I Lost My Son to Leukemia, But Have Hope That Soon No More Parents Will

I remember standing in my kitchen when a TV ad featuring children with cancer and their families caught my eye. I recall thinking how terrible that experience must be. Like most of us, in the back of my mind, I thought it could never happen to me. Not to my child. After all, we ate all organic food, exercised, and had no family cancer history. I was that mom who tried to do everything "right." I couldn't have been more wrong.

It started with strange, dark bruises. But hey, all kids get bruises, don't they? Then a little weight loss. And did he look pale, or am I imagining it? I started Googling symptoms as we all do. The terrifying words "symptoms of childhood cancer" flashed across my screen each time. I never told anyone but watched him like a hawk.

Then, one week, symptoms escalated. Daily headaches—in a 5-year-old. Fevers. Coughing. We visited the pediatrician three times that week, where I rattled off a laundry list of concerns that I keep in my wallet to this day. On the final visit, I requested a blood test. The doctor asked me if I was worried about leukemia. I was but just couldn't say those words out loud.

The Diagnosis Came

I remember standing in my kitchen on a Saturday morning when the call came. Like a punch in the gut out of nowhere, the word "leukemia" had me doubled over. In an instant, I joined that club of tearful parents I'd seen on TV just months earlier. The unimaginable had happened to my child.

I rushed my firstborn son, Zach, to the emergency room in Dallas. Days later, he was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia or AML. What I didn't know then is that AML is very aggressive and remains, to this day, one of the childhood cancers with the poorest prognosis. But I was determined to continue to be that mom who would do everything right. I would ask the hard questions, research, push, and even travel to three different hospitals to find the best care for Zach. Despite the odds, hope endured.

Zach was a tall, tough, energetic kid with a booming voice and personality. He was a natural leader in a crowd who loved superhero costumes and rollercoasters. From the beginning, even as a kindergartner, he somehow understood, on a deep unspoken level, that his illness was serious. He'd do whatever it took to get better. He learned to dutifully swallow handfuls of pills at 2 a.m., down buckets of nasty liquid for scans and colonoscopies, and endure tortuous nasogastric (NG) feeding tube re-insertions because he'd suffer relentless nausea and throw up the tube.

Then Began the Brutal Treatments

Four years. Multiple rounds of maximum-a-human-can-tolerate chemotherapy. Uncontrollable fevers. Full body radiation. Skin burned by treatment from the inside out. Countless trips to the emergency department and some to the intensive care unit. Months as an inpatient, often in isolation. Three bone marrow transplants. Yes, three.

This is pediatric AML. You see, unlike many adults, kids can tolerate the brutal therapy. And despite knowing the pain to come, they often maintain an amazing attitude and will to live. Zach wanted to live.

Sadly, despite doing everything in my power to save him (and I mean everything), he died in the intensive care unit, on a ventilator, at just 9 years old—weeks following his third transplant. Years of treatments meant to save him ended up destroying his liver. I always believed Zach could beat it, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

You see, despite great advances, kids are still dying of leukemia and treatment complications. Cancer remains the leading disease-related cause of death in kids, and leukemia continues to lead the list (only just edged out by brain tumors in 2021).

And surviving does not equal thriving. Pediatric leukemia survivors can struggle with a myriad of issues later in life, including organ damage, infertility, growth issues, secondary cancers, cognitive and psychological issues, and shortened lifespans.

I know this firsthand, as my college roommate's brother (a childhood acute lymphoblastic leukemia survivor) passed away in his 40s due to long-term, treatment-related liver issues. I learned of a baby that died of "popcorn lung," of all things, related to her bone marrow transplant, and another who became paralyzed from the neck down and blind from AML treatment. And these are children who were "cured."

But Hope Is High as Science Advances

Targeted and immune-based therapies and personalized medicine—combinations of drugs tailored to a patient's specific cancer profile and genetics—show great promise, especially in high-risk leukemias.

We live in a time of accelerated discovery and new cancer drug development thanks to organizations like The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS).

Sadly, however, on average, our kids wait more than 6 years to receive cutting-edge therapies designed for adults, even though their cancers are biologically different. Our tough, highly resilient kids—the pioneers of chemotherapy, bone marrow transplants, and cellular therapies—are last in line. This is wrong.

There Are Many Obstacles to Curing Childhood Cancers

As a former engineer and technology consultant, I have spent years working to understand the issues slowing progress in childhood cancer, which has been an eye-opening experience. While, yes, funding research remains imperative, there are a host of other barriers slowing progress in pediatric leukemia. This includes drug and genomic testing access, dated and underfunded infrastructure, inefficient processes, data silos, etc.

We have significant but solvable issues and tangible opportunities to improve outcomes. I am grateful that The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society recognizes the unique challenges we face today in pediatrics, and they are stepping up to lead a comprehensive, multi-front attack on childhood high-risk leukemias via their Children's Initiative.

I'm Still Fighting, and You Can Join Me

It's been five years since my Zach left. Like many of you, I struggle daily with guilt, "what ifs," and even motivation to get out of bed. Even writing this has been challenging. But, like Zach, I choose to continue on as a childhood leukemia advocate, LLS volunteer, and supporter of the Children's Initiative. Please consider joining me as a supporter, volunteer, or initiative partner.

After all, history has shown us that when we invest in our kids with cancer, our tough and resilient pioneers, we're investing in breakthroughs for ourselves. And it's just the right thing to do.

You can learn more about The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Children's Initiative at the organization's website.