“Well, it’s what we thought. Your blood results confirmed you have Chronic Myeloid Leukemia…” The chubby hematologist with the world’s worst bedside manner continued rambling on with facts and figures, but I couldn’t hear anything more after ‘leukemia’.
I stared at my beautiful four month old daughter, Alaura. Her adorable, oversized purple bow and tiny diamond stud earrings that glinted in the fluorescent office lights tugged at my attention, giving me something else to focus on rather than the life-changing news I was being delivered.
I couldn’t think, could hardly breathe.
Don’t cry, Alisha…don’t cry.
At some point, I heard the doctor tell me not to stress too much. After all, my leukemia was—and I quote—the best leukemia I could get.
“Don’t get me wrong, it still sucks, but it’s kinda like…well, it’s like, yeah, you just got shot, but the bullet isn’t necessarily going to kill. You might lose a pinky finger, but you can still live a mostly normal life without it.”
I kid you not. That was this doctor’s idea of softening the blow.
I interrupted, knowing I wouldn’t be able to concentrate, and asked if I could call my hubby and put the call on speaker phone. He gave me permission, then proceeded to repeat the details of my diagnosis and treatment plan with Jon. Long story short, I was “lucky” enough to just need a small dose of chemo in pill form, every single day, for the rest of my life.
Oh, and it only costs about $15,000 a month. (Yes, that’s typed correctly. $15K every month!)
Thankfully, between insurance coverage and The Cancer Foundation, we’d be able to manage the cost, but there was no guarantee treatment would work, or that we’d have access to this financial help for the rest of my life.
Twenty minutes later, I sat in my van, and with shaking hands, dialed my mom’s number.
“Mom,” my voice cracked, no longer able to hold back the tears, “I have leukemia.”
She cried with me, and although I can’t remember what she said, I remember how I felt. Yes, I was a thirty year old woman, but I needed my mom. I needed her to tell me it was going to be ok. I needed her to believe it would be, because I didn’t have that kind of faith at the moment.
After hanging up, my next call was to God.
I was LIVID. My shock quickly turned to rage towards my Creator.
How dare You! I thought. I’ve done EVERYTHING I was supposed to do! I went to church all alone as a kid. I didn’t smoke, drink, do drugs, or even have sex all through my teens and early adulthood. I was a faithful wife. I loved my kids and stayed home to raise them instead of running off to chase a career. I served in church and paid my tithing and read my scriptures. And you have the audacity to give ME leukemia!
I admit, it wasn’t my finest moment, but it was real, raw, and unleashed.
God didn’t say anything back during my ride home though. He just listened. Letting me lay into Him with all my hurt, fear, and anger. As the minutes ticked by, that rage dissipated little by little, and my prayers changed to bargaining pleas for mercy. I promised Him the world, begged Him to take this away, tried convincing Him that I wasn’t deserving of such a brutal punishment.
And then, I was quiet.
Jon had left work early and planned to meet me at home. I pulled in the driveway, unloaded Alaura, and walked in the door. Seconds later, I was balling uncontrollably into Jon’s chest, his big, strong arms squeezing me tightly. I’m not sure who it was, but someone called my bishop and explained what was going on. He dropped what he was doing and came over right away to give me a priesthood blessing.
Again, the words aren’t super clear in my memory, but I do remember two specific things that were said. The first, was to follow the advice of my doctors, stating that they would be divinely inspired. The second, was a promise that I would be able to raise my babies in this life.
As the months passed, that blessing gave me hope, and I was able to adjust to my new normal. My hair, eyebrows, and lashes thinned and became brittle, breaking off and losing their normal luster. My bones and even my hair hurt. The brain fog was unreal…and so was the itching! You have no idea how annoying it is to itch on the daily!
Along with those super fun side effects, I also woke up with bruising in the most random spots, my gums sometimes bled when I brushed my teeth, and my hands would go numb (a real pain in the butt when I was trying to do hair or makeup for customers and clients!)
To top things off, nausea and fatigue were constant companions of mine. I didn’t throw up often, but I almost wished I did. At least that offered a few minutes of reprieve from the queasy feeling in my stomach. Having energy was a thing of the past, regardless of how much sleep I got. And of course, because chemo really wanted to leave its mark, I gained weight. A lot of it.
But, I was alive, and that’s what mattered most.
I won’t lie, many days I held that tiny chemo pill in my hand and just cried. It was ironic to me that a daily dose of poison was what was saving my life, but it was true nonetheless.
I hated swallowing that pill, and often the temptation to stop chemo and try other random forms of treatment bombarded me, but those parts of my blessing played in my mind and always prevented me from straying from my doctor’s advice.
I wish I could say I was the perfect example of hope and how to endure affliction well, but I was a huge complainer.
I was so focused on the bad, and felt so much like a victim, that I wasn’t able to see any blessings in this trial. At least, not until four years later.
My family, my brother, Zach and his family, and our parents, had all relocated from Florida to Utah. I loved our new state and all the beauty it had to offer. And bonus! I got a new doctor, Jason Stinnett, whose bedside manner was fantastic!
Mom had been faithfully attending church again (something her and my dad hadn’t done in decades), and had even given up smoking and drinking. Her goal was to go through the temple and receive her endowments (for those not familiar with my faith, this is a really big step in our religion and is a special ordinance that’s done when an individual is ready to make additional sacred covenants with God after baptism).
