Meghan recently had a school assignment to write an autobiographical paper. I was excited when she told me that she had chosen to write about her cancer journey. It hasn't been something that we as parents have pushed or suggested but I have thought for awhile that it would be good for her to think through and process the experience now being (mostly) on the other side of it. (Of course I was also just very curious to read her own account of it and discover how she remembered it/viewed it.) On one hand I have been very grateful that she seems to have quite easily put the experience behind her; she has been very much "full-steam-ahead-and-don't-look-back." But as a parent you also always wonder if she is "dealing" with everything and processing it all in a healthy way. Michael was quick to remind me that it was Meghan's assignment and her choice how she wanted to write about it or how deeply she wanted to delve into it. (Read: Mom - don't get too involved, don't try to influence the direction of her paper, remember she is only 12 and it's a school assignment which usually means her focus will be to hurry up and finish the assignment - in other words, don't expect a deep, thorough, soul-searching, brilliant paper!) So... I helped her with a timeline of events and let her pick and choose the parts she wanted to write about and how she wanted to write about them. And I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed reading what she chose to say. I set aside the fact that it was missing a lot of details that maybe she would have thought of if she had spent more time on it and set aside my own feelings on what things were important. (Then again, a whole book probably could be written had she the time!) I think she did a great job overall and I loved seeing her sense of humor come through as well.
With her permission, I am sharing it here and also with her permission I am putting out the opportunity for you to ask Meghan any questions you may have - silly, serious, and anything in-between. You can leave a comment here with your question(s) or email me. I will not be including names when I post the questions and Meghan's answers (I won't probably share names with Meghan either, just the questions - I am hoping that this helps you all truly feel free to ask anything you want.) I will be collecting your questions for the next week or two and then will compile a post with all your questions and Meghan's answers.
Now, for the essay...
Step by Step through Osteosarcoma
By Meghan Haan
I was sitting in the waiting room at Metro Health Cascade and heard one of the nurses call my name, “Meghan Haan.” This was an appointment I had been asking to go to because my arm was very sore. It wasn't like “ow-I-have-a-bruise-sore” it was more like a searing pain that came and went. It was maybe three to four weeks after the girl's basketball season at school ended and so we thought that it was probably sports related. You know, like a sprained muscle or something. Well, it wasn't going away so my mom and dad decided to take me to see our family doctor and just make sure that it wasn't anything serious like a fracture or something that should be treated right away. After they called my name they did everything that they would normally do when you go in for a regular check-up. After that they took me into a room and told me that the doctor would come in a minute and to wait patiently. After a little while Dr. Kern came in and she said just to be safe she would like to take an x-ray. After the x-ray she pulled my mom out of the room and told her something that I couldn't hear and came back in a few minutes. They told me there was something called a mass growing on my bone and it was probably nothing to worry about, but that we would have to do some more tests to find out why it was there.
Dr. Kern scheduled a MRI and CAT scan for later in the week and that was that. When it came time to go to the MRI and CAT scan Lauren, my older sister, bought some Hannah Montana episodes and let me borrow her iPod for the trip to Metro Hospital. She had to work so she couldn't come with my mom, dad, and me, but my Aunt Karey, who works out there, came and waited with us. We sat for a little while and then a nurse called us back. The nurse brought me to a bathroom and told me to use the bathroom before they got me settled in for the hour scans. After I came out of the bathroom I saw mom, dad, Aunt Karey and the nurse all standing outside of a really big metal door and above it had a sign that told others to be careful when entering the room. Now, through this whole time I admit that I was really scared, and when I saw this door and the sign I lost self control. I started bawling. I really didn't want to go into the room and then when the nurse opened the door there was a skinny, enclosed machine in the middle of the room, the only open part of it was where you got in and out! I was afraid that I might not fit - no, I was hoping that I wouldn't fit so that I could leave.
My mom talked them into letting her stay in the room with me for the scan and after much comforting and re-assurance I walked into the room and the cycle started over again after I saw a needle. At the time I had no recollection of ever getting poked and I didn't want to. They finally got me to let them poke me and I hated it. It felt like a bee sting but much harder because it pierces your skin and goes under as well. After the hour in the MRI machine the nurse took me into a different room that was a little smaller but had yet another automatic crying machine in it. They had to poke me again and this time the CAT scan was really short but you get a weird feeling like you’re peeing in your pants and you have no control over it. You also get extremely hot and it starts in your toes and goes up and out your head. After that trying morning we went home and we were told to pick up the results in a couple days. Well, my mom went to do that when we were with her after school. She was in there for a long time and I was thinking there was just some paperwork or a long line, but then she came out looking very disheveled and anxious. I asked her what was wrong but she said nothing. I knew her better than that, Pastor Dale had said your family knows you better than you know yourself and this much I knew was true. So throughout the rest of the day I kept watching her and she certainly didn't act like she had been before she went in the office.
