By LOIS KINDLE
In February 2021, Misty Steffen couldn’t have been happier. The 48-year-old registered nurse had recently moved to Palmetto and landed a great job in senior management at HCA Florida South Shore Hospital. Her daughter, Samantha, was studying nursing at Galen University.
But things were about to change drastically. By September, she attributed her constant fatigue to long work hours as the hospital’s chief nursing officer and to menopause. Barely a year later, she became overwhelmingly exhausted all the time.
She felt like she had a wicked case of the flu and ended up in the ER, where she learned her hemoglobin level was only half of what it should have been.
On March 24, 2022, she learned she had MDS, a rare, aggressive blood cancer, and she would need a bone marrow transplant to survive.
The following September, after 21 doses of chemotherapy, she received her transplant at the H. Lee Moffitt Cancer Center in Tampa – thanks to an anonymous donation of stem cells by a 24-year-old man from the United Kingdom.
“The transplant went really well, and I had six months cancer-free,” Steffen said. “My body had accepted the donor cells quickly, and my bone marrow started working. But two weeks later his cells started attacking my body, and I became deathly ill. I was admitted to Moffitt for another 12 days.
The donor cells were attacking her bowel, stomach and esophagus. She was severely dehydrated and malnourished, had severe abdominal pain and was nauseous and vomiting. The medications she was prescribed caused high blood pressure and high blood sugar.
OBSERVER FILE PHOTO
Back in February 2021, Misty Steffen had no idea of the coming ordeal she’d be facing. By March the following year, she learned she had a rare, aggressive blood cancer and would need a bone marrow transplant to survive.
“I still have mild symptoms in my bowel and have been on steroids and prescription medications for the past 14 months,” Steffen said.
Due to her weakened immune system, she contracted a virus that got into her blood and ended up in her right eye. Two surgeries later, she was left legally blind in that eye.
“I had to travel seven days a week for 40 days to Moffitt for treatment, which involved two daily infusions and 14-hour days.
“I felt like I was going insane,” Steffen said. “I just about called it quits, but the encouragement from my community gave me the will to keep fighting. I finally got rid of the virus after nine months.”
She then developed BK virus, which made her urinate every five to 20 minutes around the clock for more than two weeks.
“Again I wanted to say enough, I’m done. I can’t take much more,” she said. “But friends, family and co-workers kept me going.”
COURTESY PHOTO
Steffen was commencement speaker at her daughter Samantha’s graduation from nursing school at Galen University last May. She and her husband, Brett, had prerecorded her speech before her bone marrow transplant, not knowing if she would still be alive or able to present. She’s shown here on oxygen and in a wheelchair with her family at the event.
The cancer returns
Since her original diagnosis, Steffen had been through hell, and there was still more to come.
The cancer returned last March, but this time it converted to acute myeloid leukemia.
“It was like a gut punch,” Steffen said. “After all I had been through, I had only had six months cancer free.
“In May, while I was waiting for treatment for the leukemia, I went into respiratory failure,” she continued. “I was admitted to Moffitt for another 12 days. My lungs were whited out on the CT scan, which meant my lungs weren’t working. We were told I wouldn’t recover.”
She was placed on maximum oxygen and given three options: do nothing and go home on hospice to die; get blood and platelet transfusions for comfort care and possibly get another year of life; or be admitted to Moffitt for five weeks to receive three different types of intense chemo.
“I was told the chances of me dying in the hospital were greater than the chance this would work, but I was reminded comfort care and hospice were not giving up. A lot of my team and tribe had been against this option,” she said.
Steffen recalled a strange verbal exchange she had with a waiter prior to the transplant back in September 2022.
“We arrived at the restaurant, and my husband asked if we could sit outside away from everyone,” she said. “We were wearing masks, and the server asked if we were sick. I told him I had cancer but was in treatment.
OBSERVER FILE PHOTO
Misty Steffen has received more than 200 blood and platelet transfusions over the past 21 months. She thanks God for every single donor for helping save her life.
“He asked my name, said he would pray for me and walked us to our table,” Steffen continued. “He kept messing with the salt and pepper shakers and rearranging things on our table. Then he looked at me and said, ‘Ma’am, do you have grandchildren?’ I smiled and said, ‘No, not yet,’ as he continued walking around our table rearranging things. He still had not seated us.
