When Gabriel was just four years old, in 2016, his mom, Rachel, noticed an unusual discolored lump on his body during bathtime. Gabe didn’t know how it came to be so Rachel contacted his pre-school and father to ask if he had hurt himself at any point. No one had seen Gabe get injured or remembered him crying. Rachel asked Gabe’s father to take him to the hospital while Gabe was visiting him that weekend. The doctor examined Gabe and determined that it was probably just a hematoma (a bruise with swelling) and that he must have injured himself while playing. This nonchalant response felt odd to Rachel, because what four-year-old kid with a bruise of that magnitude wouldn’t end up crying to an adult at the point of impact.
Tragically, this lump was soon pushed out of Rachel’s mind with the sudden unexpected passing of her dad, who she was very close to. Understandably, she became preoccupied with the grief of that loss and since the doctor said it was just a bruise, it quickly took a back seat to more pressing issues.
A few weeks went by and Rachel realized that the lump was still there, and it was now significantly larger. Knowing that bruises shouldn’t increase in size weeks after an injury, she contacted Gabe’s pediatrician for a second opinion. Gabe’s doctor was also visibly concerned at the appointment, and decided to call the hospital to have him seen immediately.
Waiting alone in the examination room with Gabe, Rachel felt anxious and scared, while Gabe played like a normal, now 5-year-old little boy, unaware of the seriousness of the situation. The doctors at the hospital felt that perhaps the lump was a hernia, and dismissed the pediatricians urgency. They told her they would call Rachel to schedule an appointment.
At home, Rachel waited a week with no call. She had to ask her pediatrician to call again. Finally an appointment was made for a hernia consult with a pediatric surgeon. They were absolutely certain, based on the location, it must be an inguinal hernia.
On the day of the appointment, Rachel anxiously drove into Worcester to UMass Children’s Medical Center. She was a nervous wreck when she arrived. Once in the room, they waited a long while for the surgeon who had been caught up with another difficult procedure that morning.
When the surgeon finally arrived, he took a quick look at the mysterious lump and then went silent. “I don’t think this is a hernia,” he said. He turned to his assistant and told him to order an ultrasound immediately.
The ultrasound tech seemed exhausted and frustrated as the doctors had convinced her to stay open a little later to fit Gabe in. As she moved her wand around the mysterious lump, she began to soften. She started asking Gabe questions and telling him how awesome he was doing.
Rachel expressed to us, “My gut began to sink. The technician’s demeanor changed so much that I realized at that moment something must be really wrong with my son.”
The technician told Rachel she would need to speak to the radiologist and stepped out of the room. Then she came in to take a few more images and left again. The next time she came in, she said that the radiologist would be in to speak with them soon. Rachel understood at that point that something wasn’t right, maybe terribly wrong.
After a long while waiting, the pediatric surgeon and his partner arrived through a different door. The surgeon pulled up a chair and sat down eye level to speak to Rachel (another foreboding sign of what was to come).
He told Rachel calmly that there is a tumor-like growth and that he will be putting in a referral to oncology. He claimed it could still be benign, but in Rachel’s gut (and probably in the doctor’s too), she sensed it was likely not.
The next week or two were a blur. They met with an oncology team and began some further tests. Finally the oncologist and surgeon decide the best plan was to remove the tumor and run a biopsy.
On an early Wednesday morning Gabe went in for his first surgery.
“After they wheeled him away, I went to sit outside. At this point, the worry and grief and pain washed over me and I just broke down into tears. I hated being away from him in this situation.” Rachel shared.
For Rachel, time felt as though it was moving exceedingly slow. Finally, the surgeon came out to report that all went well and that they could go see their son soon. In the recovery room with Gabe, the medical team arrived and told them they would hear from them by Friday. They used the cliché phrase, “No news is good news.”
Friday came and went and Rachel remembered the doctor’s words that no news was good news. She held out hope but deep down she was struggling. Her mother’s intuition was indisputable. Monday morning arrived and Gabe went off to school–he was in pre-K at the time. Rachel went through her morning routine–got ready for work and then went for breakfast at Dunkin. While picking up her coffee, she received a call from the hospital to schedule a bone scan. Confused, she asked why she hasn’t heard the results of the biopsy. The scheduler apologized and said she did not have that information.
