Ashby's Fight Against Cancer
Donation protected
In October of 2014, I recieved the amazing news that I had finally become pregnant! It was a rather difficult goal to accomplish, as I had been diagnosed with having PCOS. My husband and I were beyond thrilled, as were my family. After battling horrible depression, I felt as if things were starting to look up. However, throughout the entire pregnancy I was constantly sick. I had constantly begged my doctors for help, which they continuously told me it was constipation and/or pregnancy symptoms. They told me I did not have anything to worry about, as every woman had gone through it at some point in their pregnancy. Skip ahead a few more months and I was hit with a gallbladder attack. This happened on May 17, 2015.
I called the L&D department of AMC and begged them to see me. I did not know what was happening, all I knew was that I was in great pain and I could do nothing but scream and cry. My husband had been at work that day, and I had to call him and make him come home to be with me and take me to the ER. He rushed home and quickly took me to the hospital. I was moved to L&D within minutes and I was quickly cared for. They checked me to see if I was in labor, which I was not. They decided to keep me that night and give me lots of fluids so they could get an ultrasound of my gallbladder the next morning. I did not get any sleep that night. I was worried sick over my unborn child.
That morning I was taken to the radiology section of the hospital and I was in the process of getting the ultrasound. They had found gallstones in my gallbladder, which I had already assumed I had after finding out I had a gallbladder attack the day before. This was not the only thing they had found. There had been lesions on my liver as well. I was taken back to my room, where my doctor, Dr. Brooks, told me about the finding. He said that they were concerned about my liver, as the lesions were possibly malignant tumors. He told me that I was to get induced to get the baby out, which was perfectly fine by me. I was 39 weeks by that time. I was ready for her to come out. But at the time, I didn't fully understand what was going on. Dr. Brooks said it was probably for the best that I be transferred to UVA, as they had better tools to help me than AMC had. I agreed to it and to UVA I went.
As soon as I got there I was induced. Over 30 hours of labor, I had finally had my baby girl. I had never been so happy or proud in my life over something I and my husband, Will, had created. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I had fallen in deep love with her as soon as I heard her first cry. At that very moment, I knew that my life had more meaning than ever before. I had to be positive, be stronger than ever, and live for not only my husband, but for my precious baby girl.
After a brief resting period, my husband, my daughter, and myself were moved to a different room, the postpartum section of the delivery ward. It was there, as soon as my baby was placed within my arms once again to be loved and protected, that I was informed that the lesions in my liver looked to be as if they were cancer. My heart sunk. I could do nothing but look at my baby, Melody, and hope that the assumption was just that, an assumption. It was so hard to keep my feelings to myself that day, as I had many visitors come in and share the happiness of the birth of my child. I felt completely hopeless, as if I could do nothing but force myself to not believe what was told to me. That night, I had my first scan done, a MRI. Then, I had a CAT scan done earlier the next day.
After these scans, I was told once again by a nurse, that I did infact have cancer, but they were suspecting it was colon cancer that had metastasized to my liver. This meant I had Stage IV cancer. I was scared to death, but still refused to believe what I was hearing until I had more proof. That night I was taken for yet another test, to get a liver biopsy. Soon afterwards, my fear had become a reality. It was confirmed that I had cancer.
Usually, colon cancer is a very slow growing cancer. However, since I was pregnant and my immune system had dropped for protection of my baby, it spread quickly.
Nurses had spent the next week of my stay at the hospital pitying me, reminding me of the fact I had cancer and that I probably did not have long to live at all. I fell into a deep depression once again. It was hard for me to even look at my husband or my daughter, since I thought I would not live long enough to spend any time with them. A nurse told me the longest I had was 26 months. My daughter would be two years of age before I left the world to leave her, just like my mom left me when I was twenty. I felt like I lost all hope, though I refused to cry about it. I was just angry with myself. I shared the news with my family and I hated myself even more when I heard their tears. I hated every single moment of it. I could not be happy during my happiest moment. It was selfishly taken away from me by a curveball life had to throw.
