Losing is Not an Option
By Christi Scovel
It was June 5, 2020, and I had just gotten into a head-on collision with my son Matthew. We walked away with what we thought were minor injuries, but after a week of rest and some physical therapy, Matthew did not recover. He started to decline.
After multiple doctor visits, ER visits, tests, scans, and bloodwork, nothing showed except for some injuries from the car accident that had been missed. We grasped at straws. We did two Covid tests and tested him for mono, Lyme disease, and rocky mountain spotted fever. All were negative. All that we could find were low platelets. So, we visited a hematology oncology (HemOnc) doctor who ran bloodwork for leukemia, which came back negative.
On July 19, 2020, we held a “Birthday Prom” in the backyard for Matthew because he missed prom due to Covid and was so sick on his actual birthday. We thought this would brighten his spirits to see some of his friends and dance. The following day, he got up and collapsed. I loaded him up in the car and took him to Audubon Hospital ER, where his HemOnc doctor was. When we got there, the ER doctor asked what brought us in.
I started from the beginning, the day of the car accident.
After running more blood work, it was recommended that he needed a bone marrow biopsy. The next day, the doctor busted through our door. He was breathing heavily and sweating, so I knew he had run from his office to our hospital room.
He told me that Matthew’s bone marrow biopsy results had come back, and he had B-cell acute lymphoblastic leukemia.
We need to start chemotherapy immediately and be aggressive with treatment.
My heart shattered. Being a cancer survivor myself, I knew what this meant. I knew what we were facing. I looked at the doctor and said, “Do whatever you need to do to make him well.”
We were in the thick of Covid and now a cancer diagnosis, but there was something else to consider. Down syndrome.
Because of Matthew’s age and the fact that he also has Down syndrome, he is considered high risk, so his treatment is aggressive. With this in mind, we decided to enroll him in a study for patients with Down syndrome and his specific type of leukemia. Since older individuals with Down syndrome do not tolerate standard chemotherapy, this study is a roadmap on how much and what types of chemo work best for this leukemia.
On July 23, 2020, they did a spinal tap and gave him his first dose of chemotherapy into his spinal fluid and another bone marrow biopsy. This was the start of many procedures and lengthy stays in the hospital.
He was angry, frustrated, tired of being poked and prodded, tired of medicine, and feeling bad. He refused food, drinks; he would take his oral medications and throw them at us. He was not himself, and it broke my heart. He was not sunshine and joy at that time. His smiles and laughs, and giggles were so few and far between. I was so afraid that this was who he had become, and we had lost that bubbly personality. I was so afraid that it had changed him.
Before leukemia, Matthew thrived at school. He would dance in talent shows, attend ball games and cheer on his classmates. He played the drums in a band, was on the archery team, bowled in a bowling tournament with the bowling team, and was in Fit Club, Pep Club, and Homecoming King in 2019. He was the life of the party and loved by all. He made people smile; he cheered them up when they were sad. He was kind to everyone and never saw differences.
It’s been hard to see all that cancer has robbed him of. The lowest point was when he pleaded with me not to let him die. I don’t think we will ever be the same, but we must push forward.
We are finally on the other side of my son’s cancer diagnosis, or at least I hope so. Matthew finished treatment 8 months ago, and more recently completed his first 5k run.
Through it all, there was always hope on our darkest days. Leukemia might have robbed him of some experiences, but it didn’t win. It didn’t steal his joy, his sense of humor, it didn’t make him bitter or angry and even though I never thought it was possible, as he has always been a compassionate person, it made him even more so. We no longer take tomorrow for granted. We live our best life for today and thank God for our blessings through the storm.