“He looked at me, took a deep breath and said, ‘I feel like I’m supposed to tell you you’re going to live to see your grandchildren.’”
“I cried like a baby, and my husband even became emotional,” said Steffen, who was shocked by the exchange.
Throughout her ordeal, whenever someone asked her why she would endure all of this, her response had always been she wanted to be at her daughter’s graduation nursing school and wedding. She wanted to be there when Samantha had her grandbabies and to help her raise them. She wanted more time with her beloved husband, Brett. They were about to be empty nesters, and she said she was excited for their coming time together.
“There is no way this complete stranger could know any of this,” Steffen said. “I heard his words as a promise from God – that I would live, be healed of cancer and help raise my grandbabies.
“I carried that promise with me on every dark night,” she said. “I knew options one and two would not allow me to see my grandchildren, so option three was my only option, and the largest leap of my faith.”
Moving forward
Last May, Steffen was the commencement speaker at her daughter’s graduation from nursing school.
“Before I went in for my transplant, we prerecorded my speech, not knowing if I would be here or able to present,” Steffen said. “I was able to attend on oxygen and in a wheelchair. The school played the video we’d made on big screens and surprised my daughter and me. I was allowed to present her nursing pin to her. She cried. Her classmates cried and gave us a standing ovation.
“We will never forget that moment. It meant so much to us,” Steffen said. “I have loved every single day of being a nurse, and the fact my daughter is living out my legacy fills my heart. I cannot believe the college was so thoughtful and created that special moment for us.”
At the end of June, Steffen purposefully walked into Moffitt and shared with her husband she would be walking out.
“We spent 37 days there going through 11 different kinds of chemotherapy, the loss of hair again and all the side effects of chemo. We did another bone marrow biopsy to see if the chemo attacked the cancer. My results came back, no cancer and no variants.
“On day 37, I walked out of Moffitt,” she said. “I received shots in my belly for about a month to help with white blood cell production, since the chemo damaged my bone marrow. I still had to go to Moffitt two to four times a week for blood and platelet transfusions or electrolyte replacements and twice a week to provider appointments.
“I was doing okay, and then in October I had a blood test showing all my blood levels dropped, and there were immature cells in my blood indicative of cancer,” Steffen said. “This resulted in my third conversation about preparing for the end.”
She had another bone marrow biopsy, her 17th, to confirm, and it showed the same results.
“I received this news on a Friday and was told there was nothing else they could do,” Steffen said. “I decided to choose joy and make plans to spend as much time with friends and family as I could.”
The following Monday, expecting to hear how long she had left, Steffen got her final results. The nurse practitioner sat down beside her.
“I have your full report, Misty. There is NO evidence of cancer or mutations,” she said. “We can’t explain it. It must be a God thing.
“You have defied every single odd. We are no longer going to predict your path,” the woman told her. “You lead, and we will support you, as needed.”
COURTESY PHOTO
Former HCA Florida South Shore Hospital CNO Misty Steffen could not have endured the hellish experience she’s been through the past 21 months without the unwavering support of her husband, Brett.
Immense gratitude
Steffen was given a death sentence three times over the past 21 months. She had a transplant, two serious viruses, two surgeries and lost vision in one eye, had more than 200 transfusions and was on 33 medications at one time. She shed 70 pounds and gained back 23. Miraculously, she’s still here.
Steffen is now down to 17 medications, and her visits to Moffit should taper off as her bone marrow starts making its own cells. In January, she’s starting physical therapy and is planning to go back to work next summer.
“I could never have made it through this without the love and support I received from my family, friends, co-workers and the entire community, which has been medicine in itself,” she said, adding people she doesn’t even know have reached out to her, prayed for her and lifted her up. “I’ve received so many texts, calls, cards, gifts and visitors from around the country.
I’m so grateful.
“I know I’m supposed to be here,” she continued. “I have a purpose, and I think it’s to love and give back to this amazing community. There is power in prayer and power in community.
“I will never forget the difference every person made for me. Each one helped save my life.”
