Meet Maggie Hart: acute myeloid leukemia survivor

How did your Cancer Journey Begin? 

I spent most of my early twenties living out of a backpack and solo-traveling around the world while I did freelance copywriting and editing work. After a few months in Europe, I went to India, where I started to feel a little off. I began to notice bruises appearing out of nowhere, but I convinced myself that those came from hauling my backpack through crowded train stations or from the various hikes I did. I'd been so excited to try the amazing Indian street food, but I found that my appetite was fading. I blamed that on the heat and "Delhi Belly," the stomach illness everyone jokingly warned me about when I first arrived in India. Above all, I tried to explain away my immense fatigue by blaming my circumstances: I was traveling alone in India, taking overnight buses and trains, sleeping in unfamiliar beds in dorms shared with strangers, and navigating cities where every day required miles of walking. But I knew, deep down, that what I was feeling wasn't just tiredness. It got to a point where I couldn't even walk for more than a few minutes without needing to rest, when just weeks ago, I'd been scaling mountains and walking for miles without any problem. I decided to fly back to Colorado, where my parents lived, and the doctor I visited immediately sent me to the emergency room, where they tested my blood. After that, it was clear something was very, very wrong. I remember one doctor telling me to "brace myself." My acute myeloid leukemia diagnosis came a few days later.

What did your treatment journey look like?

After my diagnosis, I was transferred to Anschutz Hospital in Aurora, CO. I got a PICC line inserted. I remember the nurse telling me that the PICC line insertion would feel like being stung by a bee, and I thought it was odd that I had never been stung by a bee, but I had gotten cancer. Then, I received the 7+3 chemotherapy regimen. For my first round, I was hospitalized for the entire month, which was the worst part, and then every round after that, I only had to stay in the hospital for a week. It felt like I spent the whole summer in the hospital. I watched the fireworks on the fourth of July explode outside my window in my beige hospital room.

My oncologists weren't sure if I'd need a bone marrow transplant, so both of my siblings got tested. We learned that my brother was a 50% match and my sister was a 100% match, so it felt like a relief to know that there was still a Plan B, even if the chemo didn't work. 

After the chemo, I went in regularly for blood and platelet transfusions. I kept getting nosebleeds, and because my platelets were so low, the blood wouldn't stop. A few times, I pulled out massive, jiggly blood clots from my throat. I got a fever at some point when I was between chemo rounds, so my mom had to take me to the ER. I remember us getting there and feeling like everyone was staring at my bald head.

Luckily, after three rounds of chemo, my oncologist declared me NED (no evidence of disease). I took pictures of myself smiling in a sweatshirt that said "NO MO CHEMO." I was happy that the chemo had worked, and obviously thrilled to be alive, but I also felt like "...now what?" I was planning on starting graduate school in August of the year I was diagnosed, and I'd had to defer until the next fall, so I wasn't really sure what to do with myself, or how careful I had to be.

Is there anything you want to mention regarding mental health and cancer and how you dealt with that?

Having cancer is such a rotten, dehumanizing experience, I think it's impossible to not struggle with mental health as a result of it. I tried to keep up appearances of being strong and courageous for a while, but that fell apart during my month-long hospital stay. All my hair fell out, and then I got C.diff, and I wasn't even allowed to get out of bed without a nurse present, and I didn't go outside for many, many days in a row. I'd spent the last few years being this free, globetrotting, spontaneous person, and it felt like my whole life and my whole personality had been stolen from me. I got very depressed. I wished, at some point, that if I was going to die from cancer, that it would hurry up and do it. 

Luckily, I had an amazing support system, and they helped me a lot. One of my parents was almost always with me in the hospital, as was my boyfriend at the time, and usually one of my siblings. Talking with them helped, although I also felt like they couldn't really understand what I was feeling. I also did a lot of journaling, and while those entries are hard to look back on, I'm so glad I got those feelings out on paper. I've always loved to read, so I read as much as I could, and my boyfriend and I watched Lost, which I think is the perfect show to escape reality with. Ultimately, I think I did my best to balance allowing myself to feel my scary, dark feelings and allowing myself to escape from reality. I said, out loud, "This isn't forever" as soon as I started to feel hopeless. I needed to remind myself that I wouldn't always be a sick, weak, bald person in a hospital. I kept dreaming about the things I would do and see if I got better. 

How did having cancer shift your relationships with friends and family?

My family and I got so much closer throughout this experience. I went to college out of state, and then I traveled, so I hadn't spent so much consecutive time with my parents and my siblings since I was 18 (I was diagnosed at 25). In some ways, it felt like I was getting to know them again, and like they were getting to know me. My mom was a superstar. She helped me flush my PICC line when I was out of the hospital, and she painted my nails when I was in the hospital, and she helped me style my first wig. My sister-in-law is a nurse practitioner, so she was incredible about advocating for me and helping me learn this new medical language. My siblings were (and are) so kind and generous and funny, and I loved getting to spend more time with them. And my dad was steadfast and supportive, even though he was also dealing with his own health issues.

With friends, it was a little more complicated. I had so many incredible people spend time with me in the hospital, which I appreciated so much. I also received a lot of support through social media. However, I also noticed who didn't reach out at all, and who didn't check in. There were some people I considered good friends who I didn't hear from, and I realized they only wanted to be my friend when being my friend was easy. That was really tough. It also felt difficult to see other people my age moving on with their life, while I felt like I was stuck.

Even now, at age 28, sometimes I feel so much older than my peers because I had this insane experience and I had to reckon with my own mortality so soon in life. Sometimes I find it difficult to connect with people.

What advice or tips do you have for others facing similar circumstances?

Above all, be kind to yourself, and know that there is no "right" or "wrong" way to feel. I remember feeling so silly that I was so devastated by having to lose my hair when there was a good possibility I'd lose my life, but hey, being a bald, twenty-five year old woman was not what I envisioned for myself, and that was hard! It's okay to grieve what you lose, and it's okay to grieve the life you had. It's also okay to be scared. I think I'll be scared for the rest of my life.

Give yourself time to think about what you want your life to look like and feel like. Your priorities may shift.

Also, ask a lot of questions. There's often a lot of urgency surrounding cancer diagnosis and treatment, and understandably so, but you have a right to know what is happening to your body. If you don't know what a word means, ask. This is your life; your health is yours.