What does it mean to battle? It means you are being attacked. You are being faced with challenges, you don’t know what to expect, and the unknown is always present. A battle can be fierce, exhausting, and emotional.
Now . . . imagine having to endure multiple battles with no time to train or recover from the last blow. That is what battling cancer is like; that is what Cristian had experienced the last year of his life. Cristian’s battle began in August 2024, two weeks into his freshman year in high school and one month before his 15th birthday. One day, while riding his ebike with a friend, he experienced a dizzy spell and fell off his bike. He was vomiting nonstop and couldn’t get up. His father raced him to the ER. After several tests, it was confirmed that Cristian had a form of blood cancer. He was transferred to Lucille Packard Children’s Hospital, where he was officially diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia AML. He immediately began chemotherapy treatments.
Cristian underwent intensive chemotherapy for five months without leaving the hospital. He endured treatment that would wipe out most grown adults. Due to the lack of response to these treatments, his AML was now labeled refractory. With the help of Dr. Tanja Grueber, she was able to refer Cristian to multiple targeted therapy clinical trials. He became eligible for CAR-T cell immunotherapy treatment and was accepted into a clinical trial at Memorial Sloan Kettering in New York under the care of Dr. Kevin Curran. In February, Cristian and his family moved to New York in hopes that this clinical trial would put Cristian’s cancer into remission, and he would be able to get a stem cell transplant. After a month in New York, his CAR-T cells were ready. He received his CAR-T cell infusion on March 6, 2025. About a week later, after careful observation, he was admitted into the ICU due to a severe inflammatory response to the treatment. While in the ICU, Cristin experienced dangerous levels of low blood pressure. During that time, the clinical trial team broke the news to us that the treatment was not successful, and his AML was progressing. We were completely heartbroken and faced with the reality that his AML was untreatable.
That news was not going to break Cristian’s spirit to keep hoping and fighting to find a cure. He was determined to fight for his life, and we were going to do whatever it was going to take. After getting his blood pressure under control and stabilizing his inflammation, we flew from New York back to Lucille Packard Children’s Hospital in Palo Alto, California, where he continued experimental therapies under the care of Dr. Grueber.
His AML began to evolve into newer mutations and became more resistant to treatments. We were definitely in a battle. Another clinical trial came up that involved creating donor cells into natural killer cells, which were supposed to target the leukemia cells and kill them. This trial was in Cincinnati, Ohio. Despite his illness progressing and being dependent on platelet and blood transfusions, Cristian’s hope did not waver. He did not complain about the long flight or exhaustion; he was looking forward to getting a break from the hospital and being able to see a new city. His youthful outlook and determined spirit hid how sick he was. Once he arrived at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, he continued to receive transfusions around the clock, and unfortunately, the doctors decided that the clinical trial would be more toxic than helpful to his illness. Another blow, this time not physical like the chemo, but emotionally wounding.
Due to his decline in health, he had to board a medical flight back to California, where he once again was admitted to Lucille Packard Children’s Hospital. There was another visit to the ICU due to low blood pressure and high fevers. His cancer was wreaking havoc on his body and slowly infiltrating his spleen. Cristian was in a lot of pain and discomfort. At this point, we were managing his symptoms as every drug that was possible was given to Cristian already. We were buying time. Buying time to extend every day of his 15 years of life, hoping we can make it to 16 years. But his body endured so much, and his organs could not keep up. On September 16, Cristian took one deep gasp of oxygen from his oxygen mask, and his spirit passed from his leukemia-filled body to an eternal rest.
There are no words to describe watching a child go from a playful and youthful existence to complete silence. From laughing and joking around to not being able to speak a word. From gleefully watching his video games to not being able to open his eyes. From gentle hand squeezes to a limp and bony palm. Why is this a reality? Children represent life, not death. Cristian was a child who wanted to live. He was afraid of dying. Though Cristian is not physically here with us on this earth, his spirit is still very present. It is his spirit that motivates us to want to find a cure for AML and support Blood Cancer United’s mission.
Cristian
acute myeloid leukemia (AML)
