I always thought childhood cancer was rare, until the summer of 2011. I remember my mom calling me at work telling me my 2-year-old daughter, Natalie, had just thrown up. I guessed it was just a virus, and didn’t think much about it. I took Natalie to the pediatrician, and the nurse practitioner knew something wasn’t right. She brought in the doctor, and he was going to setup tests. Then he looked at me and asked, “What color was the vomit?” I told him dark green.
With that one question, he immediately sent us to the ER. He tried not to scare me. He told me they would check her bowels, probably give her an enema. When we arrived at the ER, we were given a room immediately, and things escalated quickly. I’ll never forget holding Natalie down for 30 minutes while she screamed during an ultrasound. The tech told her, “The more you move, the harder I have to press.” We had no clue she was pressing down on multiple tumors. Next, I was in front of two doctors discussing the ultrasound. The doctor told me Natalie had a mass on her ovary and at this point, I was getting irritated. I told the doctor out of disbelief, “No, I’m here for her bowels.” They decided to do a CT scan, then we waited. I called my husband telling him he needed to “superman” himself to the hospital because things were moving quickly. Mentally, I was freaking out–I thought a doctor was going to tell me my daughter needs to have surgery to remove her ovary. That was the fear going through my mind.
My family arrived, and a doctor told me I would speak with an oncologist. At first, I didn’t catch the word–my mind was racing and so much was coming at me. In the waiting room, my mom mentioned meeting with the oncologist. I said, “ONCOLOGIST!” and it clicked, I just fell to the floor sobbing. I knew all too well what that meant… it was a long a night at the hospital. Natalie was stuck with needles so many times she finally stopped crying and just passed out.
We soon found out Natalie had so many tumors in her abdomen the doctors couldn’t even give us a count. They told us she had Burkitt’s lymphoma, and it was stage 3. The oncologist informed us this was an extremely aggressive form of childhood cancer, and she probably only developed it 14 days prior. He also informed us the tumors could double in size within just 24 hours. He asked me if I had started to read the book he gave me on Burkitt’s. I had not. I knew if I read it, fear would take over. I decided at that point to lean on my faith.
Within one month my husband and I watched our healthy 2-year-old daughter lose her hair, be placed on a morphine pump, stop talking due to the immense pain, and my days became a blur. Over the next year, Natalie spent over 72 days at Wolfson Children’s Hospital, 30 of those days in isolation set apart from friends and other family. Over the course of treatment, she had 9 spinal taps, 7 CAT scans, 7 X-rays, and was under anesthesia 16 times. We were back and forth to the hospital more times than I can count. Natalie received a total of 5 rounds of chemotherapy. I was thankful to be there with her throughout this entire process, but it took a toll on our family. Thank God my mother was available to care for my older daughter, Julie, and my husband continued to work, providing for our family. Some families aren’t as fortunate.
Natalie is now considered out of remission and is on long-term follow-up. While she will continue to see her pediatric oncologist every year until she turns 21, she is considered ‘cured.’ This past summer marked five years since that dreadful trip to the ER. I still drop to my knees and thank God for saving her.
One of the hardest things I learned on our journey is childhood cancer is not rare. I was so wrapped up with Natalie–but then I opened her hospital door and met family after family fighting childhood cancer right alongside us. Natalie’s hospital buddy Michael is still fighting five years later, it’s unthinkable. Watching his journey has hit me to my core!
One of the most incredible things I learned from Natalie’s journey is that we are not meant to handle life’s challenges on our own. I had to learn to let go of my pride and let people help us. We had an army of people who did just that! I can honestly say the Tom Coughlin Jay Fund was a huge help! In the 72 days Natalie spent in the hospital, she NEVER fought alone, and a big reason for that is the Jay Fund! Their financial and emotional support was so meaningful to our family.
September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. Raising awareness of childhood cancer and the toll it takes on these kids and their families is important to my family and the one hundred other Jacksonville families who have a child diagnosed with cancer every year. The more who join in the movement, the closer researchers will be to cures, and the more support families will have while they deal with it.
Every day in the United States over 36 children are diagnosed with cancer. That’s the equivalent of one classroom full of kids. Supporting the Tom Coughlin Jay Fund Foundation helps Jacksonville families face the challenges of childhood cancer. The Jay Fund made a difference in our lives during Natalie’s battle, you can make a difference too. GO GOLD…BE THERE for these families at tcjayfund.org/gogold!
Thank you, Deborah Walker, for sharing your family’s journey with our readers.
