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True Story!

family health So out of nowhere, in the middle of a sleepless night, I decided to write about my past. Not exactly the kind of inspirational story I was hoping it'd turn out, but heck, I hope it helps people in some way.

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High fever for weeks.

That is how it all started. It was the end of the year 1990. I vaguely remember school holiday was just around the corner. I was 10 years old - a Primary 5 student anxiously waiting for a school trip to Singapore when a high fever strikes me for than 2 weeks. Needless to say, the story ends with me not able to join my then-schoolmates to the trip.

Everyone thought it was just a mere fever. I wasn't weak or anything. Just feverish. My mom decided to have me do a blood test at a local clinic. The day we went collecting the result of the blood sample is when the tragic moment begins. I swear, almost all the nurses in the clinic was giving me a rather peculiar look. Everyone, including the doctor started asking me and my mom if I'm doing alright at school, do I exercise, how is my diet and so on. I was asked to leave the doctor's room.

Few moments later, my mom came out from the doctor's room - shattered, broke down in tears and starting calling my dad on her mobile phone. I have had Leukaemia - so I have been told (my white blood cells was then, more than 350).

I was sent to Subang Hospital for further investigation. More blood samples are taken and the diagnosis was confirmed. Leukaemia indeed - a word so strange to me and my parents. We have absolutely no idea what that was at all. The in-charge Doctor informed us about a Professor who specializes in Children's Cancer at University Hospital (now UMMC) and that I should be admitted at the said hospital for immediate treatment.

Late at 9pm the very same day, I was admitted to University Hospital. I don't remember much that has happened then, except for a bone marrow biopsy done and then it was a hospital nightmare for me for the next 9 months.

It was the first time I was introduced to words like gauze, syringes, IV, HB, WBC, platelet so forth and it was also my very first experience of having my skin poked through needles and body with local anaesthetics and danglings with IV bottles of god-knows-what. A lot to remember for a 10 year old. A lot of pain involved indefinitely but I was a strong boy then and I knew exactly that I need to be strong. Hence the very word of ‘pain’ only exist in my mind, not through my lips.

Mom stayed with me at the hospital the entire chemotherapy. Whilst the side effects were tremendously torturing (ie. nausea, vomiting, fever, bruises), we constantly try to cheer each other up. We were sketching, reading books, joke around, chit chatting and 9 months went by pretty sooner than I thought.

I was sent home with follow ups every alternate week at the hospital. I was cured and was assured that after 5 years I should be pretty well as any normal boys. I started going back to school to continue my Primary 6. I sat for UPSR examination and surprisingly did pretty well. Not bad for a suffering child who had missed almost 1 whole year of school.

But the story does not end here.

6 years went by. That is right, 6 very good years of childhood. I was 16 years old then - I went from Primary school to Secondary School, I did my PMR examination and all of a sudden, a familiar fate unknowingly returns.

Mom spotted a swelling near my neck and off we went for another biopsy test. I thought to myself - I must have been a cancer magnet. I have had a relapse of Leukaemia. This time, the strong me broke down in tears. I recall myself calling my classmate late at night, crying and have him inform the school of my condition and that I would need to stop class. It was never easy. This time, it felt like the sky is collapsing and I have no shelter to hide anymore. I thought to myself - this would be it - another round of chemotherapy nightmares again and I may not be as lucky this time.

I was admitted back to the same hospital. After all these years, who would’ve thought I would be lying down on the hospital bed once more. I was completely devastated. I was also informed that the routine chemotherapy may not suffix and I would require a bone marrow transplant to be completely cured.

Great news, not.

Those of you who is aware of bone marrow transplant should know by now that this is a tedious task. ‘Tedious’ is an understatement. The probability of finding a suitable donor is hard to reach even amongst immediate family. The most matching donor would usually be of your siblings’ and the fact that I only have 1 elder brother is rather, ‘inadequate’.

But that does not equate to mission impossible. You guessed it. Couple of weeks down the road, god sent a heavenly great news to me and family. Who would’ve thought - my only brother in the world, has a 4 out of 5 matching criteria needed (with blood type being the unmatched criteria) which makes him my suitable donor. It was a miracle.

And so I was there at University Hospital with yet another round of intensive chemotherapy. What we didn’t know was, a bone marrow transplant is not as easy, a procedure. The side effects that follows were more than just pain. It was a terrifying experience for everyone, both the patient and the family. I was in a complication state where they called it a ‘Graft-versus-Host’ disease (‘GVHD’ for short). It occurs when the transplanted immune cells attack the host's body cells.

I was experiencing heart aches, chills, breathlessness, diabetes, so forth and I even had kidney disease which requires me to undergo dialysis. I was given ample of suppressants but which my body kept rejecting. Tough time it was. A new challenge faced day after day.

8 months went by. I may still be weak then, but my body is finally giving in. Traces and evidence of recovery is showing. Slowly, but surely my immune system is back up and running. Many thanks to the doctors and nurses at University Hospital for their unconditional support over time. My name has certainly ranked up as the most chaotic, if not, troublesome patient of all time that year.

Soon after, I was back to school again. Despite the weak body, I pulled through the SPM examination with flying colors, went on to college and then University and now I work as an Art Director. I am 32 years old (at the time of writing).

So now what does my 2 full page story says? Here’s a quick 5 pointers that all of us should remember and believe in:

1) That Leukaemia isn’t something to be afraid of. It can be cured.
2) Have faith in your doctors. Do not hesitate to send your child for immediate treatment.
3) Leukaemia can never take away your childhood. You can live normally again.
4) Leukaemia does not affect your future and you shouldn’t let it do so.
5) Stay positive, even at your utmost disappointment.

Cheers.