Ever since last summer, Calee Williams has had no idea what’s happening with her body. The University of Oregon junior has lost her sense of touch. She sleeps 16 hours a day because she gets exhausted otherwise. She’s fighting to stay in school amid a series of doctor’s visits, pressure from family to come home and the difficulty of navigating classes when she spends much of her time taking care of herself.
Calee has let two Emerald staffers — a reporter and photographer — into her life. The first, second and third parts of her story are on the website. This is her story in photos.
Calee Williams receives an antibody infusion, or IgG, a monthly treatment of antibody isotopes helping to control infection of body tissues. The antibody infusion is a seven-hour process that brings Williams energy by eliminating toxins from her body, “It’s painful. It’s the only time I actually get sensation in my body because I can feel the tingling of the antibodies go through my system.” (Andrew Seng/Emerald)
The antibodies are dispensed through a peripherally inserted central catheter, which is a long, slender, small flexible tube that is inserted into a peripheral vein, typically in the upper arm, and advanced until the catheter tip reaches a large vein in the chest near the heart. Post insertion at the bedside, a chest x-ray is obtained to confirm ideal placement. (Andrew Seng/Emerald)
Calee is surprised to discover that she and Sacred Heart nurse Kirsten Baird share a unique connection. Baird’s 16-year-old niece, Laurel, was diagnosed with Transverse Myelitis and recently discovered that she had also developed a brain tumor. Baird is the first person Calee has met that knows someone with the same medical condition as herself. (Andrew Seng/Emerald)
The battle is hard and the journey is long. Although Calee always has friends to lean on, she often relies on herself and arrives to doctor appointments and treatments alone, evidence to her strong will and independence. “Sometimes I just don’t want to bother my friends with my problems.” (Andrew Seng/Emerald)
Calee Williams is in a constant battle between finding the energy to maintain satisfactory grades in school and convincing her mom that it’s best she stay at the University of Oregon to pursue a double major in anthropology and psychology. Despite her setbacks, Williams is determined to reach her goals “Education is the only thing I truly have control over in my life.” (Andrew Seng/Emerald)
Eleven bottles of medication are stored in Calee’s medicine cabinet. Her collection is comprised of five daily medications and six other bottles that are forms of pain killers used for migraines and spinal pain. The wristbands are indicative of the of the eight antibody infusion treatments and two hospitalizations that she has gone through since July 2013. (Andrew Seng/Emerald)
Calee applies a topical gel to the corner of her eye, which is used for pain relief on areas that experience severe pain. “It’s kinda like Bengay but on crack. It feels cold even though it’s more for joints.” (Andrew Seng/Emerald)
Laughs are shared between Calee and her friend Mikayla Monnie at the Oregon/Cal baseball game on May 22, 2014. The battle against her medical condition makes it necessary to sacrifice precious time that could be spent socializing with friends. Any time shared with close friends is a treasured moment that lifts Calee’s spirit. (Andrew Seng/Emerald)
Calee sits at her favorite spot on the Willamette River nestled behind trees adjacent to the footbridge leading to Autzen Stadium. It’s the beginning of February, and even though the sun is out, the winter temperatures keep the river’s water frigid. Calee dips her feet in because her numbness dulls the senses and prevents her from feeling the cold sensation. To Calee, the river represents consistency. (Andrew Seng/Emerald)
Willpower and extra effort are necessary for Calee to push through exhausting workouts while enduring the effects of Transverse Myelitis. Months before she was able to tackle her first climb up Spencer Butte, doctors were beginning to accept that she would be wheelchair bound for the rest of her life. “I replay the moments when the doctors told me to squeeze their fingers and I couldn’t do it, or the day the paralysis went up to my neck, or the nights I thought I wasn’t going to live.” (Andrew Seng/Emerald)
“I want to experience these moments of being able to walk by myself. To reach a goal. It’s symbolic.” (Andrew Seng/Emerald)
Continue to the fourth and final part of Calee’s story here.