It began in early June last year. My teenage sister was staying with us, getting ready for work along with my daughter, Emma. When I went into the bathroom, I saw blood in the toilet. I thought it was my sister, but after she refused, Emma quietly admitted, “Mommy, I did that.”
Courtesy of Lauren Ouzts
Worried, I began asking if she had fallen or if anyone had hurt her. She said no to everything. Later that night, as part of our bedtime routine, Emma used the bathroom again and there was more blood, this time with clots. We took her straight to the ER. Doctors diagnosed a severe urinary tract infection and prescribed antibiotics.
By the end of the week, things seemed better. On Friday, we went to a birthday party, and Emma played hard in the bounce house. She seemed fine just a little tired. But Sunday morning, I found her sweaty, cold, and crying in pain. She had a fever, so we rushed back to the ER.
After examining her, the doctor recommended an urgent ultrasound. We drove to another hospital for the scan.
That’s when we first heard the word “mass.” The ER arranged an appointment with specialists, and by Tuesday, we were told Emma had a Wilms tumor on her kidney. Surgery was scheduled for that Friday.
Our small town rallied around us, covering hotel costs so we could stay near the hospital during her operation. Handing her over to the surgical team was gut-wrenching, but she made it through.
Chemo started soon after. At first, she seemed to tolerate it, but every weekend she developed fevers and rashes. Eventually, we discovered she was allergic to her antibiotics, and switching medications helped. In her second month of treatment, her beautiful red curls began falling out. I cried, but she told me, “It’s just hair, Mommy. It will grow back.”
She missed out on many childhood joys swimming, trick-or-treating, even a birthday party but she found happiness in small outings, cuddles, and photo shoots where she felt like a princess.
In December 2018, on her birthday, Emma rang the bell to mark the end of treatment. The celebration was bittersweet; scans had revealed spots on her lungs. They remain stable, but she undergoes monthly scans instead of quarterly.
Today, Emma is in remission. The journey left emotional scars, anxiety and fear still linger but it also revealed her incredible strength. She’s shown us what bravery looks like, in body, mind, and spirit.
Childhood cancer changes everything. It steals time, innocence, and normalcy. But with community support, medical care, and unwavering love, it doesn’t have to steal hope.
