I remember the exact smell of that hospital room. Antiseptic mixed with something floral from the air freshener they used. I was sitting on the examination table, my legs dangling because I was still small for my age, wearing one of those paper gowns that never closed properly in the back.
Dr. Patterson had just finished explaining my diagnosis to my parents. Acute lymphoblastic leukemia. Well, they called it the most common type of childhood cancer, he said, but also one of the most treatable. With aggressive chemotherapy, my survival rate was around 85 to 90%. Good odds, he kept saying. Really good odds.
My mother, Linda, sat in the plastic chair by the window, staring at a spot on the wall. My father, Robert, stood with his arms crossed, his face getting redder by the minute. My older sister, Jessica, 16 at the time, was texting on her phone, barely paying attention.
“The treatment protocol will be intensive,” Dr. Patterson continued, pulling up charts on his tablet. “We’re looking at approximately 2 to 3 years of chemotherapy. The first phase is induction therapy, which lasts about a month. Sarah will need to be hospitalized for most of that time. Then we move to consolidation and maintenance phases, which can be done outpatient but will require frequent hospital visits.”
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