Two days later my mom and dad sent Rileigh(my younger sister) and Aidan(my younger brother) to sleep at my Grandma's and Grandpa's house and then they took me out to eat for dinner. The next morning, before yet another appointment with another doctor, they sat down with me and told me something that would change my life forever. The test results showed that I had a cancerous tumor on my right humerus and that I was going to go see a doctor that was to assign me a new doctor and surgeon that would take care of the cancer. All of the sudden I burst out crying and my mind was racing alongside my heart. Is this why they took me out to dinner and had Rileigh and Aidan spend the night and Grandma's and Grandpa's house? What kind of cancer is it? How did it get there? And most importantly, will it go away? These were just a few of the questions that were swarming around in my head. My dad was holding my hand and my mom was cradling me in her arms but I barely noticed. Everything within my body, except my tears, had shut down at the sound of the word “cancer.” My mom and dad prayed with me and we left for the appointment.
Things started moving very quickly. The next week we drove to Beaumont Hospital near Detroit to meet with my surgeon. The following day we were scheduled to go and meet my new oncologist, Dr. Mitchell and talk about treatment and what that would mean for me. When we got there one of the nurses took us into a room and told us that Dr. Mitchell would be here in a minute. After Dr. Mitchell was in the room and introduced herself she explained a lot about cancer and how it is treated. She started talking about two different objects called a port and a broviac. She explained that while getting a medicine called chemotherapy I would be getting poked a lot and that to make it less painful and more convenient for me and the nurse that would check me in, they would give me the choice of either one of them and insert it before my first chemotherapy round. She also explained to me and my parents that with a port I could swim after 24 hours of being un-poked and that it would be under my skin, but with a broviac a tube sticks out of my skin, I can't swim ever while it is in and my mom or dad would have to flush the tube and change the wrapping around it twice a day. So after little thought I chose the port.
The day after the appointment with Dr. Mitchell we went back to Beaumont for the biopsy surgery on my tumor so that they could determine what kind of cancer it was so that they would know how to treat it. The biopsy was really terrible. I was scared to death and then the nurse who was putting the IV in my arm kept poking me and couldn't get it so I was crying like crazy and I kept thinking what if something like this but worse happened in the surgery? They wouldn't let my mom or dad come with me past a certain point so the surgeon was trying to comfort me but it wasn't working. When we got into the surgical room they wanted me to breathe through this mask and I did. It made me sleepy and it smelled like vanilla. Slowly I lost feeling in my arms and legs. My brain was slowly shutting down and the last thing I heard before going to sleep was one of the assistant surgeons say, “Do you think the IV nurse messed up?” and someone else answered, “Apparently!” We got the biopsy results that same day. It was confirmed that I had osteosarcoma, a type of bone cancer.
I had a short break from appointments over Christmas and then two days after Christmas I went in for surgery to have my port installed and do my very first chemotherapy round. While waiting for them to call my name for the port surgery, I thought of how glad I was to have my family right beside me the whole time and how grateful I was that they could still make me laugh, even with all the bad news. My dad and I would always joke around about how silly and repulsive the gowns that the hospital makes you wear were and how we should create a line of fashionable hospital gowns and make millions of dollars off of them. For the record, Beaumont Hospital was way worse than Spectrum in this area because they also had you wear these really ugly knee high socks with little sticky circles on the bottom so you wouldn't slip on the floor.
After the port surgery, while I was still asleep, they took me up to Seven South (the Helen DeVos Children’s Hospital Hematology/Oncology Unit) for my first round of chemotherapy. During my first chemotherapy round every time I woke up I'd check if I still had hair or if it was falling out. This was one of the things I dreaded most about the chemotherapy - it makes your hair fall out. Now you may think that it is silly for me - while there are so many other, worse things going on - to worry about hair. Well, you’re probably right. Now that I look back at it, I think I was being totally ridiculous. I mean, come on, I'm lying in a hospital bed with a life-threatening disease and all I could think about was my hair and what people would think when I lost it. Okay, back to my first chemotherapy round. With chemotherapy you always feel blah, but since it was my first time getting it, I felt blah X 100. So it was more like blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. So in-between sleeping, puking and peeing (the three basics of chemotherapy), I watched cable T.V. (which is a really big deal since we don't have it at home), drew pictures, and wrote an acrostic poem that went like this:
Can make it through the battle
A n excellent witness to others
Never a burden to carry if it pleases God
Cancer's scary but we'll take it one step at a time
Entirely tiring
Ready to smile!
