Abby Brockway, a recent college graduate of Providence College (‘24) from Shrewsbury, NJ, has more than just her 23rd birthday to celebrate this month. After nearly a year of intensive treatment for Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML), she recently received life-changing news from her care team at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston: There is no evidence of disease (NED). 

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Her journey was anything but easy. Over 10 intense months, Abby underwent multiple hospitalizations, blood transfusions, and rounds of aggressive chemotherapy. AML, a fast-moving blood cancer that starts in the bone marrow, often reveals itself through symptoms like fatigue and bruising—but Abby showed none. It was her decision to advocate for routine blood work that led to an early diagnosis and ultimately saved her life.

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In this interview, Abby opens up about her shocking diagnosis, the physical and emotional toll of treatment, and the resilience that carried her through it all. As she prepares to begin graduate studies at Boston University, Abby reflects on her journey with raw honesty — sharing her fears, hopes, and hard-won perspective on what it means to truly live.

 

Sarah: What was your initial diagnosis like? How did you receive it?

 

Abby: I always like to say that I saved myself. I was at my pediatrician getting one final yearly physical because I was aging out of the practice. I asked, "Dr. Jordan, can we do blood work just to see that everything's okay?" She responded, "We did it last year, so I think you're fine." And I explained to her, "I just want to make sure that everything's okay." I had already moved up to Boston when the results came in. She called me and said, "I want you to get it rechecked. Something just came back weird." I wasn’t thinking anything of it. I went there, did the tests, and sent them over to her. She called again to say, "I want you to go to the emergency room and get a hematologist to look at it." She didn't throw out any ideas of what it could be, which is probably good, because I feel like I would have spiraled. I ended up going to the hospital, and they ran tests. I was completely asymptomatic. I told them, "I have class later today." One of my friends from PC who moved up here came with me. She was staying with me just to pass the time. Then, one of the doctors came in and said, "We're waiting for one more test result. It could be Lyme disease or it could be leukemia. I thought, "That's different, very different.”

 

Sarah: What was it like hearing the words, "You have cancer," for the first time?

 

Abby: An oncologist from Dana-Farber called and told me I had blasts in my blood, which means early signs of leukemia even though I had no outward symptoms. I guess my first initial feeling was denial, and then after, I thought, "Can we be done with this? Let's just get on with it." Then, once I was in the hospital, I thought, “Okay, this feels real and I hate this.” But, throughout all of this, I've kept my head down and just put my horse blinders on, and thought, “Alright, let's go. Let's do th. I just want to be done.” That's been my mentality throughout all of this –  just keeping to myself because, with all of this, the doctor said that there was a fixed treatment timeline.

 

Sarah: What was your treatment like? 

 

Abby: My treatment consisted of a month in the hospital and then four cycles of the maintenance chemo afterwards. I also did egg banking in between. I don't know if you've ever done it, I was doing fertility shots that 30-year-old women do to get pregnant. And I thought, “This is overwhelming.”

 

Sarah: I was wondering what that was like. I wasn't  able to do it because the clinic told me that I had to wait to start treatment before I could do the egg freezing, and I needed to start treatment the same day that I got my diagnosis. So I didn't do it, but I've heard of it, and I know so many people who have done it. 

 

Abby: During the frequent appointments and ultrasounds, I had to wrap my head around the realization that the people sitting next to me in the waiting room were here for much different reasons than me. They’re here because they’re having a baby and I’m here to protect my future. I was comforted by my oncologist when he told me that the egg banking was just as a precaution and I’d be fine in the future, but it was pretty scary to be making decisions about my future with everything that was going on. Usually, the yield is around two to three eggs. I had 18 eggs. I thought, “I’m such an overachiever.” 

 

Sarah: So, had you already started at BU before you received your diagnosis? 

 

Abby: I had. I moved into my new apartment in Boston on September 1st, and I think I found out September 4th or 5th. My advisor at BU was extremely helpful when I had to fill out the pausing forms. 

 

Sarah: What program is it? 

 

Abby: The formal name for it is TESOL. It’s an acronym for Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages. The program’s approach is teaching English to non-English speakers not through translation but through linguistics and the science of language. 

 

Sarah: And you were an Elementary Ed major at Providence [College]?

 

Abby: Yes, Elementary and Special Ed. At Providence, it's a combined program, so I graduated with a dual degree in both of them.

 

Sarah: How has this diagnosis impacted the plans that you had when you graduated from Providence College? How have these plans changed or shifted?

 

Abby: First of all, I appreciate everything more, and I feel that I'm more of a happy individual because I think, “Why spend the time being mad or upset about something when life's short?” Last year (senior year at PC) was so good. I loved my EDU program, my professors, going to basketball games, attending SRW and Senior Week, and especially living with my 11 best friends. The summer after graduation, I selfishly thought, “Life was so good, it will never be that good again.” And then I get hit with this diagnosis, and it has put everything into perspective of just how grateful I was for last year. I look back at pictures from senior year, and instead of feeling sad that it’s over I’m genuinely grateful that it happened. Now, I don't take things or moments for granted. 

 

Sarah: That's awesome. Sometimes it can be so challenging to maintain a positive mindset. There are always ups and downs, but I love hearing that you’ve been able to pivot your thinking. As for your education and career, everything's pretty much the same, just shifted timewise, right? 

 

Abby: Yeah, I'll start this coming September. 

 

Sarah: Were you upset at the moment having to put your plans on hold to start treatment? 

 

Abby: Totally. I am very driven and passionate when it comes to teaching. After student teaching at PC, I just wanted to start in the field. It was really frustrating in the beginning of my journey to know that it would be another year before I had the opportunity to be a professional teacher. My patience has improved over the past 10 months, which will help me in the future.  

