‘He’s always going to be with me’

[Cheesehead]

‘In sickness and in health’


Mitchell had a high pain threshold, but the shoulder became too much to handle during that first weekend back in E-town. Madison finally convinced him to go to the emergency room Monday, Nov. 14, at Hardin Memorial.


Mitchell’s agent called that same day to let them know Baltimore wanted to re-sign him, but Mitchell’s MRI was taking longer than expected. Tests revealed a mass in the center of Mitchell’s chest. He was scheduled for an appointment at the cancer center the very next day.


Doctors originally ruled out leukemia because his hemoglobin levels were fine. They thought the mass was benign at first because a chest mass isn’t often associated with the disease. If anything, it might be lymphoma – but definitely not leukemia.


Mitchell met with a doctor in Lexington on Nov. 21 to schedule a video-assisted horoscopic surgery (VATs) for December to biopsy the mass. Mitchell was concerned, but his pain was manageable. He and Madison hunted, spent time at his family farm and hung out with Jack.


“We didn’t think about it,” Madison said. “Because you never think it’s going to be you.”


Things took a turn for the worse at Thanksgiving. Madison cooked a huge meal for their family and Mitchell barely touched his food. In constant discomfort, he remained in bed throughout the next two days.


Madison brought Mitchell back to the emergency room on Saturday evening, looking for a way to get his pain under control before his biopsy in a couple weeks.


Mitchell was sent home with some pain medication, but it didn’t help. Finally, with Mitchell literally chewing on his shirt in pain, Madison, Terry and Lesley drove him to Lexington at 3 a.m. Sunday. He’d spend the next three days in the ER.


Doctors in Lexington told Mitchell his hemoglobin was low, coming in around 12 grams per deciliter of blood, which raised a red flag because it was 17 just two weeks earlier in E-town. Madison estimates Mitchell had lost about five pints of blood.


After noticing Mitchell’s blood count was very low, Madison mentioned to Lesley a similar pattern had developed with the father of her close friend in high school. He eventually was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia. The revelation hit both Madison and Lesley hard. They ran to the hospital chapel, fell to the floor in tears and prayed.


On Tuesday, Nov. 29, 2016, the two-year anniversary of their engagement, the Lexington doctors told the family leukemia was a possibility and accelerated the date of Mitchell’s biopsy to the next day.


The biopsy, performed by puncturing Mitchell’s lung, running a tube to the mass and then re-inflating his lung, confirmed the mass was filled with AML cells. He’d begin chemotherapy the same day.


“You vow in sickness and in health,” Madison said. “I always thought if we get up in the middle of the night and we’re sick, we’ll take care of each other. Mitchell’s got allergies and so many injuries, so if that happened, I’d be there for him. I never expected to get a life-threatening diagnosis.”


The newlyweds were told they could no longer kiss out of fear of compromising Mitchell’s immune system. Mitchell also wouldn’t be able to see his beloved Jack during chemo.


Mitchell and Madison comforted each other and stuck to their 24-hour rule of grieving and moving forward rather than dwelling on the past. They never once researched statistics on AML.


One of the first people Mitchell called was Arnette, his trainer and motivator. He always knew how to tell Mitchell “to get your head out of your ass” in the right tone of voice. The two talked for an hour and Arnette devised a plan no different than when they were preparing for a football season.


“I told him I’m going to be your coach, man,” Arnette said. “Our mantra was I’m not worried about the outcome; let’s worry about the process. We knew the process would be hard.”


Mitchell spent almost all of December in the hospital. Madison slept in a chair that entire month. Having packed a single bag during that impromptu trip to Lexington, at one point she wore the same clothes five days straight.


The first two months of treatment were taxing on Mitchell. He had to undergo bone marrow biopsies in which a hollow needle is injected into the hip, an excruciating procedure he endured eight times.


Savage and Arnette visited and FaceTimed with Mitchell, encouraging him to “attack the process” and avoid being lazy, drawing on Mitchell’s natural competitiveness. Madison put up a tally board to chart how many laps Mitchell could do walking around the hospital.


“He’d put in 20 laps and I’d be sweating (alongside him),” said Arnette, who drove down to visit Mitchell two or three times a week. “He’s wearing me out – this kid lugging an IV thing around.”


The first round of chemo was successful in eliminating the cancer cells from Mitchell’s blood, but the mass was still there. They went home for five days before New Year’s before returning to Lexington on Jan. 4 for a second round of chemo.


Mitchell suffered an infection halfway through that round of treatment and Madison finally brought up the idea of going to MD Anderson in Houston, widely considered one of the most comprehensive cancer centers in the country.


Mitchell agreed to go under one condition: Jack had to join them. Once Mitchell was cleared of his infection, he, Terry and Madison flew to Texas on the private jet of a family friend.


“We left for the ER,” Madison said. “And we always say we never came home.”