About 14 days after my first chemotherapy round I started losing my hair. My mom and I together decided that it would be easier just to shave it off. My mom also shaved her hair off too. We had a lady from our church who does hair for a living come and do it because I didn't want to go out in public and have it done. With each shave she did on my head it was a shave off the top of my heart. After she was done I thought about not looking in the mirror, but I did anyway. I felt so stupid and wished I had a hat to cover my head. Thankfully while we were down in Royal Oak to see my surgeon the first time we went to an outlet mall and bought a few hats. Whenever I looked in the mirror I felt like a boy. My mom and dad said I still looked beautiful, but that’s kind of hard to believe if you were standing where I was.
About two weeks later I had my second chemotherapy round. I really didn't want to go in for it but my doctor had said this one would be easier to take than the first so, reluctantly, I went back to the hospital. When we got there the nurse assigned to me that round got me settled in and attached the bag of chemotherapy up to my port. Well about half way through the night I went to go to the bathroom and then came out, collapsed to the floor and started throwing up. After this my memory goes blank. When I woke up I was in the ICU and hooked up to these big machines that were taking my blood out of my body, cleaning it, and then putting it back in. I remember very little from the beginning of this round because it turned out that I was allergic to the type of chemotherapy they gave me(called Methotrexate). My kidneys and liver shut down so the Methotrexate wasn't getting out of my body. It was just sitting there, in my body. What I do remember of this round was that they had me on emergency hemo-dialysis and then continual regular dialysis and I couldn’t get up out of the bed because of everything that was hooked up to me. My doctors had not seen this type of reaction before so they had to talk to other doctors from all over the country to find out what to do. I also received an experimental enzyme that was transported from Chicago by ambulance and that, for three vials which equals one dose, cost $90,000! I also remember that my aunt from California came and visited me within the 14 days in which I was stuck in the ICU.
My chemotherapy rounds were usually scheduled for every three weeks and took place inpatient for 5 days at the hospital. My mom or dad always came and stayed with me at the hospital and many friends and family members visited me as well. When I was feeling up to it, Rileigh and Aidan would come up and hang out with me in my room. Aidan really liked to play with the controls on my bed and eat the snacks that the nurses brought him. My least favorite thing about the hospital was the way it smelled and especially the stuff that they called food. After my first round, I just started asking them not to bring the food trays in my room because they made me feel like puking.
After my fifth chemotherapy round, on April 2nd, I went to Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak (near Detroit) and had the surgery that saved my life. They took out my right humerus between my elbow and shoulder and replaced it with an allograft(cadaver bone with a titanium rod thru the center). I spent seven long days in the hospital there. While I was in the hospital there I also had some other issues. First of all, all the nurses there had no idea of what they were supposed to be doing and my surgeon, whom I loved, had a terrible student doctor. The student doctor was rather in-experienced and you could tell this by the way he came in to see me the morning after my surgery. He opened the door at 6:00 am in the morning when my mom and I were still sleeping and turned on the bright lights. He walked over to me and said, “Hey Meghan how are you doing?” Then he proceeded to ask me other questions about how I was feeling. Then the worst part was he took his pen and started poking my arm through the bandages and asking, “does this hurt?” every time he poked it which was about 30 times! Now my dad says to be gracious and understanding because he was only starting and was just learning how to be a doctor but, I'm sorry, he was just horrendous!
Soon after we returned from my surgery, I started chemotherapy rounds again. It was hard because the chemotherapy slows down the healing process and my arm took a very long time to heal. A couple months after the surgery I also started physical therapy to rehabilitate my arm. I really liked my physical therapist, but it was hard and frustrating because I couldn’t do a lot of the things that I had been able to do before. I was really happy when I finally got to the point of discontinuing my pain medication for my arm, but it still gets sore sometimes when I use it a lot.
On the 28th of August I went in for my 12th and final round of chemotherapy! My parents and I decided that it would be a good idea to invite anybody who wanted to come visit to have cake and coffee. So on my final dose of chemotherapy most of my family, friends and church congregation came up to see me and have a slice of cake. During this round I was still recovering from other previous rounds and wasn't feeling the best so I ended up going to sleep before the party was over. On the very last part of the dose we all (even the nurses!) counted down the seconds until it was over and then we hugged and cried and sang the doxology together.