 

Sarah: Wow, you are going to be a wonderful teacher, and you have already worked so hard to get where you are. I’ve felt like a lot of our peers, at least from what I’ve heard from my friends, have felt some level of loneliness and uncertainty after graduation. It’s comforting to know that these emotions are “normal” among 20 something-year-olds, but it’s also challenging to acknowledge that a cancer diagnosis fresh out of undergrad adds an entirely new dimension to these emotions. So, with all of this being said, how have you felt loneliness and uncertainty in your life as someone who occupies these two spaces: “the kingdom of the sick” and young adulthood? 

 

Abby: Seeing your friends start new jobs or grad school really sucks because it reminds you that you’re stuck in limbo. However, I forced myself to remember that I had a job to do the past 10 months. It might have felt like I was doing nothing at that time, but I have grown so much mentally and emotionally. To name some skills: I’ve learned how to advocate for myself, to reframe my thoughts from negative ones to positive ones, and to lean into believing logic rather than the “what ifs?” to keep myself from spiraling. 

 

Sarah: Was there any specific reason you asked your primary care doctor to order blood tests? 

 

Abby: I just wanted to make sure that everything was running the way it should be, and mainly also because I was leaving the practice.

 

Sarah: Do you feel like cancer has brought any good into your life? I know you talked about your perspective, but maybe you could talk about the good in the form of new relationships or any other aspects of your life? 

 

Abby: That's a really good question. My relationships with friends and family have strengthened significantly. Around Christmas time, my mom secretly sent a text to my friends and family asking them to send an ornament for our skinny Target Christmas tree. Every day in December we received packages from my loved ones with cute, inspirational, and sometimes inappropriate ornaments, and I had a blast decorating our tree. The tree became my “Strength Tree.” I’d look at it and remember everyone who loves and thinks about me. As of May, the tree is still up, and I’m not sure when it will come down! 

 

Sarah: Now that you’re in remission, have you thought about life after treatment and what that's going to look like? 

 

Abby: When I first started, I didn't let myself think about survivorship until I got closer to the end of treatment. With every milestone I completed of treatment, I still kept pushing off thinking about the “after” for some reason, until one day I thought, “Why do I keep pushing myself to not think about this. Why can't we think about it and be celebrating every day?”

 

Sarah: Celebrating the small wins. 

 

Abby: Exactly! There was one time when I was at Dana-Farber, and I heard somebody ringing the bell. I didn't even know that there was a bell to ring. My nurse told me that somebody had complained, saying that they wouldn’t be able to ring the bell, so they didn't want to be surrounded by it. Everybody's entitled to their own opinion, but I also think there are little victories every day that are bell-ringing worthy. I rang the bell to conclude maintenance chemo on Friday, when technically I was getting my last infusion on Saturday, but I thought, “Why are we thinking so much about formalities, when every day is a bell-ringing opportunity?” Because I got out of bed, I should ring the bell. Because I took a shower, I should ring the bell. I think that it's tough because there's a stigma surrounding ringing the bell once you’ve survived cancer, but at different stages in the process, there’s an opportunity to celebrate. 

 

Sarah: I love this. I rang the bell after I finished radiation, knowing that I still had cancer and always will. At first I felt strange ringing the bell because I wasn’t celebrating a cure, but I did it and it was exciting to celebrate completing that portion of my treatment and just another day of living. I get why people would be uncomfortable being in front of someone ringing the bell, but, for me, it's exciting to watch people get excited about small victories, especially the few times I’ve watched young children ring the bell. 

 

Sarah: In terms of your fears, do you think they've shifted from when you received your diagnosis to now? I know a common fear among patients in remission is reoccurrence. Is that something you feel like you struggle with?

 

Abby: At the beginning of my journey, I recall having a conversation with my mom, where I asked her, “What if it comes back?” She replied, “What if you get hit by a bus? Anything could happen at any given moment.” Something that has reassured me is logic and the research that goes behind everything. The doctors at Dana-Farber are straight up with you all the time. They'll be very logical with you. There was a point when I was being superstitious and thinking that the language I used would increase the chances of cancer coming back. I had to take a step back and remember, “Your bone marrow biopsy has proven that you’re in remission, that you’re in continued remission.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Sarah: Yeah, I think that there is a whole language behind cancer and how you refer to yourself holds a lot of weight. People debate over whether you say “survivor,” “in remission,” “in active treatment,” “NED,” “stable,” etc. I think, as a person who experiences a cancer diagnosis, you are a survivor since the day you receive that diagnosis because every single day since your diagnosis, you've been surviving.

 

Sarah: Okay, this is always my favorite question to ask. It’s the last one I have for you. If you could share one message with the world, what would it be? 

Abby: Oh, Sarah, that's so good. Okay, so I love to read, and there was this one book I read called How to Stop Time by Matt Haig. The whole premise of this book is that the main character lives forever and assumes new identities with every century. So, in 1614 he’s an apprentice to Shakespeare, in 1920 he’s a pianist in Paris, and in the present day he’s an Oxford professor. There's this one scene where he’s talking to his mentor, who's even older than he is. The main character says to the mentor, “Do you ever feel pain?” And the mentor says, “I am good with pain. Small price to pay for being alive.” I read this during a particularly tough part of my treatment, and it resonated deeply with me. All of the treatment, all of the anxious phone calls, all of the painful bone marrow biopsies were worth it if it means that I’m alive. And being alive for me means, yes, being anatomically alive, but it’s also making memories with my friends during Senior Week, cracking a good joke and making my mom really laugh, having the best cannoli in all of Boston, and falling asleep with my purring cats.  

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Thanks for reading! For more support, resources, and information on blood cancers, such as leukemia, please visit: Leukemia and Lymphoma Society

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