This year, we spent our December 7th in radiation and blood transfusion appointments, but I’d like to go back to that day for just a second to talk about a special little guy.
Friday, December 7th was Aidan’s 4th birthday. And -like the joyful child he is- he volunteered to spend the day with us at the radiation center and the hospital.
Big events (like the ones our family has experienced this year) can have a way of either strengthening or weakening, and Bob and I have been so proud to see Aid step up and be strengthened. Many is the time we’ve seen him unselfishly give a toy to Chase or physically restrain himself when everything in his little boy nature just wants to shove or push. Just now 4 and only a pound or two heavier than Chase, we often find him carrying his brother’s IV bag on his shoulder so that Chase can move and play with him.
Aidan, my precious concert baby, we are so proud of you!
At the time I started writing this post, Chase had completed 17 of his 30 radiation treatments. He has now completed 22! These radiation days can be pretty intense and it’s not unusual to start the day in one location (usually home) and end the day in a completely different location (the hospital). So as you can imagine, these days are never, ever dull. [sidenote: “Chase” and “dull” are rarely in the same sentence]
Here’s what a normal radiation day looks like … no wait, scratch that. Here’s what a radiation day last week looked like (we reserve the word “normal” for the days we don’t arrive in an ambulance).
Chase arrives for radiation on the hospital transport. The mask is to hopefully minimize the germs…when he remembers to hold it in front of his face.
There is a beautiful built-in fireplace which runs the length of the waiting room wall (picture a lovely five start hotel lobby) and Chase loves it. In fact, he refers to the radiation center as his “firehospital” – not to be confused with his “fishyhospital” (a name derived from the aquarium in the lobby of his primary care hospital).
First, Chase gets his vitals done (blood pressure, oxygen saturation, etc) – which he hates – and then he gets to put a sticker on his sticker chart – which he loves. The radiation center staff kindly provided a sticker chart tailored to each child so that they can “check off” the days and see the progress they’re making. Chase’s chart was presented to him with Cars characters on it. Do they know him or what?
Here’s the sticker chart from around Day #6…Chasey with his radiation nurse, Roshena. He loves his “Miss Roshena” and I believe he’s actually proposing to her with a plastic ring he found in the sticker box. So classy.
After he’s “cleared” for radiation, we walk to the room he calls his “spaceship“. This is the time when he’s usually clutching the iPod and listening to/singing with 10,000 Reasons. I wish I had better pictures of this room. One of the most striking things is his mask lying by the table. I can actually see his profile in the contours of the mask and I find myself staring at it every time we go in.
The radiation maskIn the “Spaceship” – the anesthesiologist administers the drug as Chase falls asleep on my shoulder (sorry about the blurry quality – this was as good as we could get)
Almost every day, as Chase falls asleep, he says “I’m so brave, I’m so brave...” over and over to himself. It took me almost two weeks of this to get to the point where I wasn’t crying as I walked out of the room.
After Chase is asleep, I leave him in the “spaceship” and wait in the lobby. On this particular day, I had a particularly wonderful “Good Samaritan” who brought me a particularly needed drink. In other words, my dad brought me coffee.
Thanks, Dad!
After radiation is complete, the nurses allow Chase to sleep off the anesthesia for a little while, at which time, I join him in recovery and once they’re sure he’s stable and alert, we are free to go. Sidenote: for Chase, “alert” usually means “ninja“. A side affect of anesthesia for him is crabbiness – which means it takes three people to get him dressed on many days. A sidenote on my sidenote: when you read that last sentence, please don’t shake your head or cry at the thought of adults struggling with a small boy. Picture with a small, wry smile on my face as I type because I love his fight and although it is at times overwhelming, his stubborn, ninja-fighting, never-say-die attitude is a perfect God-given match for his cancer.
This day (that I took most of the pictures), we finished it as we’d started: on an ambulance. Once he got back to the hospital, he was given a little more chemo and then we were able to be discharged!
Back in the ambulance bay and sleeping off the morning – head shining with post-radiation lotion.
…and that is one of our more average radiation days! (ambulance and chemo not included)
I have been considering thankfulness a lot this week. Specifically, how I could possibly be thankful in a season filled with things that I wish weren’t happening. I have found myself praying “God, I know that I’m supposed to be thankful for everything, yet how can I possibly be thankful for cancer?” This awful disease provokes zero gratitude…rather, pain, hopelessness, and often fear. In the face of heartache, how can I be thankful?
My answer is found in the knowledge that I have been already delivered from this fear:
“I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears.” Psalm 34:4
This is how I can thank God for the cancer: as I am blessedly pushed to greater dependence on Him in the midst of this season, I seek him more, and as I seek him more the fear is gone, and God’s indescribable grace becomes both how I am and what I am most thankful for in this season.
Preparing for discharge…in time for Thanksgiving!
Blessed beyond blessed with so much to be thankful for in this moment by moment life…
We’re home again!! …after our shortest hospital stay yet!! (only three days!)
Thank you for praying! Chase had a successful central line surgery on Thursday and his Friday and Saturday chemo passed without any excitement (adverse reactions, weird vitals, etc, just the usual “excitement” involved in AT/RT chemo…)
A couple updates on the specifics for which I’d asked prayer:
So far, the central line is holding and has not infected!
The cancer is still in his spinal fluid, but that we entrust (as always) to the One who made him.
Our next scheduled chemo clinic is Thursday and we have high hopes that Chase’s white blood count will still be high enough that we won’t be admitted at that time.
I will leave you with a small picture of my Saturday hospital experience… Chase, with his track pants and light-up Spiderman shoes, sans shirt, chest wrapped in an ace bandage, stomp-running down a hospital hallway (while trailing a large IV pole) pointing at medical staff and growling “No smiling in the hospital!” …
There are only so many times you want to find yourself staring at a positive pregnancy test in shock. Frankly, that number would probably be a big fat “zero” for me. Yet, that’s exactly what I was doing in the late winter of 2009. A pregnancy test in one hand and a 3 month old in the other…
“The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.” ~Proverbs 16:9
At exactly 3:02 PM on December 12, 2009, we welcomed our precious Chase into this world.
Overwhelming at times? Yes. Humbling always? Yes. Would I have it any other way? No.
Happy Birthday, Chasey-Bear! We love you!
**Note: Whether it’s an afternoon of being born or playing around the house, his mouth is almost always open and there’s usually [loud] noise coming out of it.**
