijack Andy's thread, I just was telling my story.