It wasn't until another doctor came to me to talk to me. I told him everything that I knew, how I was treated, and how people told me I was not going to make it. He stopped me. He told me that I did have a chance, that I had a fighting chance, a good chance, of defeating this. He told me that the nurses and doctors usually go with old data involving cancer, rather than the new. Usually when someone is diagnosed with having stage III or even IV, they had just received a death sentence. Though now-a-days, this is wrong. There are more and more survivors of 'advanced' cancer than ever. Treatments are improving rather quickly, as is the life expectancy of those diagnosed. A lot of those who fought these type of cancers had never had them again! I was so relieved that I couldn't do anything but laugh. And it was then that I decided that no one could really tell me how long I had or how much of a chance I had, but me.
That night, Will and myself did research about the best hospitals for cancer treatments. We did research on the type of cancer I had, which is very common in America. We found that John Hopkins and MD Anderson were the best choices for the cancer I had. We had also found that people that went to these hospitals with worse of a case than I had, had survived and never been met with cancer again. Some cases were over 15 years old. I was amazed and relieved. The very next day I called them both and set up appointments to have a second and possibly third opinion. John Hopkins was the first to respond to me and I spent about a week talking to them and sending them all my information and test results that UVA had gotten for me. And then, with the help of both my husband and family, I made my decision on my treatment.
I am to get my chemo treatment at UVA, since the protocol for colon cancer in all hospitals are practically the same. Then, since John Hopkins is more advanced in the surgery of the colon and liver than UVA is, I am to go there for the surgery, which could be within the next 2-3 months. I begin my first round of chemo on Friday, June 26, 2015.
I will beat this. I will destroy it. I will not allow something to take away my happiness or take me away for two people that need me more than ever - my daughter and husband. They are my world and I refuse to leave it. I have a great chance of defeating this, and I will. The birth of my daughter is the happiest I have ever been for a long time. I refuse to give that up. So please, help me, rather it be by donating (nothing is too little!) to help pay for medical bills, or keeping me and my family in your thoughts and prayers. I believe in strength in numbers and I want to be stronger than ever.
I called the L&D department of AMC and begged them to see me. I did not know what was happening, all I knew was that I was in great pain and I could do nothing but scream and cry. My husband had been at work that day, and I had to call him and make him come home to be with me and take me to the ER. He rushed home and quickly took me to the hospital. I was moved to L&D within minutes and I was quickly cared for. They checked me to see if I was in labor, which I was not. They decided to keep me that night and give me lots of fluids so they could get an ultrasound of my gallbladder the next morning. I did not get any sleep that night. I was worried sick over my unborn child.
That morning I was taken to the radiology section of the hospital and I was in the process of getting the ultrasound. They had found gallstones in my gallbladder, which I had already assumed I had after finding out I had a gallbladder attack the day before. This was not the only thing they had found. There had been lesions on my liver as well. I was taken back to my room, where my doctor, Dr. Brooks, told me about the finding. He said that they were concerned about my liver, as the lesions were possibly malignant tumors. He told me that I was to get induced to get the baby out, which was perfectly fine by me. I was 39 weeks by that time. I was ready for her to come out. But at the time, I didn't fully understand what was going on. Dr. Brooks said it was probably for the best that I be transferred to UVA, as they had better tools to help me than AMC had. I agreed to it and to UVA I went.
As soon as I got there I was induced. Over 30 hours of labor, I had finally had my baby girl. I had never been so happy or proud in my life over something I and my husband, Will, had created. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I had fallen in deep love with her as soon as I heard her first cry. At that very moment, I knew that my life had more meaning than ever before. I had to be positive, be stronger than ever, and live for not only my husband, but for my precious baby girl.
