My name is Ryan, and I’m 20 years old. I was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL) on October 10, 2024, five months before my 20th birthday. The news came only a week after we laid my grandmother to rest following her battle with cervical cancer. At the time, I was a sophomore in college, playing football as a nose guard, and I was preparing to send my film to colleges in hopes of transferring as a student-athlete. A few months before my diagnosis, during the first week of practice-known as “hell week,” temperatures soared to 107 degrees. I became severely dehydrated, nearly passed out, and my parents took me to the hospital. I was admitted for three days, diagnosed with rhabdomyolysis, and given 10 bags of fluids. On October 5th, I was set to play a game but felt dizzy again. My trainer immediately noticed something was wrong and wouldn’t let me play, suspecting rhabdomyolysis had returned. He insisted I get bloodwork done before stepping back on the field. Looking back, he saved my life. If I had played that day and gotten injured, who knows what could have happened? That Monday, I called my primary doctor, who ordered the tests, and I had my blood drawn on Wednesday morning. By 6 AM on Thursday, my doctor was calling, and he told us I had leukemia. I was rushed to the ER, where my platelet count was in the single digits, and my white blood cell count had skyrocketed into the 100,000s. I spent 30 hours in the ER before finally being transferred to a larger hospital where my treatment journey began. I’m currently undergoing chemotherapy, CAR-T cell therapy and waiting on a bone marrow transplant.
Ryan’s LifeList:
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Trip to New Orleans to see the Saints play