Diagnosing Vincent

 Bernardita Jimenez describes the trauma of discovering that her 3 year old son Vincent had Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia.

I will always remember being told that my youngest son Vincent had meningitis. An overworked registrar at my local hospital just dropped the news. I was devastated. I couldn’t imagine anything worse but I was wrong. Eventually it turned out that my son did not have meningitis and had been misdiagnosed. The mistake, however, was a blessing in disguise which helped to uncover the real illness, leukaemia, at a very early stage.

Two weeks after the meningitis episode the hospital contacted me to arrange an urgent appointment with the haematologist. I was puzzled – hadn’t Vincent been given
the all clear? As the day wore on, I started fearing the worst. My sister called and told me off. I was “so negative” and the appointment probably nothing more than a routine procedure. That night I sent a few friends an email asking for their prayers and sharing my fears. I was hoping to discover that I had embarrassed myself and would have to send a new email apologising for raising hairs. At the hospital I can only imagine that my fears must have been obvious on my face because the haematologist just said: “You know why you’re here”. I didn’t have a chance to respond, tears started rolling down my face. Vincent had leukaemia. 

What followed now looks so paced but yet so fast. First calling my husband, family, friends, and colleagues then packing and within hours being admitted to Great Ormond Street Hospital. Just days later Vincent’s treatment started. I have never cried as much as in those days. We knew so little about the illness and the uncertainty was the worst but as the days passed we started understanding more and initial fearswere replaced by trust in the medical staff who explained our son’s illness and prognosis. We also found great comfort in the care and kindness of others who helped us get through those first weeks – not just families and close friends but long lost friends, many of whom had never met our children, came forward to express their sympathy.

We learned that Vincent had Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia the most common type of Leukaemia. He was later classified as low risk and completed the most intense part of treatment without any problem. But for 6 months Vincent’s treatment took over our lives with daily life dominated by blood tests and hospital appointments. I became Vincent’s main carer and had to give away any sense of individuality. Vincent has just turned 3 and, what is for most parents just another birthday, is for us a major milestone. He has started maintenance treatment lasting until 2012. We still have a very long way to go and when treatment is completed we will have a year or two when the risk of relapse is still significant.

“That night I sent a few friends an email asking for their prayers and sharing my fears.”

Despite his illness Vincent, now a lively and solid looking boy, moves on with determination. For him, treatment and illness are just a way of living. He takes his chemotherapy each night without a question and is never down when he has been hospitalised even referring to “his hospital bed” as if it were a second home or holiday camp!



I have no doubt that this illness has changed us all. As a family and as individuals I hope we have become stronger and wiser. We have learned to cherish small successes: Vincent getting his hair back; Vincent becoming more independent. His illness has also touched friends who have made radical changes
to their lives. One close friend decided to change her relationship with her daughter; another started running marathons. For us as parents, the fear of relapse will be with us for many years. Life will never really be the same again; only when researchers find out what triggers leukaemia we will be able to detach ourselves from theillness and see this illness as a past event.