My journey through cancer

         I am a survivor of pediatric acute myloid leukemia. This journey officially started January 7th in 2012, the prelude to the story happened in mere weeks before diagnosis.
         On December 18th I went out for pictures with a few of my friends to celebrate turning 17, the day after the photo-shoot I had my first bruise. We didn't think too much of the massive bruise because I already bruised easily. On January 1st I went to work at the auction, I got there feeling just fine, but I ended up having to have one of my bosses granddaughters come up and help me because I could not move without blacking out, nor could I move with any of my normal speed. I was overly tired, just absolutely exhausted.  I slept for the next 3 days. Then I tried going to school, made it 1 full day, and had to leave before 1st hour ended the next too. This was not my normal, we started talking about getting me into a doctor. Then on the 7th I had another auction I was supposed to work, made it through the night with the help of my bosses granddaughter again. After I got home from the auction I decided to take a nap, it was when I woke up that my word started falling apart...
         I woke up with my 3rd pallet abscess, my 3rd infection pocket on the roof of my mouth. This meant an immediate hospital trip in the least, a drainage of any fluid build-up, and possibly a complete removal of all tissue on the roof, and that would include a pallet repair. So I was already looking at some unwanted hospital time... I never in a million years would have expected things to turn out like they did.
         When we got to Saint Louis Children's Hospital's ER I was rushed back into a room, we were seriously greeted at the door of the hospital, they started doing all the normal blood tests and wanted to get a sample of the fluid from the abscess, so they (attempted to anyway) numb my mouth and lance, well, stab, the bubble. It was one of the most painful things I've ever experienced, and I've had a door fall out of the air and land on my face.
         After they drained it, I just kept bleeding and bleeding. After a while a doctor came in and said that my blood tests were coming back a little funny and that they needed to take more blood to make sure there wasn't a lab error, so we waited, and I kept bleeding. When they came back they said an oncologist was coming down to speak to us, I wasn't worried about that, but I didn't know what an oncologist was...
         Doctor Fields was the one to deliver the bad news. I had leukemia. I had cancer. I really don't remember a lot after that. I think I just kinda shut down, became numb. I remember my dad crying, that's about it... And the only reason I remember that is because it was the first time I had ever seen my dad cry, and it scared me. That was the first time I thought that I had a death sentence, that I wasn't going to make it.
         After that, life became a bit of a blur. I had spinal taps, a broviac placed, bone marrow biopsies, started chemo. I do remember that I kept my hair long enough that I thought it wouldn't fall out, but on January 23 my hair did start falling out. I didn't handle that too well... It was another slap in the face that something was wrong. I don't think I've ever cried as hard as I did then. One of the child-life workers from the hospital came into my room then, saw how upset I was and asked what was wrong, so I pulled at my hair and a huge handful came out, Chris just walked outta my room and when she came back about 10 minutes later she had a bunch of papers for different foundations that would give me a wig, I chose one that was specifically for women under the age of 21 that had a medical reason for hair loss. That was one of the first good moments I had after being diagnosed. I know many of you might be thinking "It's just hair, it grows back." but what you don't understand is that it's totally different than just shaving your head. It wasn't my choice, I had all my choices taken away on January 7th. I lost control of my life.
         I spent 43 days in the hospital the first time. I had like 6 spinal taps with chemo injections. Those were the worst, I've never had worse migraines... I could do nothing but sit in my dark room in silence and sleep. I was so sick that whole time I couldn't even eat. When I finally got to go home it was only for a week or so, and I still had to go to the hospital one day of that week for clinic. I don't really remember what I did during my time home.
         When I went back to the hospital we were a little better prepared. I had more clothes, beads, books, you name it. I wasn't gonna sit there bored again for a month or more. I can't remember what all I did for this stay either. Everything is such a blur anyway, and top that off with what I like to call chemo-brain, I have issues remembering peoples names even. I don't remember how long this hospital stay was, nor do I remember much of anything about the 3rd.
         Writing about my year is so difficult when I can barely remember yesterday. I know I was upset and depressed much of the time. I wasn't nice to most of the staff even though I adore them and owe them my life. But I guess when you're 17, diagnosed with leukemia, and stuck in a single building for at least 30 days, you kinda loose patience for people coming in and out of your room, telling you what to do, poking and prodding at you. 
         Throughout this year I've been asked so many times how I keep so strong and deal with everything I've been dealt. I don't know. Most of it is a huge act, there were times I wished that the cancer would just overtake me, so that I'd just be done and slip away. I've gotten tired of fighting against these bad cells in my body, how can something so small have such an effect on my body. How was I ever to feel confident that my treatment wouldn't kill me? In my eyes I had 1/5 of a chance of living. The cancer could kill me. The chemo could kill me. The bone marrow transplant could kill me. Getting a cold or anything like that could kill me. I could live. I had 5 outcomes, 4 were against me. I've been asked if I believe in god, and my answer is no. God didn't save me, doctors did. So, I haven't been strong or tough. I've just put up with what I've had, and most of the time I did a horrible job.
         My 4th say in the hospital was a big one, it was my bone marrow transplant. It meant I had to go through major chemo, stay in a single room. For this hospital stay I couldn't even roam the hospital, it was horrible being cooped up like that. The transplant itself didn't feel like anything to me, but I know that it's a big deal. My donor was my little sister, Josie. I may pick on her, but I owe her everything.