Throughout my whole treatment I had to go to a lot of appointments and do certain things. I also had to take a lot of different medicines every day. At one point I was taking about 30 pills a day plus having 3 different injections that my mom learned to give me at home. I also had to go to the hospital clinic for check-ups once or twice a week so they could monitor my blood counts and make sure the chemotherapy was getting out of my blood system. I also had MRI's, Bone scans, and PET-CT scans throughout the whole period so they could keep an eye on the tumor and make sure the cancer didn’t spread anywhere else in my body. When we went up to clinic sometimes they would need to do some blood transfusions of either red blood cells or platelets. Also, if my white blood cell count was low I would need to do Neupogen injections every night at home. After each chemotherapy round they would send me home on IV fluids for a few days. We had to learn how to hook up the home IV pump and flush and de-access my port. There was also this other thing called pentamidine treatments that were just awful! You would go in and there would be a mask that you put over your face to breathe medicine into your lungs that tasted really bad!
Eight days after my last chemotherapy round I started running a fever. Now this is pretty typical for patients after a chemotherapy round because your blood counts drop really low and your immune system is shot, but I luckily had never had it before. One of the rules that the children's hospital has is that if you have a fever of 101.5 degrees or higher, you have to get admitted right away through the Emergency Room (this is referred to as a F & N Admit - Fever & Neutropenia). During the night my fever got that high so we drove over to the ER and were admitted. While I was down in the ER they started a high dose antibiotic through my port. This medicine made me really itchy. The whole time I was there I was really out of it but I do remember very well that they told me I was having an allergic reaction and I started freaking out because the Methotrexate reaction was very serious and if they hadn't put me on dialysis right away I could have died. Then they explained this was just a minor reaction (not like the Methotrexate reaction) and that it was nothing to worry about.
While I was in the hospital for a few days because of the fever, Ethan McGraw, another boy from our school that had a type of brain cancer called Medulloblastoma was having a celebration of life party that I couldn't go to because I was in the hospital. Ethan was a really good friend because he knew how it felt to have cancer and he was the one that really knew how to support me through it. Ethan was having this celebration of life party because his brain tumor had come back for the 5th time and they couldn't cure it, so he was going to die. They decided to just stop treatment because they would rather have him at home before it happened than proceed with treatment that wouldn't cure it. I was very upset that I couldn't go to the party but he ended up being admitted two doors down from me the next day. After the first night he stopped responding to anyone and couldn't move or talk. My mom went to his room a few times and then to go say good bye to him when they realized that he didn’t have much longer to live. She asked me if I wanted to go say good bye but I said no. You may think that it was mean not to say goodbye, but to see Ethan, my wild, upbeat friend, lying in a hospital bed motionless would be one of the hardest things to do. I wanted to remember him as I knew him - ready to kick cancer’s butt with a smile.
When my mom came back in the room and told me that Ethan had finally gone to heaven, I cried the rest of the day without stopping. Knowing that I had lost not just a friend but a person who, more than I, knew what it meant to have cancer, was very hard. When I got out of the hospital we went to his funeral. At school they handed out ribbons to wear to the funeral and anybody who wanted to could leave school early to go. A lot of my friends went and looked up in the casket but I decided not to because like I said, I wanted to remember him full of life and smiling. I cried through the whole service and when they took his body out of the sanctuary my family and I left.
There were a lot of terrible things throughout this whole past year but there were also some fun things that we got to do that helped me remember that all the yucky stuff would go away soon. Now don't get me wrong, I wouldn't do all of this cancer stuff again just to do some fun things, but the fun things were really nice to have while going through treatment. Some things that my family and I got to do were Gilda's Club (a place with lots of activities and groups that was built for families that are living with cancer), Whitecaps games, American Cancer Society Relay for Life, yaht outing, We Do Care (an organization that gives gifts to children with cancer - they gave our family a Wii), Gilda's golf outing dinner, Wood TV 8 interview, Stand Up To Cancer, and our Make-a- Wish trip to Disney World!
October 2nd, the day after my 12th birthday, they declared me to be in remission! Remission means that there is no more cancer in my body and that it is okay to go back to the way things were before as much as possible. I got to try out for Volleyball at school and made the B team and my hair started growing back! This past year was really hard for me and all the people who love me but God has been so gracious and merciful to me and my family. He saved my life, gave me a wonderful example which was Ethan, and He gave me deeper faith. He showed me that He can do anything and that I need to trust in Him. There were times throughout this trial that I thought I wasn't going to make it or wanted to give up and quit but God showed me that He will carry me through it and I'll come out when and where I am supposed to. This whole experience has brought me deeper into my faith and humbled me so much, and though I wish God had chosen another way to do it, I am eternally grateful for His love and mercy.
