Megan Hughes, our Associate Director of Admin Services, is currently recovering from a stem cell transplant as she battles a form of blood cancer called myelodysplastic syndrome (MDS). While recovering in Charlottesville, she wrote-in a Hokie Feature detailing her evolving appreciation for movement in her life.

"Right now for me, movement means fighting. Movement means healing. Movement means surviving. Movement means tiny steps for big health.

In December I was struggling to do every day things like walk to my office from my car or pick up my five-month old son. I kept chalking it up to being out of shape until my friend and colleague talked me into going to the doctor. A panel of blood work at the doctor, followed by blood transfusions, bone marrow biopsies, and a short hospital stay revealed I had a form of blood cancer called myelodysplastic syndrome (MDS). This disease means that my blood cells - that are formed in the bone marrow - are never maturing and entering the blood stream. So all of my blood cells - white cells, red cells, and platelets - are very low. White cells fight infection, red cells delivers oxygen to the body, and platelets heal the body. This is the reason I was feeling so awful!

I was diagnosed in January and was told that the ultimate solution for my disease was a stem cell transplant to be handled through the Emily Couric Clinical Cancer Center at the University of Virginia. We scheduled for early April and in the meantime I did low level chemo treatments in Blacksburg. Because of COVID, my transplant got delayed until the beginning of July.

So now, here I am in the hospital at UVA for my stem cell transplant. In a transplant what happens, in very simple terms, is that they kill off all of my bad cells through chemotherapy. Then they take the cells of a matched donor and put them in me. Those cells take hold and become my cells. When they kill off all my cells, I essentially have no immune system until the new cells take hold which takes some time. So there have been some days that have been really rough and I’ve felt really awful and I’ve been in a lot of pain. And other days haven’t been quite so bad.

But here’s the thing, they encourage me to get up and walk every single day. I go out into the hallway with my massive IV pole and just walk a lap around the unit. 17 laps is a mile. Everyone says to do it even when you don’t feel like it. Even if it is only one lap. My goal is always to walk three times a day.

Some days I jam out to loud, upbeat music and some days I use the time to just think or be quiet.

It has made me think a lot about movement and the Hokie Movement.

For a long time, as an athlete, movement meant performance. I moved and played and worked out to be the best; to perform at a high level; to compete.

After that, movement meant fun. I worked out with my friends everyday and we had so much fun doing it. We played in softball leagues and volleyball tournaments and went for runs together. And for me it was all about connecting with friends and having fun.

At some point, movement started meaning mental health. Being active and moving helped me manage stress and gave me a space for “me time” and helped me appreciate my body and being strong.

But now, movement means fighting. Movement meals healing. Movement means surviving. Not long ago I was deadlifting and taking spin classes and using battle ropes and running stadium stairs. And now, all I can manage to do is walk some laps in a hospital hallway.

But you know what? Those laps might be the most important movement I’ve ever done. In those laps my body is healing. My body is getting rid of the chemotherapy and starting to make new, healthy cells. In those laps my body is fighting. The movement is helping me not get sick in other ways while in the hospital. The walking helps my lungs and heart be strong as my body is being attacked by chemo. In those laps my body is surviving. My body is reminding me that it can get through this even when my mind doubts that. And in those laps I am reminded that there is an end to this difficult journey and that sometime soon I can add in all kinds of other movement. That does something special for my mental well-being. It takes me away from the hard moments and these hospital walls and reminds me there is an abundant life on the other side of this.

Movement adds so much to our lives no matter where we are or what is happening. And it will mean different things to us throughout our lives. I hope I will always remember this time when movement - in its simplest, most basic form - mattered so much in making me healthy again.

A lot of my friends are doing A Million Miles for Megan where they walk 10,000 steps a day for my first 100 days post transplant (a critical recovery period). They are tracking steps in an app and raising money for Be the Match (the organization that matches transplant donors). It is amazing how their movement comes alongside me and makes me feel so loved and supported. And I think for them, their movement allows them to think of me in a tangible way that matters. It is beautiful what movement can do."