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Authors: Rachelle Sparks
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buried in Ray’s shoulder, and all he could do was nod. They needed each other more now than ever.
The next day, they knew exactly what they were dealing with.
5
“Katelyn has leukemia,” said Dr. Michael Joyce, an oncologist from Wolfson Children’s Hospital in Jacksonville, where Dr. Soud had referred Katelyn and her family.
“She has Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, or ALL, one of the most curable types of cancer,” he said, giving them some hope. “We can treat her here, but I think you should get her to St. Jude in Memphis. They are known for their work with cancer and they are up-to-date on all the latest and greatest treatments. We consult with St. Jude and we follow their protocol. It’s an option for you, but the decision is yours.”
They had called Memphis “home” for the past year, so the decision was easy. The next day, they were on a plane and admitted to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, where they learned Katelyn’s protocol—two weeks of intense chemotherapy to get the cancer into remission and then two-and-a-half years of daily, weekly, and monthly drugs to keep it there. After blood work and DNA testing to see how well Katelyn would respond to treatment, they learned that her cure rate was 98 percent.
This is gonna be a breeze,
Sharon thought.
There was a clear-cut plan, a fourteen-drug protocol, a strict regimen with precise doses, deadlines, direction, and a predicted, successful outcome. They just needed to take one step at a time, and those steps would lead them to the beginning of a cancer-free road.
But less than two weeks after being admitted, Katelyn developed a high fever and doctors discovered through cultures and blood work that she had bacteria in her blood and bowels, so they started her on antibiotics.
“Mom, my back hurts really bad,” Katelyn complained onenight, so Sharon went into the bathroom of her hospital room and filled the jetted Jacuzzi tub to the brim.
“Hop in,” Sharon said, and Katelyn sank into the water’s warm embrace. She closed her eyes and let her head rest gently on the cool porcelain—her body weightless, her mind free of cancer.
From the time Katelyn was six years old, she had spent nearly every single day of her life in a pool, swimming with her teammates, preparing for meets. The rise and fall of the breast stroke, the feeling of her body’s movement through water, its calming sensation, were all as natural as breathing, and, to her, just as important.
She lay in that tub as still as the water until her goose-bumped skin was as shriveled as a prune. Sharon smiled. She remembered the time Katelyn’s coach blew the whistle during a swim practice in the middle of winter and shouted, “Hit the showers!”
The other kids had climbed from the pool, but Katelyn continued down its length, lap after lap, lips quivering, breath lost, determined as ever.
“Time to get out,” Sharon said, helping her daughter from the tub and back into the hospital bed, her body as relaxed and free as the tide.
The next morning, Katelyn woke up with a splitting headache, worse than she had ever felt in her life.
“I can’t stand it,” she said with her hand pressed to her forehead, and Sharon filled the tub again. Katelyn climbed inside, and as she had the night before, she let her body sink to the bottom, become one with the water as her head rested peacefully and her eyes closed. Gentle water lapped against her body almost invisibly with every drip from the faucet. Sharon watched as water did its magic on Katelyn, soothing her from the inside out, before it turned on her and crashed violently, suddenly, against her.
Katelyn’s body jolted and stiffened, thrashed the water’s calm, sending tiny tidal waves onto the hospital floor.
“Help!” Sharon screamed, pulling the emergency cord with frantic, shaking hands as a nurse ran into the room and jumped, fully clothed, into the storm, lifting Katelyn from the tub into her arms until
The next day, they knew exactly what they were dealing with.
5
“Katelyn has leukemia,” said Dr. Michael Joyce, an oncologist from Wolfson Children’s Hospital in Jacksonville, where Dr. Soud had referred Katelyn and her family.
“She has Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, or ALL, one of the most curable types of cancer,” he said, giving them some hope. “We can treat her here, but I think you should get her to St. Jude in Memphis. They are known for their work with cancer and they are up-to-date on all the latest and greatest treatments. We consult with St. Jude and we follow their protocol. It’s an option for you, but the decision is yours.”
They had called Memphis “home” for the past year, so the decision was easy. The next day, they were on a plane and admitted to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, where they learned Katelyn’s protocol—two weeks of intense chemotherapy to get the cancer into remission and then two-and-a-half years of daily, weekly, and monthly drugs to keep it there. After blood work and DNA testing to see how well Katelyn would respond to treatment, they learned that her cure rate was 98 percent.
This is gonna be a breeze,
Sharon thought.
There was a clear-cut plan, a fourteen-drug protocol, a strict regimen with precise doses, deadlines, direction, and a predicted, successful outcome. They just needed to take one step at a time, and those steps would lead them to the beginning of a cancer-free road.
But less than two weeks after being admitted, Katelyn developed a high fever and doctors discovered through cultures and blood work that she had bacteria in her blood and bowels, so they started her on antibiotics.
“Mom, my back hurts really bad,” Katelyn complained onenight, so Sharon went into the bathroom of her hospital room and filled the jetted Jacuzzi tub to the brim.
“Hop in,” Sharon said, and Katelyn sank into the water’s warm embrace. She closed her eyes and let her head rest gently on the cool porcelain—her body weightless, her mind free of cancer.
From the time Katelyn was six years old, she had spent nearly every single day of her life in a pool, swimming with her teammates, preparing for meets. The rise and fall of the breast stroke, the feeling of her body’s movement through water, its calming sensation, were all as natural as breathing, and, to her, just as important.
She lay in that tub as still as the water until her goose-bumped skin was as shriveled as a prune. Sharon smiled. She remembered the time Katelyn’s coach blew the whistle during a swim practice in the middle of winter and shouted, “Hit the showers!”
The other kids had climbed from the pool, but Katelyn continued down its length, lap after lap, lips quivering, breath lost, determined as ever.
“Time to get out,” Sharon said, helping her daughter from the tub and back into the hospital bed, her body as relaxed and free as the tide.
The next morning, Katelyn woke up with a splitting headache, worse than she had ever felt in her life.
“I can’t stand it,” she said with her hand pressed to her forehead, and Sharon filled the tub again. Katelyn climbed inside, and as she had the night before, she let her body sink to the bottom, become one with the water as her head rested peacefully and her eyes closed. Gentle water lapped against her body almost invisibly with every drip from the faucet. Sharon watched as water did its magic on Katelyn, soothing her from the inside out, before it turned on her and crashed violently, suddenly, against her.
Katelyn’s body jolted and stiffened, thrashed the water’s calm, sending tiny tidal waves onto the hospital floor.
“Help!” Sharon screamed, pulling the emergency cord with frantic, shaking hands as a nurse ran into the room and jumped, fully clothed, into the storm, lifting Katelyn from the tub into her arms until
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