Shortly after being diagnosed with Ewing’s Sarcoma, Alex started a journal. Her mother found it on Alex’s computer shortly after Alex passed away. There were only a few entries. Here’s how she described her introduction to cancer.
The Wake Up Call
It was very early in the morning, before sunrise, when I awoke; one of the first days in February, my birthday month. I was going to be 20 soon.
Sometime around 5 a.m., I felt a crippling pain creep down my leg. I lived in my sorority chapter house at the time, with three roommates.
By 6 a.m., the pain had intensified—a lot. I was curled in a ball with silent tears streaming down my cheeks. I had never felt pain so agonizing in my life.
College is supposed to push people to do things for themselves—to be on their own. But at the time, the only thing I could think to do was to call my dad.
I quietly crawled out of bed and curled myself up in our closet next door so I didn’t wake my roommates. My dad quickly responded and calmly told me he was on his way to take me to the hospital.
The only problem was he had to come all the way from my home, which is about an hour and 15 minutes’ drive from College Park. So I crawled back into bed where I quietly lay in a fetal position, while suffering through this immense throbbing pain. That hour was, without question, the longest hour I’ve ever endured.
When we finally reached the local emergency room, it was overwhelmingly crowded and unpleasant. The wait was long. And I don’t just mean read a few magazines and pass the time. It was excruciatingly long.
I needed the pain to subside.
Eventually, an older nurse called me back, and asked me a series of endless questions.
No, I had not fallen.
No, I had not done extensive exercise.
No, I have never experienced any pain like this before.
Just make it STOP.
After another extended period of time, I was blessed with the presence of a doctor who asked me all of the same questions and more. After a bit of discussion, he put in orders for various tests. In the meantime, he gave me a dose of oxycodone—for that I had never been so grateful.
It seemed his concerns were more along the lines of blood clots and kidney abnormalities. Wrong. Since I was complaining of hip pain, they first x-rayed my pelvis. They also took a CT scan of the same area.
Then came ultrasounds—the cold goo smeared across my pelvis and down my left leg. He ordered blood work and a urine test as routine hospital procedures as well.
Once the tests were finished, I was back to sitting in the exam room—waiting impatiently on the cold exam table, covered with that thin paper that crinkled and ripped every time I fidgeted. By this time hours had passed. If I had access to a window, I’m sure it would’ve been dark out.
On a positive note, the pain had diminished—not fully, but to a bearable level. Then there was a knock on the door.
“Scans were clear,” the doctor reported back.
I’m not sure if he sounded relieved or confused.
He did find a urinary tract infection. He explained that my pain was not likely a result of this infection, but wrote me a prescription for antibiotics and oxycodone and sent me on my way.
After returning to my small room, I went back to lying in my bed and opened my computer. I searched urinary tract infections hoping to put myself at ease, even though the doctor had not confirmed this as the cause of pain. I found that pelvic pain could result from severe UTIs, so I chalked it up to that. Two weeks later the pain had vanished.
Alex’s pain came back a couple months later, and then again a couple months after that.
After the third occurrence, she wrote, “There it was again—another ferocious wake-up call at an hour earlier than I ever willingly woke up.”
“I was beginning to see a pattern. And for that reason, I was beginning to grow concerned.”
“It was as if something inside of me was shouting at me, ‘Hey you, yeah you. I hope you haven’t forgotten about me, because I’m still here.’”
“Whatever it was, it was merciless.”
Ferocious and merciless are perfect adjectives for Ewing’s Sarcoma.
Getting to remission after the first occurrence was extraordinarily hard. When it came back, it was brutal.
What Alex accomplished in her final months was impressive for a healthy person and absolutely amazing once you got a look at what was going on inside her body.
This image was taken in November of 2015. Alex got Ravens tickets for my birthday. We saw the Ravens beat the Rams and Ed Reed inducted into the Ravens Ring of Honor.
By this time, she was seeing oncologists at the University of Maryland Medical Center, but they had yet to identify the problem. Within a month, they would confirm Ewing’s Sarcoma and our lives were forever changed.
Mitch and Dakota are participating in the Million Mile this month in Alex’s memory. They are raising funds for childhood cancer research so Alex’s story doesn’t have to be someone else’s story.
You can donate here.
All donations are matched by Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation.
Mitch, you are strong brother. A hero for sure. I can’t even imagine as a father what you were going through. You have steel blood in your body.
Again , I am dearly sorry this happened as we can say should’ve could’ve or would’ve. Any way never meeting Alex, she is up there taking care of those pets in need.
From the bottom of my hear, I am a phone call away buddy.