Dr. Kern scheduled a MRI and CAT scan for later in the week and that was that. When it came time to go to the MRI and CAT scan Lauren, my older sister, bought some Hannah Montana episodes and let me borrow her iPod for the trip to Metro Hospital. She had to work so she couldn't come with my mom, dad, and me, but my Aunt Karey, who works out there, came and waited with us. We sat for a little while and then a nurse called us back. The nurse brought me to a bathroom and told me to use the bathroom before they got me settled in for the hour scans. After I came out of the bathroom I saw mom, dad, Aunt Karey and the nurse all standing outside of a really big metal door and above it had a sign that told others to be careful when entering the room. Now, through this whole time I admit that I was really scared, and when I saw this door and the sign I lost self control. I started bawling. I really didn't want to go into the room and then when the nurse opened the door there was a skinny, enclosed machine in the middle of the room, the only open part of it was where you got in and out! I was afraid that I might not fit - no, I was hoping that I wouldn't fit so that I could leave.
My mom talked them into letting her stay in the room with me for the scan and after much comforting and re-assurance I walked into the room and the cycle started over again after I saw a needle. At the time I had no recollection of ever getting poked and I didn't want to. They finally got me to let them poke me and I hated it. It felt like a bee sting but much harder because it pierces your skin and goes under as well. After the hour in the MRI machine the nurse took me into a different room that was a little smaller but had yet another automatic crying machine in it. They had to poke me again and this time the CAT scan was really short but you get a weird feeling like you’re peeing in your pants and you have no control over it. You also get extremely hot and it starts in your toes and goes up and out your head. After that trying morning we went home and we were told to pick up the results in a couple days. Well, my mom went to do that when we were with her after school. She was in there for a long time and I was thinking there was just some paperwork or a long line, but then she came out looking very disheveled and anxious. I asked her what was wrong but she said nothing. I knew her better than that, Pastor Dale had said your family knows you better than you know yourself and this much I knew was true. So throughout the rest of the day I kept watching her and she certainly didn't act like she had been before she went in the office.
Two days later my mom and dad sent Rileigh(my younger sister) and Aidan(my younger brother) to sleep at my Grandma's and Grandpa's house and then they took me out to eat for dinner. The next morning, before yet another appointment with another doctor, they sat down with me and told me something that would change my life forever. The test results showed that I had a cancerous tumor on my right humerus and that I was going to go see a doctor that was to assign me a new doctor and surgeon that would take care of the cancer. All of the sudden I burst out crying and my mind was racing alongside my heart. Is this why they took me out to dinner and had Rileigh and Aidan spend the night and Grandma's and Grandpa's house? What kind of cancer is it? How did it get there? And most importantly, will it go away? These were just a few of the questions that were swarming around in my head. My dad was holding my hand and my mom was cradling me in her arms but I barely noticed. Everything within my body, except my tears, had shut down at the sound of the word “cancer.” My mom and dad prayed with me and we left for the appointment.
Things started moving very quickly. The next week we drove to Beaumont Hospital near Detroit to meet with my surgeon. The following day we were scheduled to go and meet my new oncologist, Dr. Mitchell and talk about treatment and what that would mean for me. When we got there one of the nurses took us into a room and told us that Dr. Mitchell would be here in a minute. After Dr. Mitchell was in the room and introduced herself she explained a lot about cancer and how it is treated. She started talking about two different objects called a port and a broviac. She explained that while getting a medicine called chemotherapy I would be getting poked a lot and that to make it less painful and more convenient for me and the nurse that would check me in, they would give me the choice of either one of them and insert it before my first chemotherapy round. She also explained to me and my parents that with a port I could swim after 24 hours of being un-poked and that it would be under my skin, but with a broviac a tube sticks out of my skin, I can't swim ever while it is in and my mom or dad would have to flush the tube and change the wrapping around it twice a day. So after little thought I chose the port.
The day after the appointment with Dr. Mitchell we went back to Beaumont for the biopsy surgery on my tumor so that they could determine what kind of cancer it was so that they would know how to treat it. The biopsy was really terrible. I was scared to death and then the nurse who was putting the IV in my arm kept poking me and couldn't get it so I was crying like crazy and I kept thinking what if something like this but worse happened in the surgery? They wouldn't let my mom or dad come with me past a certain point so the surgeon was trying to comfort me but it wasn't working. When we got into the surgical room they wanted me to breathe through this mask and I did. It made me sleepy and it smelled like vanilla. Slowly I lost feeling in my arms and legs. My brain was slowly shutting down and the last thing I heard before going to sleep was one of the assistant surgeons say, “Do you think the IV nurse messed up?” and someone else answered, “Apparently!” We got the biopsy results that same day. It was confirmed that I had osteosarcoma, a type of bone cancer.