After a brief resting period, my husband, my daughter, and myself were moved to a different room, the postpartum section of the delivery ward. It was there, as soon as my baby was placed within my arms once again to be loved and protected, that I was informed that the lesions in my liver looked to be as if they were cancer. My heart sunk. I could do nothing but look at my baby, Melody, and hope that the assumption was just that, an assumption. It was so hard to keep my feelings to myself that day, as I had many visitors come in and share the happiness of the birth of my child. I felt completely hopeless, as if I could do nothing but force myself to not believe what was told to me. That night, I had my first scan done, a MRI. Then, I had a CAT scan done earlier the next day.
After these scans, I was told once again by a nurse, that I did infact have cancer, but they were suspecting it was colon cancer that had metastasized to my liver. This meant I had Stage IV cancer. I was scared to death, but still refused to believe what I was hearing until I had more proof. That night I was taken for yet another test, to get a liver biopsy. Soon afterwards, my fear had become a reality. It was confirmed that I had cancer.
Usually, colon cancer is a very slow growing cancer. However, since I was pregnant and my immune system had dropped for protection of my baby, it spread quickly.
Nurses had spent the next week of my stay at the hospital pitying me, reminding me of the fact I had cancer and that I probably did not have long to live at all. I fell into a deep depression once again. It was hard for me to even look at my husband or my daughter, since I thought I would not live long enough to spend any time with them. A nurse told me the longest I had was 26 months. My daughter would be two years of age before I left the world to leave her, just like my mom left me when I was twenty. I felt like I lost all hope, though I refused to cry about it. I was just angry with myself. I shared the news with my family and I hated myself even more when I heard their tears. I hated every single moment of it. I could not be happy during my happiest moment. It was selfishly taken away from me by a curveball life had to throw.
It wasn't until another doctor came to me to talk to me. I told him everything that I knew, how I was treated, and how people told me I was not going to make it. He stopped me. He told me that I did have a chance, that I had a fighting chance, a good chance, of defeating this. He told me that the nurses and doctors usually go with old data involving cancer, rather than the new. Usually when someone is diagnosed with having stage III or even IV, they had just received a death sentence. Though now-a-days, this is wrong. There are more and more survivors of 'advanced' cancer than ever. Treatments are improving rather quickly, as is the life expectancy of those diagnosed. A lot of those who fought these type of cancers had never had them again! I was so relieved that I couldn't do anything but laugh. And it was then that I decided that no one could really tell me how long I had or how much of a chance I had, but me.
That night, Will and myself did research about the best hospitals for cancer treatments. We did research on the type of cancer I had, which is very common in America. We found that John Hopkins and MD Anderson were the best choices for the cancer I had. We had also found that people that went to these hospitals with worse of a case than I had, had survived and never been met with cancer again. Some cases were over 15 years old. I was amazed and relieved. The very next day I called them both and set up appointments to have a second and possibly third opinion. John Hopkins was the first to respond to me and I spent about a week talking to them and sending them all my information and test results that UVA had gotten for me. And then, with the help of both my husband and family, I made my decision on my treatment.
I am to get my chemo treatment at UVA, since the protocol for colon cancer in all hospitals are practically the same. Then, since John Hopkins is more advanced in the surgery of the colon and liver than UVA is, I am to go there for the surgery, which could be within the next 2-3 months. I begin my first round of chemo on Friday, June 26, 2015.
I will beat this. I will destroy it. I will not allow something to take away my happiness or take me away for two people that need me more than ever - my daughter and husband. They are my world and I refuse to leave it. I have a great chance of defeating this, and I will. The birth of my daughter is the happiest I have ever been for a long time. I refuse to give that up. So please, help me, rather it be by donating (nothing is too little!) to help pay for medical bills, or keeping me and my family in your thoughts and prayers. I believe in strength in numbers and I want to be stronger than ever.
Organizer and beneficiary
Ashby Clark-Bush
Organizer
Staunton, VA
William Bush
Beneficiary