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ONE STEP AWAY
Part 2
: The Illness

By CYNTHIA RAMNARACE
Evening News staff writer

Angela Smithers was barely scraping by when she found the lump in her daughter's neck.

She was working at Pizza Hut as a waitress, making $7.50 an hour. Her children qualified for Medicaid coverage through the State of Michigan. They also got some food assistance, which helped Angela stock the refrigerator. But there was little money for anything else.

Tabatha Smithers, then 3, was enrolled in preschool and she enjoyed it. Angela's youngest, Thomas Smithers, still a baby, and her oldest, Collin Gates, 5, were in day care, too, while she worked.

Angela was a young single mother with lots of responsibility. She had her first baby at 17, and now at 25 has three children. Only one of their fathers helps with child support. But Angela was getting her life together. The job at Pizza Hut was going well. A manager job was opening up and there were rumors she would get it.

Then there was the lump.

Illness takes toll

Tabatha Smithers' leukemia stretches family's finances

If there's anything a parent of young children is used to, it's colds. Runny noses, sore throats and swollen glands are part of the drill.

But what Angela Smithers saw in her daughter, Tabatha, on that July night last year was different.

Angela perched over her 3-year-old daughter, Tabatha, in the tub, washing off the remnants of a hot summer day. Tabatha turned her head and the lump jutted out of her thin, long neck. Angela moved her fingers over the bulge and sensed something was wrong.

"Everyone said it's just her trying to get sick," Angela says. "But a day later, I took her to the doctor."

It could be mononucleosis, the doctor said. But Tabatha's spleen was enlarged as well, and some tests had to be done. Immediately. Angela took Tabatha from the doctor's office to the hospital. Blood was drawn. At 10:30 that night, the phone rang. It was Tabatha's doctor.

"Right then, I knew something was wrong," Angela says.

"I have some bad news," the doctor told her that night. "It's not mono. It's leukemia."

It was July 27, 2002, a date Angela will never forget. Holding the phone in her hand, she screamed, she cried. Exactly what she said to the doctor she can't recall. She handed the phone to someone else who could talk, because she could not.

That night, Angela bundled up her toddler and, asking a friend for a ride because her car couldn't be trusted to make it to Ann Arbor, took her daughter to the Mott Children's Hospital. The doctors commended her for having that lump checked out. Tabatha was dangerously ill and had treatment been delayed even just a few more days, the results could have been devastating.

"The next day she got sick," Angela says. "She was pale. You could tell she was a cancer patient. I didn't know she would get that sick so quick."

It's t-cell leukemia, the doctors said. It's rare and it's hard to fight. Tabatha has a 70 percent chance of surviving. Her treatments will take two years and two months of continuous chemotherapy. Tabatha will get sicker, weaker. Her hair will fall out, grow back and fall out again. When other kids play, she will want to sleep. The chemo will strip her immunity down to nothing, making her more likely to catch whatever was going around.

It was cancer and it would change all of their lives.

"It was like a nightmare for four or five months," Angela says. "You felt like it was a nightmare. You were waiting to wake up."

Having a sick child changed all of Angela's plans. Stripped of her immunity and susceptible to dangerous illness, Tabatha could no longer go to day care. Angela tried juggling her work schedule with that of friends and family who could watch Tabatha, but the effort was pointless.

Click Images to Enlarge

Evening News photo by BRYAN BOSCH

Tabatha Smithers waits for her mom to give her medication. Angela Smithers, Tabatha's mother, was forced to quit her job to take care of her sick daughter full-time.

 

Evening News photo by BRYAN BOSCH

Tabatha drinks milk with her medication because she doesn't like the taste.

 

Evening News photo by BRYAN BOSCH

Angela cooks dinner for the family. Saving enough money for food is one of Angela's toughest struggles now that she's not working.

 

Evening News photo by BRYAN BOSCH

Angela Smithers (right) takes a moment to herself to eat some dinner. Her brother's girlfriend, Jessica Hensley, feeds Thomas Smithers, 3. Jessica helps Angela with chores and watching the kids.

 

Evening News photo by BRYAN BOSCH

Although seriously sick, Tabatha is still a normal child in the sense that she likes to play and have fun.

 

Evening News photo by BRYAN BOSCH

Tabatha and Angela play a game of memory with some friends. Angela spends all day with her daughter, which is why she cannot work.

 

Evening News photo by BRYAN BOSCH

Tabatha spanks her brother Collin, 6, with a rolled up newspaper while Jessica Hensley, holds Collin. In the background is Tabatha's cousin and friend Savannah Hensley, 4.

