Heidi

30 Apr Heidi

Running track, training for and running a 5k, going to basketball practices and camps, biking 22 miles for fun-none of these seem like something someone with cancer would do. I found out the hard way that just because you are capable of doing a lot doesn’t mean you’re not seriously sick. I did all of the above while there was cancer forming all over my chest, specifically around my heart, in and on my lungs, but I just didn’t know it until about three months later. In April, I noticed a small bump forming at the base of my neck. Eventually, in June, I was having pain in my shoulder and decided to get it checked out. We figured it was probably just a cyst or something that would be a quick fix.

I went to the doctor two days in a row and they ran tests. I remember walking back from the CT and seeing my mom crying in the waiting room, she said that she was just scared of all the tests. That’s when I became scared that it was something serious. Fortunately, my cousin is a doctor at the hospital and was able to keep and oversee every one of my tests. The next thing I knew I was being rushed to the hospital by my cousin, the doctor. She told me and my mom that the tests showed a large, cancerous tumor growing around the top of my heart that could stop its oxygen supply, which would have been fatal. We got to the hospital and more tests were run. My dad came and we started talking to doctors and getting answers to some of our many questions. We told all the doctors about what I’ve been all going through the summer and they were all impressed that I was capable of doing so much, even though I had cancer, which usually causes energy and weight loss.

The next day I didn’t have tests, so they gave us passes to go to the zoo. We just had a good time. Throughout the day, I kept receiving texts from too many people to even count. I felt extremely loved by everyone and that helped me a lot. I knew I was lucky to be from such a great community. At that point, doctors believed it was at least stage three Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Luckily with lymphoma, stages are measured by how many tumors, and stage four isn’t a death sentence. The next day I had a PET scan, which gave me my final diagnosis, stage four Hodgkin’s lymphoma. This meant four or more tumors, (I had seven all around my chest) and it would take six to eight months to treat with chemo, and if that didn’t get it all, I would receive radiation. I got discharged from the hospital and got to go home for two weeks before I would come back to start treatment.

I spent the next two weeks with my friends and family enjoying doing a lot of stuff I knew I wouldn’t be able to do soon. I had to remain cautious because I didn’t have a strong immune system, but that didn’t stop me from doing things I love like swimming and shopping. I received many gifts and cards and the feeling of being loved continued. All the gifts and stuff didn’t stop me from wondering, “Why me? What did I do to deserve this?” I held tight to the answer: God has a plan for me, I just have to follow it and everything will be alright.

Two weeks later, on the Fourth of July, I was sent back to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital and got my PICC line, a line going from my arm straight to my heart, put in. Then I settled in my room to get my chemo. For some reason, I was thinking chemo wouldn’t affect me. I should have learned, by that point, that I’m not as bulletproof as I’d thought. I felt terrible after chemo, but I still wanted to take a shower. After about 2 minutes in the shower, my legs gave out, my stomach hurt, and I went to the ground. Luckily, the bathroom was small enough that once I started puking it was in the toilet. It took being naked and puking on a hospital bathroom floor to realize how bad my situation actually was. It took me probably a half hour to get up and get dressed, and as soon as I got back to my bed, I was asleep. I didn’t even watch the fireworks that were going off outside.

The next day I was released and got to go home. The routine for my chemo was every other Thursday for six months. Each time I would barely be able to leave the couch after, I barely ate anything. My family had to push me to eat because they had to prevent me from becoming malnourished. I would only drink flavored seltzer water because regular water would taste thick and gross, like I was swallowing mud for a few days after each treatment. I would miss school every other Thursday and Friday and be able to go to church almost every Sunday and make it back to school by Monday.

I eventually got into a normal routine. Every morning, one of my family members would flush my PICC line with saline and another would do it in the evening. I kept up on my medications and worked to keep up with my school work despite being absent 20% of the time. One thing that wasn’t routine was chemo, almost every treatment we were trying to find anything new that would help. I puked during every treatment and they knocked me out with Benadryl before leaving so I could sleep on the way home. After a few treatments, I began to anticipate the sickness that was coming before receiving anything for the day. Every treatment was different; sometimes it was the medication, or the nausea, or how long it would take for me to be able to leave the couch. But no matter what, I would always get sick.

After some time, I started to get shots of steroids to help get my immune system up. My mom had to learn how to give me the shots, something she hated doing. The shots caused my bone marrow to become extremely active causing intense pain in my hips for days. The only painkiller I was allowed to take was oxycontin, but I refused it. The pain was excruciating, sometimes just standing would make me want to cry. One time after getting the shots, I tried to run with my teammates during practice, but I had to stop after about three steps. I had to stop and just stand and watch.

Not being able to participate in sports was probably one of the worst parts for me, I hated sitting on the side, worse than being bald. I watched as my teammates became better players, and as my body became less and less conditioned. I couldn’t do anything that would require raising whatever arm my PICC line was in at the time. I also couldn’t do anything with contact to other people, so the only thing I could really do was just shoot at the side baskets. By the end of treatment, I had started losing feeling in my feet and fingertips causing me to struggle to catch the ball and run. I could only run for about a minute until I was completely out of breath and wheezing for air. My body had become so weak that multiple times I was running and I’d just fall, I didn’t trip or lose my balance, my legs just stopped working. But I always got up and kept working hard on the sport I love.

On December 5, 2019, I went in for my final chemo treatment and removal of my PICC line. That would be the last of chemo and if there was any cancer left, radiation would be used to remove it. I went back two weeks later for a scan. On that day, December 19, 2019—my mom and dad by my side, I was officially declared cancer-free. It was amazing to know I was finally cancer-free, but I knew my battle wasn’t over yet. I had lost almost thirty pounds throughout my journey despite trying to maintain my weight. I went from being very in-shape to being barely able to run for a minute. I went from being fast to being lapped by everyone else despite my best efforts. But I knew not to complain, I was lucky to have had a curable cancer and still be able to live a pretty “normal” life while going through treatment.

I’ve been cancer-free for over three months now. I’ve started gaining weight and getting my energy back, but I’m not close to being to where I was pre-diagnosis. I still have numbness in my feet causing me to fall often just by tripping over my own feet. I’m working to become the athlete I once was, but I have learned that remission doesn’t happen overnight and is gonna take a lot longer than I’d like. I remain hopeful that I will come back stronger than ever.

– Heidi