One More Minute

Part One: The Diagnosis

When you are sick you think, "I'll take some medicine and get better." Sometimes thats not always the case.

My name is Naomi. I am seventeen years old and I have Leukemia. I was diagnosed when I was only seven years old. Ten years I have been fighting off and on with my own body. My days are limited right now. I don't even know if I will be here long enough to tell my story, but I want to try to tell you about this wonderful life I've been blessed enough to live. Let's start with when I was first diagnosed.

I don't really remember a lot when I first got diagnosed, but I do remember the exact moment when my parents got the news. We were all sitting in the hospital waiting room. I was watching the nurses running to and fro. I remember thinking, I want to be just like them. My mom kept asking me if I wanted a snack or juice. I didn't have much of an appetite though. I saw the doctor before my parents did. The look on his face was sorrowful. Only being seven, I didn't quite understand why.

When my parents noticed him, they both stood. I tried to listen to what the doctor was saying, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. Words like 'luekemia' and 'cancer' were foreign to me. The tears in my mother's eyes told me that it wasn't good news. My parents talked with the doctor for what seems like forever before he nodded at them and walked away. I saw the sympatheic looks the nurses at the desk were giving me. Now I can understand their looks. How do you tell a seven year old that she has cancer? 

My parents tried to explain it as best as they could to me. They took me out for ice cream and we sat in the park as my dad told me that I was really sick. I remember just nodding at him. I knew I was sick, but I didn't fully understand how sick I really was. My mom couldn't even speak. She just sat beside me and watched me with tears in her eyes. After that, it is all a blur until I was admitted into St. Jude's. 

I had just turned eight years old. I didn't have a birthday party or cake because I slept the whole day. I only got out of bed twice. Once to use the bathroom, and once to throw up. My parents rushed me to the hospital around five that evening. They said they waited for hours to find out that the medicine that I was taking was not reacting well with my body and I needed professional care. I don't remember the wait, but I do remember the five hour drive to St. Jude's the next day. 

My first few days in the hospital I was asleep. I faintly remember the doctor waking me up once, but that was it. When I finally woke up I was surprised by a few nurses with a cake and balloons. They had heard that I didn't get to have a birthday, so they gave me a small one. I didn't know anyone there yet, but I felt so happy. I stayed at St. Jude's for almost a year before I was told I was in remission. I was finally a happy child again. I went back to school and made new friends. I could actually go to the park and have fun.

I was happy for three years before I was told the cancer was back..