September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month and I want to share with you what it’s like to be in my shoes as a mother of a child with cancer. But I warn you: These shoes are neither comfortable nor pretty – they are painful and cause fear and overwhelming anxiety.
I will try to give you a glimpse into the journey my son Te’von and our family have been on over the past year, while hoping and praying that you never have to be in my shoes.
It began in July 2023. My strong, athletic teenage son was suffering from recurring knee pain that was not relieved by home remedies or medication. With each passing day, the worry grew. Te’von had to go to doctor’s appointments, X-rays, MRIs, and finally a biopsy. He had to endure all the familiar tests and procedures that children go through before the doctors invite the parents into a small, cold room and give them the terrifying diagnosis: “Your child has cancer.”
I searched for words to express the panic that initially paralyzed me when I heard my son had osteosarcoma. But those words simply don’t exist. When I looked into the big brown eyes of my beautiful boy and knew the suffering he was about to face – the surgeries, the toxic chemotherapy, the nausea, and too many other side effects to mention – I fell to my knees.
But my husband, Te’von Sr., and I found strength and comfort on our knees in prayer. We held hands and hugged our son as we told him the diagnosis and treatment plan. He had two questions. “Will I lose my hair? And will I lose my leg?”
I will never forget what my son said to me the night before his first chemotherapy treatment: “I just celebrated my 16th birthday and now I have to fight for my life.”
Te’von spent three days in the hospital and received the first round of chemotherapy through a port in his heart. He was so sick, suffering from nausea, mouth ulcers and unfamiliar pain. This horrific cycle lasted nine months. Chemotherapy is like a heavyweight boxing match. Te’von was relentlessly beaten and (sometimes) knocked down.
Once you reach the 10th, 11th and 12th rounds, like a boxer, it becomes increasingly difficult to get back up and continue the fight.
Te’von’s chemotherapy was postponed three times to give him more time to regain his strength. The finish line seemed to be getting further and further away. But each time Te’von passed the “bell” that signals the end of treatment, he shouted, “We’re coming to get you!”
Over the past year, my husband and I have spent more time in hospital rooms than at home as we simultaneously cared for Te’von and his 11-year-old sister, Tatum.
Our monthly budget was quickly eaten up by hundreds of gallons of gas and car maintenance costs as we commuted to and from the hospital. We worried about how we would pay the rising insurance deductibles for the skyrocketing medical bills and meet our daily financial obligations.
We needed help. But when you’re used to being the helper, it’s so hard to seek (and accept) help yourself.
Like most families with a seriously ill child, we couldn’t do it alone. The Tom Coughlin Jay Fund provided my family with the unique financial and emotional support they needed to help us through the most difficult year of our lives.
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In May, we experienced new hope and joy as Te’von completed his 18th and final round of chemotherapy, eagerly ringing the bell and ending his chemotherapy ordeal. Tears flowed as Te’von’s favorite R&B gospel song, “Love Like That” by Hulvey, played, filling our souls with its pure message to love well, as God has loved us.
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I am eternally grateful to everyone who has loved our family during this time and encourage anyone who knows a family battling childhood cancer to reach out and help in any way they can. If you don’t know a family that needs help, support organizations like the Jay Fund that help local families battling childhood cancer.
Walking in these shoes is not easy, but a strong support system allows you to keep moving forward.
Andrea Berry, Orange Park
This guest column reflects the opinion of the author and does not necessarily reflect the views of the Times-Union. We welcome diversity of opinion.
