This was the summer in which a boy becomes closer to a man; a time when girls become of interest and butterflies seem to constantly flurry about the stomach. Sixth grade summer, the first year of middle school had passed us by. The days were getting longer and the nights hotter.
As a boy at ripe age of 12 years old; girls and anything with an engine excited me. Finding out I couldn't acquire either I settle on my bike. Living in small town of just a few hundred people, the bike bared total freedom to roam on my own. You had the park, the gas station, and then my older brother's friend's kingdom. I like to think of it as a kingdom; with a go-kart track, zip-line, and a tree-house it was every boys dream.
The go-karts did it for me. I could spend several hours perfecting my lap times. Whether I was by myself or racing one on one versus another. There were this mishaps though, a few rollovers and a broken off wheel. So when a small jump gave me a back ache, it made me give them up. The back ache seemed to stay with me a few days. It seemed that some over the counter medicine and preoccupying my time with other activities diminished the injury.
The following week my family and I went on one of our yearly vacations to Chicago. Maybe is was the long car ride or sleeping on the couch that week. The aches came back, always peaking at night, when I wasn't occupying my time. My mother guaranteed me we would see the doctor upon arrival back home. Other then the nightly pains, my life was unaffected. As soon as we got back, off to the doctor we went. Blood tests were ran and X-rays were done. Diagnosis was either the common flu or perhaps mono.. Because mono shows up irregular in blood test this became the main diagnose.
As any kid at that age, the local summer program was a must. Even though I didn't feel the best, I had to be involved. So off to survival camp. From walking the nature trails at a near lake to bicycling around town. My appetite had started to slow at this point and my mom took notice of the half eaten lunch box. At the the end of the program we were allowed to camp out for two full days. This first day was complete torture. I remember specifically as everyone else was swimming in the lake I was vomiting in the porto-pottie. One of the chaperon took notice, although I think he thought I was having the opposite stomach issue. He made a phone call to my mother for the "alright" to take some stomach medication. Once again this seemed to help considerably. I played amongst the other for the rest of the trip.
I arrived home the following day and felt is though I lost all energy, which would seem like the mono. I was trying to put away the tent, when I felt a shortness of breath and started seeing black spots. My mother and her sixth sense knew something was wrong. She called me inside and told me to lay down on the couch in our basement. In which it seemed I remained there for quite some time. I went to visit the doctor within the following days, but received the same answers as stated previously. So back to laying on the couch. It seemed as though I was drenched in constant shower of sweat and vomiting was an hourly labor. So once again we went to the doctor, at this visit we set up a date for the following Monday to run more tests. So I had to battle through the weekend.
Friday my pain was becoming fairly unbearable, but I got through it. The next night we went to our capital city for mass. I remember kneeling the first few times, but before offering I could not take it any more. I couldn't kneel, I couldn't even sit in the pew. My mother and I went out to the van and waited for the others. Thankfully I could recline the seat and relax a little. After church, we had to make our mandatory stop Wal-mart. I waited in the car. I started getting these electric like pulses in my back and going down my legs. By the time everyone came out, I felt as though I was being electrocuted. I have a high, scratch that, very high tolerance of pain. And this was making me scream. I told my mother I had to go to the hospital now.
The decision was made that we would got to our local emergency room, but this was an hour away. And what an hour it was. My parents decided to call our health hot line. We were going through the questions she asked.
"Are you vomiting"
"yes"
"Do you have diarrhea"
"no"
"Do you have pain in your testicles"
"maybe a little"
"WHAT?"
So my mom asked me why I hadn't told her. I was 12 I didn't how I was suppose to feel down there during all this pre
I made it through that night and the next. We showed up Monday morning looking for answers. My mother made it clear that if we didn't find anything here today than we were going to the university hospital. The doctor was on the same page. X-rays, more blood work, and physicals were all performed. To no surprise nothing was found. So on to KU Med.
I barely remember the ride up there. I leaned the seat back, and tried to keep my body from fighting the pain. I awoke as we arrived at the hospital. I went in for a general physical. I then was admitted and underwent a night of testing, X-rays, MRI's, CT scans, the works. Finally arriving back at my room , in which both my mother and I were to stay, I lied awake pondering the possibilities of the culprit. Mono, a broken bone I had no clue about, or some kind of rare foreign disease, unfortunately it was none of these.
The following day three doctors walked, two that I had never seen before. One of the doctors previously worked at our hospital. They sat us both down and just laid it out, it's Cancer. Leukemia to be exact. My mom busted out in tears. I reassuringly told her it would be alright. I was told I had no clue what this meant. I mean I was 12, I knew no one directly who had any kind of cancer. I was supposed to be worried about girls and what sports I could play the next year, not this.
I remember calling my dad and telling him I'm not sure what I have but it has to be pretty bad because mom was crying. So we began telling everyone and I got many visitors those first couple days. But I wasn't able to recieve Chemo because they couldn't determine whether my leukemia was Burkitt's or acute lymphoma. It would be a week until I could get my first dose. At this point the cancer was ahead and I was feeling it.
For some reason it is impossible to sleep in a hospital. Considering this was a university hospital, I would have residents coming in before the sun comes up. Blood was taken even before that. My vitals were to be taken every couple hours and a nurse would make her rounds every hour. And above else was the level of pain I was in. It was just unimaginable. The morphine would help, but usually it only helped for and hour or two and then I would have to wait another two to get another dose. I just wanted some peace and quiet, to rest and try and eat something. Nothing would ever stay down.
This went on for the rest of the week. I had many surgeries in that week. Spinal taps, bone marrow, and installing a Hickman line. The spinal tap and bone marrow showed that 66 percent of my cells were cancer cells. Two thirds of my less than 100 pound body was full of cancer. It's funny how cavalier that seemed at the time, but looking back now I was in for a long battle.