Not long after, at work now, Rachel’s cell phone rang. The doctor was on the line to discuss the biopsy. Next came the dreaded word everyone fears most… It was CANCER. At that moment, Rachel just sunk into a chair and tears began to pour. He continued to talk but she could not hear or understand a word he was saying.
“That awful C word just kept buzzing in my ear. MY son had cancer. MY sweet, full of life and love, little boy. This can’t be happening. This is stuff for sad commercials and movies. This type of stuff doesn’t happen to people we know.”
Rachel’s boss told her she should go home, but at home Rachel could not sit still. Despite, or maybe because of her growing anxiety, she decided to go run errands. She didn’t know how to fix cancer but at least she could put some groceries in the fridge and check things off of her to do list. Walking through the store, she was in a total daze. She looked at each person just going about their normal lives and almost screamed. How could they go about their day when her whole world was crumbling. As she went through the motions at check out, it’s almost as if she was hovering over her body. Everything felt surreal, like a really bad dream.
After Gabe was officially diagnosed with Ewing’s Sarcoma in May of 2016, the treatment process began almost immediately. He went through 14 rounds of high dose chemotherapy administered over approximately 5-6 months. He had to receive 6 weeks of daily radiation. He had numerous blood transfusions. Hundreds of blood draws and injections. They were in the hospital significantly more than they were home. Chemo would often tank his blood counts so even when he would be allowed to be home, it never lasted long before they were once again in the hospital. At one point, he developed hemorrhagic cystitis in his bladder causing him to pee blood clots. He later had a bout of pneumonia that landed him in pediatric ICU and numerous fevers set him back in between treatments. Finally, on New Year’s Eve of 2016, Gabe received his final dose of chemotherapy.
During Gabe’s treatment, Rachel’s other two children bounced from family members’ to friends’ houses. She missed them dearly but needed to be with Gabe. Being a single mom at the time, it felt like their family was being torn apart. There were numerous late nights, trips to the ER, moments of guilt as there wasn’t enough of Rachel to go around. Childhood cancer affects the entire family. Gabe’s twin sister, Lily, was suddenly not able to see him much and she watched him being traumatized by medical procedures constantly.
Rachel will never forget the time she had to take Lily to the hospital with us for a few hours until a sitter could be available. She observed the doctors needing to hold Gabe down to access his port. She was in the corner cowering and trying to get Rachel to hold her. Why were the doctors hurting her twin brother like that?
Gabe got through his treatment thanks to his favorite superheroes: Captain America, Paw Patrol, Spiderman, and Marvel characters. He was comforted by cuddling with his mom and his favorite blanket. He loved the hospital nurses, visitors, and volunteers. And he proved to everyone how strong he really was when he often went to kindergarten after his morning radiation session despite Rachel reminding him it was ok to go home and rest.
Today, Gabriel is 13 years old and cancer free. He is considered a cancer survivor because he has not had a recurrence in over five years. Gabe’s personality blossomed through his journey and as a 13 year old, he is gregarious, playful, and thoughtful. He and his two sisters, Lily and Haylie, are all good students, kind to others, and fun to be around.
Rachel and her family found so much strength through this experience. She learned who her true friends are, and met so many new, amazing souls that have also been impacted by childhood cancer. They found support with organizations like Why Me/Sherry’s House Worcester, MA, Hole in the Wall Gang Camp Hospital Outreach Program, Boston Children’s Hospital Childlife specialists, Cops for Kids with Cancer, Make a Wish Foundation, and Rett’s Roost.
“My son’s cancer was a blessing and a curse. We have so much good in our lives now because of all we went through. Childhood cancer shouldn’t be happening but it’s becoming more frequent. We have to put politics aside and make real changes to save our kids. We are destroying the world and our kids are paying the price.”
In 2020, Rachel met Jared, and in two years they were married. Their family finally felt complete. They all attended the Positively Healing Retreat at Medomak Family Camp in Washington, ME this past summer (2024). We loved meeting this beautiful blended family. Although we never know whether teens will enjoy the retreat experience, these three kids exuded pure gratitude and joy.
Rachel expressed to us what the retreat meant to her and her family:
“I talked freely about our cancer journey, had a massage, meditated, experienced an amazing Reiki session, made friends, laughed, cried, and watched my kids bond with each other and build beautiful friendships. This week in Maine could not have been better!”
