Embracing the New Version of Myself, a Childhood Leukemia Survivor’s Story
On Easter morning of 2005, Dr. Lenarsky introduced himself as an oncologist, handed me a basket of chocolate and delivered the devastating news — I had Leukemia. I was only eleven at the time, so as most young teenage girls in my position, my first question was “am I going to lose my hair?” Spoiler alert: I did. But I latched onto the awkward chunks of hair on my head until the day of my transplant five months later.
The treatment was a blur, but a few memories continue to haunt me. I remember vomiting while receiving total body irradiation with the nurse frantically running in to intercept. I remember my very first chemotherapy treatment leaving me in an excruciating amount of pain and a fever so high that my body had to be covered in ice packs for hours. I remember making phone calls to my friends and family to break the news while comforting them — everything is going to be okay — even though I didn’t know if that would be true.
After five months of chemotherapy, I received a bone marrow transplant from my only brother who, by some miracle, was a perfect match. My doctors worked tirelessly to save my life, but I don’t know if anyone could have adequately prepared me for life after cancer.
Although I was no longer bald and in treatment, I was still suffering. I had no earthly idea how to deal with all the intense emotions like grief, fear, and anger — but I was determined to fit in and convince everyone around me that I was thriving. I made a conscious effort to stifle my emotions which, ultimately, led me down a dark path to anxiety and depression. My teachers and peers were always telling me, ‘you’re so strong for overcoming cancer.’ But, deep down, I didn’t feel like I exemplified the strength of a cancer survivor.
It has taken many years of therapy, but I finally learned how to safely experience those intense emotions and fight against the instinct to isolate myself. Instead of making a conscious effort to swallow my experience, I had no choice but to open up to close friends and family and embrace the new version myself: a survivor. Only then did I feel like I was actually strong — rather than simply pretending to be strong.
I continue to struggle with the long-term effects of treatment: infertility, hypothyroidism, chronic graft versus host disease, depression, anxiety… to name a few! But, as a member of the Young Adult (YA) Advisory Board at the Livestrong Cancer Institutes, I feel as though it is my duty to share my experience and advocate for adolescents and young adults affected by cancer across the globe.
Liz Hagag is a childhood Leukemia survivor, University of Texas at Austin Alumna, Livestrong employee and member of the young adult advisory board at the Livestrong Cancer Institutes at the University of Texas at Austin.
