Meet Bill and his daughter, Ashley…

I was going to dedicate this week’s Team in Training Run to my Grandmother but this story was passed on to me and the entire team is dedicating our run to this courageous family.

Her story:

Some nights, Bill Aven walks into his daughter’s bedroom to watch her sleep, just like he did when she was a baby. Some days, he walks to the end of the road outside of his Lynnwood home and cries. His little girl has terminal cancer. Last spring Ashley Aven was a typical teenager who hung out with her friends and played softball at Meadowdale High. Other than chronic fatigue, she showed no signs of what she’s battling today — acute myeloid leukemia, a rare and aggressive disease.

According to the American Cancer Society, AML starts in cells that would normally turn into white blood cells. It originates in the bone marrow and quickly moves into the blood. AML is a genetic mutation. Its cause is unknown.

Bill and his wife, Tamara, and Ashley’s pediatrician simply thought her exhaustion was caused by a persistent case of the flu or burnout from softball or the end of the school year. On July 8, the Avens took their daughter to Children’s Hospital. Ashley had a temperature of 104, but she felt healthy enough to walk past the wheelchair that greeted her at the front door. “Dad, why are we here?” she asked. “I have a fever.” Two hours later, they received the diagnosis. “What do you mean she’s got leukemia?” Bill asked.

Ashley spent nearly six months at Children’s. She went through rounds and rounds of chemotherapy, designed to prepare her for a bone-marrow transplant. Her brother, Eric, 14, was a perfect match — too perfect as it turned out. Doctors were concerned that his bone marrow might be so similar that it could be susceptible to AML too. Another match was subsequently found. Before a transplant could take place, Ashley needed to have less than 5 percent of cancer in her system. After the first round of chemo, she was down to 16 percent. After the second round, 6 percent. She never got lower than that. Intensive treatments followed, and the numbers increased.

“She had a high-risk leukemia from the beginning,” said Thomas Manley, Ashley’s doctor from the hematology-oncology department at Children’s. “It’s been super-resistant to therapy.” In early January, Manley and another doctor, Abby Rosenberg, went into her room, stood at the foot of her bed and told her there was nothing more they could do. Ashley asked them if she was going to die. The Avens took their daughter home in early January. Her three cats — Bob, Squirttle and Lucy — were thrilled to see her and followed her to her room. The family was told she had two months to live. They don’t believe that, and neither does Ashley. “I’m stronger than the cancer,” she said. “The cancer doesn’t have me.”

“Nobody’s giving up,” Bill said. “Two months could turn into nine months, and nine months could turn into a cure.”

This was supposed to be her senior year of high school, and she was supposed to be playing softball again. She should be in the cafeteria having lunch with her friends, not having a feeding tube installed. She should be walking down the halls as a healthy, vibrant kid, not dealing with sore feet that are a side effect from her medication. As a softball player, she had really improved. When she turned out for the first time three years ago, she had never played before. In her first game, Ashley drew a walk and went to the dugout.

The opposing coach thought that Meadowdale junior varsity coach Dennis Hopkins was trying to pull a fast one.

“She thinks she’s out,” Hopkins told him. “Nobody had explained to her what a walk was.” It turned into a running joke. The next two years, Hopkins would have Ashley tell new players what a walk meant. Hopkins calls her “Speedy” because she’s one of the fastest players he’s ever seen. A ball would be hit to the gap, and he’d think it was going for extra bases, but Ashley tracked it down. He had no idea how she got there in time. She’s a total teammate, the kind of player who follows instructions no matter what they are.

“Why this kid?” Hopkins asked. “You never want this to happen to any kid, but especially this kid.”

Why this kid? Family friend Melinda Sloan has the same question. For three straight summers, she and her husband took Ashley to their cabin at Desert Aire near Vantage in Eastern Washington. Ashley looked forward to the trip because she got to play nonstop with the Sloans’ toddler. “There’s something about her that everyone loves,” Sloan said. “You’re just kind of drawn to her. She’s always smiling and her spirit’s always positive. She’s fun to be around.” Ashley loves little kids and enjoys babysitting so much that she wants to be a children’s nurse someday. A neighbor across the street just had a baby and they’ve been texting every day.

