I remember next to nothing about the years I was on treatment for ALL, but I do know the effects it left on me. For one thing, my immune system isn’t exactly its best. The easiest way to describe this would be in terms of a disgruntled security guard. At first, my immune system would be very eager to do its job, and quite patient in the way it was able to turn away that which wanted to trespass. The museum it was guarding (my body) was still new, and had many works of art that criminals (diseases) wanted to steal (infect). But the ALL was something different, and it brought on plenty of things for this poor fellow. The illness itself was a whole bunch of people trampling the security guard to conquer the museum and throw meat products at all the artwork, the chemotherapy was a massive pay cut and a difficult mortgage, and every other invasive medication were bricks upon his feet for no good reason.   

If you were that security guard, what would you do? Naturally, after all the people left, this security guard became jaded and solemn. He had seen the Dark Side. Now, he is too distracted sometimes to pay attention when shady evildoers wish to sneak in, and his limp from all the bricks on his feet prevent him from chasing them anyhow. Odds are, he has also gained a bit of weight and spends all day doing nothing but sitting at his post and staring off into space. When called on for his lack of work, he gets irritable and sits in the corner for a good while. As such, every now and then, someone needs to give him a nice cup of coffee and a rest. That would be the checkups. Most people’s security guards—still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed—don’t need coffee to do just fine. But for the rest of my life, I’m going to be regularly going to the doctor’s and getting picked about. Every time, I make the coffee and he just sits on his backside grumbling all the live long day.     

This isn’t to say that my ability to ward off threats was completely hindered by the ALL. Oh, no. Facing my own mortality at such a young age forced me to grow up, and while a lot of people would think that’s something to be all sad about, I love it. I’m glad that I was forced to mature, because knowing me; I wouldn’t have bothered to otherwise. I would still be the obnoxious kid who likes to run around in nothing but a cape and a plastic helmet. If anything I am grateful for ALL, because I might not have discovered the things in life that I truly love. It gives me a closer connection and awareness of my own body, and a more matured mind. Sure, I get sick and I get tired very easily and that is a bit of a bother, and sometimes I’m too old in my head for my peers. But I know the experience fashioned me into who I am today and I would not change that if I could.

            Robert, 15 yrs old, has been off treatment for ALL for 8 years. He was diagnosed when he was 4 1/2 and ended treatment near his 7th birthday.