Thirteen years ago, my cousin brought me and our family into the The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS) world. Her friend's dad had lost his battle, and I had just begun mine. In November 2011, I was told I had acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL). After being immediately hospitalized, poked, and prodded, I started on a clinical trial following a pediatric protocol with adult doses. It worked! By March 16, 2012, I could say I was in remission. Life was great! No more nausea, vomiting, and general crap feeling. No more pulmonary embolisms from one of the treatments. But what I had gained from it all was some amazing friends — doctors who cared for me and nurses who not only healed my ailments but kept my heart in check as well. And we got more involved in LLS, specifically Scenic Shore 150.
In the summer of 2012, we came out with a vengeance! Team Burdens Gone had some new life — my cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends joined me as they rode and I cheered them on. I was on Cloud 9. Not only was I in remission, but I was doing something healthy and happy that benefited people like me so that more people could come out on the other side of the crap! As the years passed with me continuing in remission, I had Jen from LLS do a little digging for me, and we found out that LLS had donated to research that was used in my clinical trial! What an incredible full-circle moment!
Our Burdens Gone family continues to ride year after year, raising money for patient support and blood cancer research. Whenever someone mentions LLS or Scenic Shore, though, I don't think about the number the bike ride does on my butt or how we actually make it through that 150 miles. I don't even think about the crap I went through with my treatment. I think about the people I get to see — LLS friends who work tirelessly to put on this event because they know just how important that research and patient support is. I think of the doctors, researchers, nurses, and staff who work incredibly hard to take care of us and work for new treatments. They constantly work to figure out how to make patients comfortable through the entire process. I think of my family flanking me, riding into the winds of life, breathing it all in, and feeling the true feeling of just being alive. I think of my friend Paul, who I met the first year. He chatted with me at rest stops since I couldn't ride due to still being on some chemo drugs. He told me his story, and it's a roller coaster of a ride, but he introduced me to a new word, THRIVER. We are thrivers, not just survivors. We aren't just sitting back watching life blow past us. We are going out and seizing the day, advocating for more research, more new treatments, and more people to become thrivers like us. I've held onto that since that first day I met Paul.
Fast forward to 2024 when our worlds outside of SS150 collide. After being in remission for so long, a blood test revealed that my ALL had returned. Shock, denial, deep sadness . . . it's all I could feel. Having to go through the process again was not something I had planned, but the universe had a different idea. I started treatment right away, and in the end, I needed a stem cell transplant. Paul needed one, too, a few months before mine. Paul has had some experience with those, and he was there for me the entire process. We'd see each other at the clinic. We were admitted to the hospital at the same time (him for his transplant and me for complications from my chemo), and together we continue to fight during this important time after our transplants. I got my stem cell transplant on January 10, 2025, and am actually getting discharged today. To be with the people I love and to THRIVE, just as Paul would want me to. I know he is too. That's the amazing thing about this LLS family, everyone is going through so much crap, but we just come together, lift each other up or lean on each other when we need to, and we move forward toward a cure.
Jess
acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL)
