Because childhood should be measured in memories, not blood counts
Hi everyone, it’s Maya. I’m 13 years old, and I’ve been fighting neuroblastoma since I was nearly 4. That’s almost my whole childhood spent dealing with something no child should ever have to go through.
Most kids my age worry about homework, what to wear, seeing their friends, or what they’re going to do at the weekend. Me? Sometimes, I’m waiting to find out if my blood counts are high enough to do those same things. When you have cancer, your life can end up revolving around numbers. Haemoglobin, white blood cells, neutrophils and platelets. Numbers that decide whether you can have chemotherapy, whether you need a blood transfusion, whether you can go to school, or whether you end up back in hospital instead. Mummy and Daddy have learnt not to get too excited about plans until we know what my blood results look like. Because one blood test can change everything. Recently, I was enjoying a little bit of normal life. School, shopping, Lego, Hobbycraft, eating out with my family, carving pumpkins and enjoying the half-term break. Just ordinary things that might not seem like much to other people, but mean EVERYTHING to us. And then, suddenly, I needed another urgent blood transfusion because my haemoglobin had dropped again. One minute, we’re carving pumpkins. The next, we’re back in hospital. That’s the thing about childhood cancer. It doesn’t always announce itself with a big dramatic moment. Sometimes, it quietly steals the little things. The plans you were looking forward to. The afternoons you wanted to spend with friends. The freedom to just wake up and see what the day brings. I’ve already been through so much in my little life. Years of treatments, relapses, hospital admissions and more than five months in hospital after my CAR-T treatment, which left me with a brain injury and so much to work hard to regain. But I’m still here. Still finding reasons to smile. Still singing my songs, enjoying my favourite things, making memories with my family and showing everyone that there’s much more to me than cancer. I still have my sense of humour, too. Cancer might have put me through a lot, but it hasn’t managed to take away my cheeky side! And that’s what I want people to remember. I’m not just a cancer patient. I’m Maya. I’m a daughter, a friend, a music lover, a puzzle queen and a girl who wants to enjoy being 13. I don’t expect every day to be perfect. I know my journey is complicated, and there are still difficult days ahead. But I want to fill the days I have with as many happy memories as possible. I want to go to school, laugh with people I love, sing until everyone tells me to give it a rest, hah hah hah, enjoy family days out and make memories that have nothing to do with hospitals. And to everyone who continues to stand by me and my family, thank you. Every message, donation, fundraiser, thoughtful gift and act of kindness means more than you could ever know. You help us keep finding little pockets of happiness in a life that always feel very unfair. So, if you know a child fighting cancer, please remember that it’s not only the big battles that matter. It’s the birthday parties they miss, the plans that get cancelled, the school days they can’t attend and the ordinary moments they wish they could have. Because childhood should be measured in memories, not blood counts. And sometimes, my biggest wish isn’t anything extraordinary.
It’s just one ordinary day, being a normal 13-year-old girl, without cancer deciding what happens next.
Love,
Maya xx
From Maya’s Mum: thank you all if you have read this far.
PayPal as a gift to
Reference: Maya’s Journey
Bank transfer to Santander
D C Nash
Sort code 09-01-36
Account 49579984
Reference: Maya’s Journey
Santander sometimes decline transfer so:
Bank transfer to Lloyds Bank:
Mrs Dellanie Nash
Sort code 30-93-34
Account 40263960
Reference: Maya’s Journey
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