At Children’s, she made friends with everyone and bonded most closely to younger kids.

“She’s such a sweet girl,” Manley said. “Her caring for others was obvious to all of us.” “She’s incredible,” said Ashley Southerland, a child-life specialist at Children’s who spent a lot of time with Ashley during her stay. “She seems like she’s trying to take care of her family. She’s worried about her parents and her brother more than herself.” Power, the chaplain, added: “Throughout this journey, she has wanted to protect her family. She holds a lot in because of that. They have a close and loving connection. It’s really quite beautiful to see.”

After the Avens came home from Children’s last month, Tamara broke down in her daughter’s bedroom. Ashley hugged her and told her that everything would be OK. She doesn’t want her dad to cry either.

“She’s worried about me,” Bill said.

Then there’s Eric, the cool little brother who made Thanksgiving dinner for the family. He laughs and jokes, coping with humor. Eric and his friends have been selling bracelets outside the local QFC and other establishments with proceeds going to her sister’s foundation. His stored-up emotions have yet to come out, and that concerns Bill too. Meadowdale High Principal Dale Cote talked about the ripple effect at his school. Kids can’t possibly comprehend the thought of a classmate with terminal cancer. Counselors are available for support.

One student stopped by Cote’s office and asked if he could be a bone-marrow donor. Another told him that she was working at Dairy Queen and felt terrible that she didn’t recognize Ashley when she came through the drive-through. Ashley has lost her hair because of chemotherapy. When the boys’ basketball team hosted Edmonds-Woodway on Jan. 26, Ashley was the guest of honor. The announcer introduced her and the crowd went wild. The Mavericks all wore shooting shirts with AVEN on the back and No. 2, her number as a softball player. At the end of the game, she posed for pictures with the team.

Her softball team will pay tribute to her this year too by wearing a No. 2 patch on their uniforms.

If she were to come to school today, Ashley would see a big poster on the Meadowdale stage with messages from fellow students. Cote wants to give her an honorary diploma, knowing that she might not make it to her high school graduation in June. When the principal goes home at night, he’s a different dad. His perspective has changed.

“Kids keeping their room clean is not important to me anymore,” Cote said.

Ashley’s dad is just trying to keep it together. He tries to stay busy. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Late last fall, Bill wrote on Caring Bridge: “This is the hardest thing I have ever gone through in my entire life. As a father and a husband, all I can do is stand as tall as I can and help my family step over each hurdle as the come our way.” Bill told Hopkins, Ashley’s softball coach, that he opened the Bible and looked for the “Why” section but couldn’t find it. He wanted this story written to increase awareness about AML. He hopes that parents will closely monitor their children. Flu and leukemia have similar symptoms.

Ashley is spending quiet days at home with friends and family. At night she likes to lie in bed and watch TV with her mom — “Desperate Housewives,” “Grey’s Anatomy” or any of those chick flicks they show on Lifetime. She’s a kid who was never into makeup and jewelry and used to chase her dad around with two mitts and a ball, wanting to play catch. Bill never missed an inning of her games and always carried her bag. Her whole room is decorated with monkeys because she likes them that much. When she was contacted by the Make A Wish Foundation, she said she wanted to pet a monkey but ended up going to Disneyland instead.

Ashley’s hair is gone, but that smile’s still there along with her will to live.

“We are living life against what the doctors are saying and following Ashley’s lead,” Bill wrote on Caring Bridge. “As she says, she is stronger than cancer, and that cancer does not have her. “So with strong hope and the most incredible positive attitude we can muster up, we will prevail and again be out in the sun playing catch soon.”

Ashley Aven passed away on August 14. We run so that others may live and so that Ashley is not forgotten.