'Little soldier' battles leukemia; family faces crisis
By NASEEM S. MILLER Star-Banner
Published: Thursday, June 26, 2008 at 6:30 a.m.

Verniece Roberts, 8, has battled cancer for two months. What started as fatigue and little bruises on her legs was later typed and printed on her medical charts as Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, known as ALL for short. "When they told me I had leukemia, I knew it was a sickness," she said. "And I know I'd be going through a lot." ALL is the most common cancer in children, occurring in about one in 29,000 kids in the United States each year, according to the National Cancer Institute. Treatment is complex and involves two to three years of chemotherapy.

In the house with the blue roof, Paul Roberts, Verniece's dad, makes phone calls seeking some form of health insurance for her. Children's Medical Services has given them free health insurance until July 15th. Paul knows time is running out. Medicaid has turned him down, because the $35,000 he earns as an estimator at a construction company is too much for him to qualify. He has applied to the state's KidCare insurance program and is waiting to hear back. Unless the family secures health insurance, Verniece's two-year-plus treatment could cost them more than $1 million, he said. National nonprofit groups, like the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, offer small stipends or assistance when possible. But none replaces health insurance. Friends and family have been helping out.

Verniece and her parents stay in a family member's apartment when they make their twice-a-week visit to Shands in Gainesville for Verniece's chemotherapy injections. A few friends have arranged fundraisers and have set up a bank account for donations. Strangers have offered prayers. "Hearing that somehow gives me strength," Paul Roberts said. Thi Nguyen, Verniece's mom, knows the statistics. More than 85 percent of children with ALL live five years or more. Her little girl will live much, much more. She will go back to Vietnam, her mother's homeland, for another visit, like she did two years ago. She will have a bowl of her favorite white rice noodle bowl, called Phõ. She will bike around the block again, feel the rays of sun on her pale skin, and play with her classmates at Ward-Highlands Elementary School. "She's one of those students you wished you had a classroom full of," said Verniece's second-grade teacher, Diana Studer. After the cancer diagnosis, she said, Verniece "grew up quickly. She matured quickly. But she's up to the task." Nguyen has given up going to her job as a nail technician at Wal-Mart. She has a more important job at home. She breaks her little soldier's big chemotherapy pills in half, so that she can swallow 12 or so of them everyday. Because of the medicine, Verniece gets food cravings. Mom satisfies them all - even frog legs. And she greets every guest with a sullen smile, a mask and a shot of hand sanitizer. Verniece is dangerously susceptible to infections. In the house with the blue roof, yesterday and tomorrow don't matter. It's about now. These days, a crisis can come up any minute. Just like it did last month, when Verniece had a stroke and was in a coma for more than a week. Doctors worried that she might lose most of her functions. But she bounced back. Paul and Thi take pride and comfort in the fact that their only child has had access to health care, despite their worries about securing insurance. "I thank God we're in America," Paul said. "I wouldn't want to be in any other country. We've got the best doctors and equipment here."

In the house with the blue roof, Paul recalls his days in the Gulf War and tells his little girl, "try to be a soldier." "There comes a breaking point that you have to decide to fight the battle," he said. But nothing prepared this Navy veteran for this battle - not the heat of Saudi Arabia, nor the arid deserts of Kuwait. Neither the bullets nor the rockets. This time, the battle is under his roof, embedded in his flesh and blood. And his comrade, his little solider, is soft as cotton, fragile as a china doll, sweet as candy. If he could only take on the fight himself... But his little American soldier is tough. "I have to stay with it. I feel fine about it," Verniece said. Naseem Miller may be reached at naseem.miller@starbanner.com or 867-4140.