My story began nearly seven years ago on February 28 when I received the call from my doctor and heard those dreaded words, “You have cancer.” A week prior, I had gotten a lymph node biopsy for a lump that randomly grew on my neck.
I am a 26-year-old cancer survivor and am about to begin my first year of law school.
I was diagnosed with acute promyelocytic leukemia (APL) on January 24, 2019. I hadn’t been feeling well for a while. I was having very odd symptoms. For example, I was having joint pains, I kept hearing this whooshing noise, my gums were bleeding, and the biggest symptom was I would get out of breath so easily. Walking up the steps of my apartment building felt like running a marathon.
I was diagnosed with acute promyelocytic leukemia (APL) on January 24, 2019. I hadn’t been feeling well for a while. I was having very odd symptoms. For example, I was having joint pains, I kept hearing this whooshing noise, my gums were bleeding, and the biggest symptom was I would get out of breath so easily. Walking up the steps of my apartment building felt like running a marathon.
During the start of the pandemic, my boyfriend began working out from home with all the gyms being closed. While working out, he discovered a lump under his arm. We both waved it off as nothing to worry about, but he still asked his doctor about it just in case.
I'll never forget the call I received on April 17, 2017, when my then-three-year-old niece, Zainab, was diagnosed with leukemia. At the time, she was a bubble-blowing, pose-striking, diva princess.
I was diagnosed with Leukemia when I was 20 months old. I endured treatment for a little over 2 years until I was declared cancer free. Since I was diagnosed so young, I do not remember the treatment.
My grandson, Dominick, was diagnosed with high risk pre b cell acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL) in November 2014. He was 2 3/4 years old and it was only 8 months after his dad unexpectedly passed away. Obviously this was a new shock for his mom, Danielle and his family.
In May 2019, when Carter was just two years old. While attending his cousin’s graduation in New York City, I knew something was not right because he was not feeling well. We rushed him to New York Presbyterian Hospital where he received several blood and platelet transfusions.