Exactly four years to the day after I was diagnosed with leukemia, Zach, his wife, Jess, and I, all got to be a part of Mom’s goal being accomplished.
I hadn’t known at the time, but found out later that the day I called Mom and told her I had leukemia, was the last day she touched alcohol. When we got off the phone, and I was busy yelling at God, Mom was pleading with Him. She promised if He would just save me, that she would stop drinking right then and there. And she did.
Now, if that were the only blessing that came from my leukemia, I’d happily go through it all again and again for Mom. But the blessings didn’t stop there.
Later that year, I was told about studies being done with CML patients who reached remission with chemo. Doctors were trying to see if those patients could successfully stop treatment altogether and still remain in remission.
This was HUGE! While it didn’t mean this was a cure, it did mean it was possible that the gene that caused my leukemia could possibly be “turned off” so to speak.
I was thrilled. The chemo I was taking had been doing its job beautifully, and according to my blookwork, my leukemia was undetectable. This meant I might soon be a candidate! My doc decided we would evaluate at my next six month visit.
However, when that time came, his tone changed.
“I don’t know why, but I really don’t feel good about recommending that you get off chemo at this time. I don’t have a medical reason for it, and it’s ultimately up to you, but I feel strongly that you should continue treatment for a few more years.”
Guys, I was crushed. I was angry. It was so unfair!
I went home, tempted more than ever to stop my meds out of spite, but once again, my blessing ran through my head. I knew this was one of those divinely inspired times I needed to listen to my doctor.
Well, I figured, since I couldn’t change the fact that I was still on treatment, I might as well change what I can. I decided enough was enough. I didn’t want to stay in that victim mentality anymore, so I started exercising daily gratitude, reading books, and listening to talks and podcasts on personal growth and development. I did what I could to draw closer to God by getting outside of myself and looking for ways to create beauty where I could. I found I had a passion for helping women feel better about themselves (probably because I felt so horrible about myself most days), and ended up doing over a hundred free makeovers for women in my area.
And here’s the funny thing. My symptoms started to subside. I still carried too much excess weight, but I found I had more energy and less nausea. The pain and numbness I had experienced was still there, but it was manageable, and not nearly as debilitating as it had been. And although my hair and lashes were still thinning, I had more days than not when I felt pretty despite that.
All the growing, testimony building, and service I did over the next few years, ended up being the very things that carried me through my grief when Zach died. In essence, I realized that my leukemia gave me an opportunity to be stronger, happier, better…
Then, when I least expected it, it happened.
Exactly seven years to the day after my diagnosis, I was able to stop chemo. I was OFFICIALLY in complete remission without any medication!!!
That morning, I kept thinking about the woman in the scriptures who had an issue of blood for twelve years. Although our blood issues were different, I felt connected to her. I knew what it was like to be consumed with worry and to feel completely helpless in my own body for years. I knew what it was like to feel like I had to fight my way through obstacles just to reach the Savior.
And I now knew what it was like to experience a healing miracle.
It’s been ten years since my diagnosis, and I’m happy to report that for now, I’m still doing well without chemo. There’s no guarantee that it’ll last indefinitely, but I have peace knowing that Heavenly Father really does work all things to our good.
One of my favorite scriptures found in Doctrine and Covenants 122 says:
“If thou art called to pass through tribulation; if thou art in perils among false brethren; if thou art in perils among robbers; if thou art in perils by land or by sea;
If thou art accused with all manner of false accusations; if thine enemies fall upon thee…
And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep; if the billowing surge conspire against thee; if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son (or daughter), that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.
Therefore, hold on thy way, and the priesthood shall remain with thee; for their bounds are set, they cannot pass. Thy days are known, and thy years shall not be numbered less; therefore, fear not what man can do, for God shall be with you forever and ever.”
Sometimes, we get so focused on the pills we’re forced to swallow in life, and the pain and discomfort those cause, that we convince ourselves we’re being poisoned to death, that we’re victims of unfair judgements, and that we don’t deserve what’s happening. Focusing on those things though, will make it easy to miss the tiny miracles, the opportunities to serve, and the potential growth that awaits us. It’s in those moments where we get a choice. We can either stay the victim and hold tight to the belief that bad things are happening to us. Or we can trust in a Higher Power, and believe those things are happening for us.
I’m so grateful for all the good I’ve seen because of my leukemia, and for all the beauty that’s come from such an ugly disease. I’m grateful for the priesthood blessings I’ve received and for the prayers that have been answered by my Heavenly Father. I hope that one day my faith will be as strong as those we learn about in the scriptures, but until that day, I’m happy for the simple faith I have now, and for the way it grows as I keep reaching for my Savior.
Whatever happens, I’ll continue to hold on my way, I’ll continue to trust in the Lord, and I’ll continue to focus on the good and experiences the Lord gifts to me every single day.
For those interested in a more in depth look into the ways I exercised faith in my healing, here’s a video of a podcast I was a guest on. And check out my own podcast, Latter Day Lights, for more on my story.
Oh, Alisha, your story is inspiring. Hold on thy way and continue to bless others with your testimony of unwavering strength of faith, hope,and charity.
Alisha, I am so sorry I didn’t know all the things you had to go through, and how much hurt , fear and loneliness you must have felt. Looking back I wish I could have done more or had been there more for you. Please forgive me!!! i love you so very much.