Finding Hope: How a mother and daughter grew stronger together during a battle with childhood cancer
Hollie Papist has the word “hope” tattooed on her foot. It is a mark of grit, determination, pain and suffering. It also reflects deep bonds of family and friendship, and is indicative of love and loss. Diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia (AML) on her 19th birthday, Papist is a childhood cancer survivor.
“I just wanted my future,” Papist, an employment services advisor with Michigan Works, says of the experience.
Bonnie Walker, Papist’s mother, helped her daughter through the two-year journey, while burdened with the grief that comes from watching her child suffer.
“It was a nightmare,” says Walker, an HR assistant in Gratiot-Isabella Regional Education Service District. “Hollie had to be such a fighter,”
Life Interrupted
Papist was living the life of a teenager. School, athletics, a part-time job at a grocery store. That changed in June 2005.
“I was just so tired and sleeping all the time,” she recalls. “I slept on breaks. I slept when I got home until the next shift.”
Appetite loss accompanied Papist’s chronic exhaustion and she lost 30 pounds in one month. The day before her birthday, her throat swelled to the point where she could neither eat nor drink, and she was admitted to MidMichigan Medical Center. There, oncologist Dr. Diane MacDonald requested a bone marrow biopsy. Papist endured having a needle pushed into her hip bone for a sample of marrow without anesthesia, numbing or pain medication because her throat issue was undiagnosed.
“She was tough, but it was awful,” Walker says. “I was in the room with Hollie. For every biopsy, I insisted I be in the room with her.
“They held her down and family could hear her screaming and crying while they were in the hallway. I’ll never forget that.”
It turned out the swelling was due to a yeast infection. Papist’s weakened immune system was unable to fend off even the most innocuous of infections. The biopsy revealed AML.
The Journey Begins
Immediately following the diagnosis, Papist was moved to Sparrow Children’s Center.
“My doctor wanted me in the children’s wing because she said the survival rate was a little better,” Papist explains.
Papist’s treatment plan called for 15 rounds of chemotherapy. After two rounds, her AML went into remission but she still had to complete her chemotherapy. During her treatments, she resided primarily at the hospital. After four months there, she was allowed to go home for a one-week break. Thereafter, she rotated on a schedule of three weeks in the hospital and one week home.
Hospital life was challenging, but Papist stayed on top of her studies — and there were some bright moments. Between water fights and their upbeat attitudes, the nurses provided emotional support and she remains in touch with them to this day. Papist also befriended a 16-year-old boy named Matt, who also had leukemia. They played cards and went for walks.
“Matt knew what I was going through,” she says. “Needles hurt. You throw up all the time. He could relate to all that.”
During the ordeal, Walker stayed with her daughter as much as possible.
“The anxiety and fear builds and builds,” Walker says. “There were plenty of times I cried and just wondered, ‘Why?’”
Just as Papist was ready to go home, she went into life-threatening septic shock. After time in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) and her eventual recovery, she was able to leave the hospital for good.
Relapse
For 15 months, Papist’s AML was in remission. Then in January 2007, it returned. This time, her physician recommended a bone marrow transplant. Matt was getting his transplant in Detroit, and she wanted to be with him for support, she says. In April, Papist was cleared for transplant surgery in Detroit, where she reconnected with her friend.
The transplant was a success — mostly. After a month in the hospital waiting for her white blood cell count to increase, Papist went home in July 2007 with her cancer in remission.
Loss and Love
Today, Papist and Walker demarcate their memories with “before cancer” and “after cancer.” The experience affected their deepest emotions.
Matt died, which was a profound loss for Papist; yet the world also provided kindness. From the Carebridge website to the Vestaburg community, Papist received cards, care packages, movies, snacks, emails and fundraising proceeds.
“People don’t think these small acts make a difference, but they do,” Walker says. “Unless you have experienced cancer, the hospitals, the hurt and the fear, you cannot possibly relate. You just can’t. These acts of support meant everything.”
Today, Papist is living a joy-filled life with her two children whom she and her husband, Stuart, adopted while serving as their foster parents. Their 13-year-old, Lillian, was adopted when she was 11 years old, and their 5-year-old was adopted on her third birthday.
Her name is Hope.