I had a short break from appointments over Christmas and then two days after Christmas I went in for surgery to have my port installed and do my very first chemotherapy round. While waiting for them to call my name for the port surgery, I thought of how glad I was to have my family right beside me the whole time and how grateful I was that they could still make me laugh, even with all the bad news. My dad and I would always joke around about how silly and repulsive the gowns that the hospital makes you wear were and how we should create a line of fashionable hospital gowns and make millions of dollars off of them. For the record, Beaumont Hospital was way worse than Spectrum in this area because they also had you wear these really ugly knee high socks with little sticky circles on the bottom so you wouldn't slip on the floor.
After the port surgery, while I was still asleep, they took me up to Seven South (the Helen DeVos Children’s Hospital Hematology/Oncology Unit) for my first round of chemotherapy. During my first chemotherapy round every time I woke up I'd check if I still had hair or if it was falling out. This was one of the things I dreaded most about the chemotherapy - it makes your hair fall out. Now you may think that it is silly for me - while there are so many other, worse things going on - to worry about hair. Well, you’re probably right. Now that I look back at it, I think I was being totally ridiculous. I mean, come on, I'm lying in a hospital bed with a life-threatening disease and all I could think about was my hair and what people would think when I lost it. Okay, back to my first chemotherapy round. With chemotherapy you always feel blah, but since it was my first time getting it, I felt blah X 100. So it was more like blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. So in-between sleeping, puking and peeing (the three basics of chemotherapy), I watched cable T.V. (which is a really big deal since we don't have it at home), drew pictures, and wrote an acrostic poem that went like this:
Can make it through the battle
A n excellent witness to others
Never a burden to carry if it pleases God
Cancer's scary but we'll take it one step at a time
Entirely tiring
Ready to smile!
About 14 days after my first chemotherapy round I started losing my hair. My mom and I together decided that it would be easier just to shave it off. My mom also shaved her hair off too. We had a lady from our church who does hair for a living come and do it because I didn't want to go out in public and have it done. With each shave she did on my head it was a shave off the top of my heart. After she was done I thought about not looking in the mirror, but I did anyway. I felt so stupid and wished I had a hat to cover my head. Thankfully while we were down in Royal Oak to see my surgeon the first time we went to an outlet mall and bought a few hats. Whenever I looked in the mirror I felt like a boy. My mom and dad said I still looked beautiful, but that’s kind of hard to believe if you were standing where I was.
About two weeks later I had my second chemotherapy round. I really didn't want to go in for it but my doctor had said this one would be easier to take than the first so, reluctantly, I went back to the hospital. When we got there the nurse assigned to me that round got me settled in and attached the bag of chemotherapy up to my port. Well about half way through the night I went to go to the bathroom and then came out, collapsed to the floor and started throwing up. After this my memory goes blank. When I woke up I was in the ICU and hooked up to these big machines that were taking my blood out of my body, cleaning it, and then putting it back in. I remember very little from the beginning of this round because it turned out that I was allergic to the type of chemotherapy they gave me(called Methotrexate). My kidneys and liver shut down so the Methotrexate wasn't getting out of my body. It was just sitting there, in my body. What I do remember of this round was that they had me on emergency hemo-dialysis and then continual regular dialysis and I couldn’t get up out of the bed because of everything that was hooked up to me. My doctors had not seen this type of reaction before so they had to talk to other doctors from all over the country to find out what to do. I also received an experimental enzyme that was transported from Chicago by ambulance and that, for three vials which equals one dose, cost $90,000! I also remember that my aunt from California came and visited me within the 14 days in which I was stuck in the ICU.
My chemotherapy rounds were usually scheduled for every three weeks and took place inpatient for 5 days at the hospital. My mom or dad always came and stayed with me at the hospital and many friends and family members visited me as well. When I was feeling up to it, Rileigh and Aidan would come up and hang out with me in my room. Aidan really liked to play with the controls on my bed and eat the snacks that the nurses brought him. My least favorite thing about the hospital was the way it smelled and especially the stuff that they called food. After my first round, I just started asking them not to bring the food trays in my room because they made me feel like puking.
