‘I can handle it and I’m going to change this world’
A five minute drive away, Lindale graduate Riley Marshall waited for the caravan to pass her by with her family and her unwelcome guest of five years, whom she’d named Rodger.
She’d rather call it Rodger than what is: an astrocytoma inoperable brain tumor.
Riley has fought Rodger, which is lodged between her pituitary gland and optic nerve and was diagnosed within two hours back on Aug. 25, 2015, since she was 9 years old. And yet, this year has proven the most difficult, between keeping up with classes from her chronic migraines and the pandemic.
Her mother Dawn worked at Giant until a few months ago, back when the pandemic first arose into relevancy in the state, Riley came down with a fever.
It wasn’t coronavirus-related. But it was enough of a scare for Dawn, who knew, as an essential worker, she could bring the virus home to her immunocompromised daughter any day.
Because she wasn’t technically laid off, Dawn struggled to attain unemployment until two weeks ago. Her husband was still able to work, but their income was slashed.
“The bills don’t stop. But I needed to make sure she was taken care of first,” Dawn said. “I’m still worried because [coronavirus is] still not gone, but my time’s up. I have to go back to work because I have to keep my medical insurance for her.”
In five years, Riley and her mother have never missed a blood draw, doctor’s appointment, or anything of the like. Most kids, Dawn said, go through four chemotherapy cycles in a year; Riley, an active bowler and former dancer, did seven in 2015-16. They didn’t think she’d lose her hair, but she did, around the fifth cycle.
Recently, Riley went in for her 19th MRI. She’s used to them.
“When they ask me if I need to be sedated, it’s an insult now,” Riley said.
She never has been sedated.
“I’m in awe of her,” Dawn said. “She got this diagnosis, and you think when will she say, ‘Why me, why me?’ She never did say that. She said, ‘I know why God picked me. He knows I’m strong and I’m a fighter and I can handle it and I’m going to change this world.’ That’s what she said in the hospital.”
Not every day is that bravery so willful. It often comes in the form of dealing with a migraine or headache that will last days, or months. Sometimes, it’s taking her pills, prescribed to her indefinitely, when she doesn’t want to. Some, it’s just struggling through the online version of math class.
Riley had been taking a harder class, algebra, but this year, her chronic migraines made keeping up with her studies impossible, and she’d transitioned down to regular math, which was hard for mother and daughter. Riley had always treasured her straight-A marks.
Before the pandemic shut school down, her teachers’ accommodation and support boosted Riley along. E-learning itself isn’t so much of a hardship for Riley, who blazes through most of her assignments by Tuesday. But not math.
“I don’t have that person to meet with me and explain things to me like they’d normally be able to,” Riley said. “Now, we just get a video explaining it to us, versus our teacher explaining it to us with hands-on tools. I’m a visual learner. We don’t have any of that in our house. The video would say ‘use these tools,’ and I don’t have any of that.”
Thursday’s parade served as a chance to break the chain of hardships just for a moment. Rodger, or the tumor, is also in remission, having shrunken. The family hope it stays that way.
“It’s nice to finally see her get recognition for what she goes through every day — headaches, migraines, sometimes lasting months, days, constantly hanging out in the ER, getting medicine. So it really touches our hearts,” Dawn said.