"Eventually I realized it didn't make any sense," Angela says. "I was working 2½ hours a day because it was the only time I could work because (my brother) had to go to work."

While working at Pizza Hut, Angela made $7.50 an hour, or $15,600 a year. This put her below the poverty line, which for a single parent with three children is $18,307. As such through the Family Independence Agency she qualified through the state for $400 in food stamps, day care and subsidized rent for her Monroe apartment.

That was before Tabatha got sick.

While working, Angela brought in $1,600 a month, counting her pre-tax wages and $300 in food assistance money. Now Tabatha qualifies for SSI assistance of $552 a month. Angela gets $413 cash assistance from Monroe County Family Independence Agency. Once the SSI kicked in, her food stamps were decreased to $118 a month. She now has a budget of $1,083 a month, one-third less than what she had to work with before Tabatha got sick. There are many times when it simply isn't enough.

"It's definitely a lot easier being able to work for money," Angela says.

Finances are a constant worry. There always has to be enough cash in the house for gas in case she needs to unexpectedly rush Tabatha to the hospital in Ann Arbor. Her phone service must include long distance, so she can call doctors, which she does often. The bill can sometimes be surprisingly high.

But without a doubt, the hardest thing to manage is food.

"I'll get to a point where there's nothing in there at all," Angela said. "The first week of the month, Tabatha is on steroids and all she wants to do is eat."

Tabatha loves pizza rolls, chicken nuggets, ham, pepperoni and chicken. To stretch her food dollar, Angela shops at Sav-A-Lot. But there have been five, six times when the money had run out and the cupboards were bare. At that point Angela picks up the phone and makes the difficult call to her aunt to ask for help.

"That's hard, especially when you have to ask a lot," she said.

This summer, a fundraiser was raised to help Angela pay for certain medications not covered by Medicaid and to get Tabatha a computer. Now that she's no longer in preschool, Angela hopes educational programs on the computer will keep her from falling behind.

Angela never had big dreams for herself, but she never imagined herself here. Her struggles began long ago. She never liked school and by her freshman year at Monroe High School she barely bothered to go to class. At 16, when the law would allow it, she dropped out. She got a job and she partied. She met a guy and at 17 got pregnant. It was a shock, but also a blessing.

"When my first kid came along, that straightened me out," Angela says.

She gave up the drinking and quit smoking pot. She and Collin's father tried to make things work but their relationship fell apart. Angela has been on her own ever since.

"I was an instant mom," she says. "It was hard, but I did it."

Without a high school diploma and with few skills, the job pickings were slim. Mostly she's worked as a waitress. Pizza Hut was the first place Angela saw some opportunity to move up the ranks. The job she liked the best, though, was a three-month stint at Delta USA. She was working with her hands, and each day brought something different. But after three months she was laid off.

She misses working, if for no other reason than it got her out of the house. Everything in Angela's life now revolves around Tabatha's cancer. Ask her what she does all day and she points to herself, sitting on her couch, talk shows blaring from the television, her children playing nearby.

"You're looking at it," she says.

Angela does not feel sorry for herself, only for her daughter and what she has to deal with. But she does admit she misses the way things used to be.

"I love work," Angela says. "I miss being out of the house."

The State of Michigan requires that in order to qualify for cash assistance, a person must be working or actively looking for work. There are few exceptions, and one is having to care for a sick child.

Earlier this summer, Angela was optimistic that an end to this nightmare was in sight. Tabatha was responding well to chemotherapy. The date was coming closer and closer when she would be in remission.

But things took a turn for the worse and Tabatha regressed. The hunt was on for a bone marrow transplant. Neither her mother nor brothers are a match. Chemotherapy continued and soon Tabatha started responding again. Every Monday Angela takes Tabatha to Ann Arbor and after three weeks of that, she receives four straight days of inpatient care. All of this was made much more difficult a couple of weeks ago, when Angela totaled her car in an accident.

"I'll have to see if (the Monroe County Opportunity Program) can help me," she says. Fortunately, the agency can.

All Angela wants now out of life is for Tabatha to be well. After chemotherapy, Tabatha comes home and vomits. She also needs to receive platelets, which make her break out in hives.

"I miss her not being sad," Angela said. "I don't like seeing her looking sick. It's sad seeing her like that. When she's at the hospital, she wants to come home but she can't."

Once Tabatha's well again, Angela plans to pick up where she left off.

"I want to get that manager's job at Pizza Hut and get out of here," she says.

Continue to Part 3: The Divorce


04/09/2004 Update - Congratulations to Cynthia Ramnarace for receiving third place in the Public Service category from the Michigan Associated Press for coverage of this story.

Click here to see more award winning photos and stories by The Monroe Evening News.