After my fifth chemotherapy round, on April 2nd, I went to Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak (near Detroit) and had the surgery that saved my life. They took out my right humerus between my elbow and shoulder and replaced it with an allograft(cadaver bone with a titanium rod thru the center). I spent seven long days in the hospital there. While I was in the hospital there I also had some other issues. First of all, all the nurses there had no idea of what they were supposed to be doing and my surgeon, whom I loved, had a terrible student doctor. The student doctor was rather in-experienced and you could tell this by the way he came in to see me the morning after my surgery. He opened the door at 6:00 am in the morning when my mom and I were still sleeping and turned on the bright lights. He walked over to me and said, “Hey Meghan how are you doing?” Then he proceeded to ask me other questions about how I was feeling. Then the worst part was he took his pen and started poking my arm through the bandages and asking, “does this hurt?” every time he poked it which was about 30 times! Now my dad says to be gracious and understanding because he was only starting and was just learning how to be a doctor but, I'm sorry, he was just horrendous!
Soon after we returned from my surgery, I started chemotherapy rounds again. It was hard because the chemotherapy slows down the healing process and my arm took a very long time to heal. A couple months after the surgery I also started physical therapy to rehabilitate my arm. I really liked my physical therapist, but it was hard and frustrating because I couldn’t do a lot of the things that I had been able to do before. I was really happy when I finally got to the point of discontinuing my pain medication for my arm, but it still gets sore sometimes when I use it a lot.
On the 28th of August I went in for my 12th and final round of chemotherapy! My parents and I decided that it would be a good idea to invite anybody who wanted to come visit to have cake and coffee. So on my final dose of chemotherapy most of my family, friends and church congregation came up to see me and have a slice of cake. During this round I was still recovering from other previous rounds and wasn't feeling the best so I ended up going to sleep before the party was over. On the very last part of the dose we all (even the nurses!) counted down the seconds until it was over and then we hugged and cried and sang the doxology together.
Throughout my whole treatment I had to go to a lot of appointments and do certain things. I also had to take a lot of different medicines every day. At one point I was taking about 30 pills a day plus having 3 different injections that my mom learned to give me at home. I also had to go to the hospital clinic for check-ups once or twice a week so they could monitor my blood counts and make sure the chemotherapy was getting out of my blood system. I also had MRI's, Bone scans, and PET-CT scans throughout the whole period so they could keep an eye on the tumor and make sure the cancer didn’t spread anywhere else in my body. When we went up to clinic sometimes they would need to do some blood transfusions of either red blood cells or platelets. Also, if my white blood cell count was low I would need to do Neupogen injections every night at home. After each chemotherapy round they would send me home on IV fluids for a few days. We had to learn how to hook up the home IV pump and flush and de-access my port. There was also this other thing called pentamidine treatments that were just awful! You would go in and there would be a mask that you put over your face to breathe medicine into your lungs that tasted really bad!
Eight days after my last chemotherapy round I started running a fever. Now this is pretty typical for patients after a chemotherapy round because your blood counts drop really low and your immune system is shot, but I luckily had never had it before. One of the rules that the children's hospital has is that if you have a fever of 101.5 degrees or higher, you have to get admitted right away through the Emergency Room (this is referred to as a F & N Admit - Fever & Neutropenia). During the night my fever got that high so we drove over to the ER and were admitted. While I was down in the ER they started a high dose antibiotic through my port. This medicine made me really itchy. The whole time I was there I was really out of it but I do remember very well that they told me I was having an allergic reaction and I started freaking out because the Methotrexate reaction was very serious and if they hadn't put me on dialysis right away I could have died. Then they explained this was just a minor reaction (not like the Methotrexate reaction) and that it was nothing to worry about.
While I was in the hospital for a few days because of the fever, Ethan McGraw, another boy from our school that had a type of brain cancer called Medulloblastoma was having a celebration of life party that I couldn't go to because I was in the hospital. Ethan was a really good friend because he knew how it felt to have cancer and he was the one that really knew how to support me through it. Ethan was having this celebration of life party because his brain tumor had come back for the 5th time and they couldn't cure it, so he was going to die. They decided to just stop treatment because they would rather have him at home before it happened than proceed with treatment that wouldn't cure it. I was very upset that I couldn't go to the party but he ended up being admitted two doors down from me the next day. After the first night he stopped responding to anyone and couldn't move or talk. My mom went to his room a few times and then to go say good bye to him when they realized that he didn’t have much longer to live. She asked me if I wanted to go say good bye but I said no. You may think that it was mean not to say goodbye, but to see Ethan, my wild, upbeat friend, lying in a hospital bed motionless would be one of the hardest things to do. I wanted to remember him as I knew him - ready to kick cancer’s butt with a smile.
