Before I was diagnosed with cancer I was very healthy, fit, played sports and knew very little about cancer. I thought nothing like this would ever come upon me but on October 26th I got horrific, frightening, unbelievable news. I got home from school one day and there was a message for Mum on the phone. I was at the medical centre the day before getting a blood test because I had lumps in my glands. A doctor had received my blood results from the day before and I was told to come into Westmead Children's Hospital.
I was taken to the emergency ward and I was put into a room. I felt happy, great and healthy and a little excited for some reason. I didn't really know what was going on. The bad thing about this was that my Mum knew about my condition from the moment she was told to come in to the hospital but she waited for the doctors to tell me. My mum called in a friend to keep me busy, we played I spy for about an hour until we ran out of things to spy so we just watched television. I was taken out of the temporary emergency room and moved into a permanent ward stay room.
I was in the room with my Mum, Dad, uncle and brother. Two doctors came and a short time later they took my Mum and Dad into an interview room. They were told about my condition and that it would take two years to treat it! The doctors then came and asked me "what is the worst thing that could happen to you"? I said I didn't know and they told me. Everything went black I wasn't responding to any form of contact I just went silent and had that lump in my throat that you get when you hold your tears back I wondered what was going to happen over the 2 years which were to follow.
7 months later...
I thought I was getting better but when the doctors told me that the leukaemia was beating the chemotherapy I got worried and thought this thing was going to beat me. But the doctors had a solution a bone marrow transplant (B.M.T) but the problem was we had to find a donor and that could take @##$! Who knows how long!!!!. Even though the chemo was working, it wasn't strong enough but they continued the therapy while we were trying to find a donor. My mum, dad, brother, my two uncles, my two aunties, five of my cousins and four friends went for a blood test to see if they could find a match. The last person that did the test was my uncle Nick and guess what? He was a match. After two months of planning for the B.M.T we were admitted into Camperdown ward. There was eight days of chemotherapy and radiation therapy. The operation then happened on the 15th of September. I then had to endure 52 days of recovery as an inpatient (IT WAS HELL). It has been 81 days since my B.M.T.
I am now recovering at home and getting better and better everyday.