When I was 12 years old, my family and I became introduced to the word ‘leukemia’ and various other diagnostic terms as they were placed on my then 2-year-old sister, Mia. At the time, Mia had a hopeful 85% chance of being cured and living a full, healthy life.
Two years after her diagnosis, and well into the road that we believed to be remission and recovery, we were informed that Mia had relapsed, and further treatment now involved a bone marrow transplant that I was first in line to be tested as match for. To my family’s joy, I came back a 100% match, and in 2011, I happily donated my bone marrow to Mia in the hopes that she could still beat the odds that went against us.
One can imagine our devastation when she relapsed yet again. We were
Two years after her diagnosis, and well into the road that we believed to be remission and recovery, we were informed that Mia had relapsed, and further treatment now involved a bone marrow transplant that I was first in line to be tested as match for. To my family’s joy, I came back a 100% match, and in 2011, I happily donated my bone marrow to Mia in the hopes that she could still beat the odds that went against us.
One can imagine our devastation when she relapsed yet again. We were