When my mom came back in the room and told me that Ethan had finally gone to heaven, I cried the rest of the day without stopping. Knowing that I had lost not just a friend but a person who, more than I, knew what it meant to have cancer, was very hard. When I got out of the hospital we went to his funeral. At school they handed out ribbons to wear to the funeral and anybody who wanted to could leave school early to go. A lot of my friends went and looked up in the casket but I decided not to because like I said, I wanted to remember him full of life and smiling. I cried through the whole service and when they took his body out of the sanctuary my family and I left.
There were a lot of terrible things throughout this whole past year but there were also some fun things that we got to do that helped me remember that all the yucky stuff would go away soon. Now don't get me wrong, I wouldn't do all of this cancer stuff again just to do some fun things, but the fun things were really nice to have while going through treatment. Some things that my family and I got to do were Gilda's Club (a place with lots of activities and groups that was built for families that are living with cancer), Whitecaps games, American Cancer Society Relay for Life, yaht outing, We Do Care (an organization that gives gifts to children with cancer - they gave our family a Wii), Gilda's golf outing dinner, Wood TV 8 interview, Stand Up To Cancer, and our Make-a- Wish trip to Disney World!
October 2nd, the day after my 12th birthday, they declared me to be in remission! Remission means that there is no more cancer in my body and that it is okay to go back to the way things were before as much as possible. I got to try out for Volleyball at school and made the B team and my hair started growing back! This past year was really hard for me and all the people who love me but God has been so gracious and merciful to me and my family. He saved my life, gave me a wonderful example which was Ethan, and He gave me deeper faith. He showed me that He can do anything and that I need to trust in Him. There were times throughout this trial that I thought I wasn't going to make it or wanted to give up and quit but God showed me that He will carry me through it and I'll come out when and where I am supposed to. This whole experience has brought me deeper into my faith and humbled me so much, and though I wish God had chosen another way to do it, I am eternally grateful for His love and mercy.
My only question for Meghan after reading such an amazing essay is,
"Do you realize how BLESSED we are to know you and have you in our lives?"
Thank you SO much for sharing this.
Love Always,
the Hunters
Posted by: Kristin Hunter | March 24, 2009 at 02:17 AM
P.S. Your essay gets an A++ from us! :)
Posted by: Kristin Hunter | March 24, 2009 at 02:18 AM
Meghan, the fact that I know and love you guys doesn't mean I am not also an English major, so I wouldn't say this if I didn't mean it: that was a very well-written essay, especially for a twelve-year-old. It was well-organized, thoughtful, detailed without being overly detailed, and I enjoyed the subtle humor ("another crying machine" jumped out at me as an especially creative and funny way to describe the next hospital machine). You have a gift for writing.
Like you said, this is something that has changed your life forever, and through God's grace it has changed yours and those of many others for the better. This is where Christians stand out most strangely from the rest of the world, I think--in the way we see great good in great trial, as you have.
I want to let you know, too, that I was able to use the example of your cancer in Sunday School last week to help explain sin. (Aidan is in my class, and so the first grade class knows more about cancer than most other first grade classes would.) We were talking about the man in John 5:1-14 who had been paralyzed for 38 years, and how Jesus told him to stop sinning so that nothing worse would happen to him. Then I reminded Aidan and the class that sometimes the things we can't see are worse than the things we can see--like how if your arm had been broken so badly you could see that it was broken without needing an X-ray, it would have been better than the cancer. We talked about how sin is like that, but even worse; that we can't see sin like we can see outside sickness, but that also God can cure it just as Jesus cured the man who was paralyzed. I think sin is a really hard concept to talk about with first graders sometimes, but your example gave them something they knew personally to relate to. I wanted to tell you that because it is yet another way your experience is proving spiritually helpful to other people.
Thank you for sharing!
Posted by: Suzanne | March 24, 2009 at 09:08 AM
There is absolutely no way any you are NOT going to Ace this assignment. Most 17 year olds could not write this excellent account of their own experience with cancer.
God has an amazing plan for you. I am sure glad we get to enjoy your childhood just a little longer before we know what awesome work he calls you to.
Posted by: Mary Van Der Aa | March 24, 2009 at 09:18 AM
Meghan - that was beautifully written! Thank you for sharing your story with all of us! God is so good!
Posted by: Wendy | March 24, 2009 at 09:31 AM
Wow. Deep sigh. Smile. You could not have done a better job writing this, Meghan. You hit the highs and the lows in a way that resonates with those of us that really can't understand, not having had a cancer experience ourselves. I especially appreciate that you had the courage to include your friend Ethan in the story. Thanks for sharing with us!
Posted by: Jennie Boone | March 24, 2009 at 11:04 PM
Meghan,
Wow. May you feel the hugs of all of us through this message!
Posted by: Jennifer McGraw | March 25, 2009 at 03:39 PM