Henry had another seizure early this morning. Around 3am he wretched in bed and woke Tara who was sleeping next to his bed. She called me after he was unresponsive. He remained so, open-eyed and intermittently shaking and twitching, for about 45 minutes. After calls with the Hospice nurse we administered some anti-seizure medication. Three or four minutes afterward he began returning to normal and soon after fell asleep with minimal interruptions until morning.
Hearing Henry's voice in the morning was instantly comforting and anxiety provoking. He was only partly intelligible. He was slurring his words and was slow to move. I sat him on the couch to wake up a bit in front of the TV. He was clearly not himself and upon discussing things with our oncologist, we opted for a trip to our local emergency room for a CT scan of his head to ensure that nothing other than what we guessed was at work. We got the girls off to Grandma's and headed over.
We're back from that visit now; only a partial day spent in the emergency room. Since neither the ER doctor or our oncologist had the benefit of seeing the current scan with the prior ones, the report was less than meaningful. We received a copy which we will forward to Hopkins for review. Until then we're glad to be home and to have Henry returning to himself.
Showing posts with label testing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label testing. Show all posts
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, June 6, 2008
A Rough Beginning
Henry's radiation treatments began Wednesday. Despite having been sedated many times before without lasting effect and being told that the effects of radiation wouldn't be manifest until weeks into treatment, Henry has been an anxious, tired mess since this began, Wednesday afternoon.
The girls and I arrived to St. Casimir's about 5:30p on Wednesday only to have Henry vomit shortly after. We expected grogginess for a few hours, but not all day and certainly not this. He proceeded to have several more episodes of the same, increasing our anxiety that his tumor had returned. While rather unlikely, we spent last night in the Emergency Room at Johns Hopkins getting a CT scan of Henry's head. Fortunately the scan showed nothing of the sort to our great relief.
Henry finally slept well last night and woke up to attend his third treatment this morning in fairly decent spirits. We're home now and have a three day respite in which to observe his condition in the absence of sedation and radiation treatments. We get back at it on Tuesday due to a staffing glitch preventing our scheduled treatment Monday. We're hoping for a quiet, long and restful weekend.
The girls and I arrived to St. Casimir's about 5:30p on Wednesday only to have Henry vomit shortly after. We expected grogginess for a few hours, but not all day and certainly not this. He proceeded to have several more episodes of the same, increasing our anxiety that his tumor had returned. While rather unlikely, we spent last night in the Emergency Room at Johns Hopkins getting a CT scan of Henry's head. Fortunately the scan showed nothing of the sort to our great relief.
Henry finally slept well last night and woke up to attend his third treatment this morning in fairly decent spirits. We're home now and have a three day respite in which to observe his condition in the absence of sedation and radiation treatments. We get back at it on Tuesday due to a staffing glitch preventing our scheduled treatment Monday. We're hoping for a quiet, long and restful weekend.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Neuropsych testing
Henry spent several hours today with a pediatric cognitive specialist for neuropsychiatric testing. They schedule kids for 6 hours, but he needed only 2 1/2! He took to the specialist very quickly, and completed his 'games' happily. We'll get the results back at our next visit with them, but we don't expect anything of significance. This was his baseline testing so that his cognitive progress can be monitored over the next several years.
After that we had a visit at the oncology clinic. He felt good today, and enjoyed teasing the clinician. His counts continue to get better and better, though we've been warned that radiation can impact them due to the temporary damage to the bone marrow in the spine. Still, he'll be starting out from a fairly strong point.
He won't have another clinic visit until next Wednesday after his first dose of radiation. We are planning on moving back into St. Casimir's (thank you, Believe in Tomorrow!) for the next several weeks. This will allow us a home base in Baltimore to avoid 4 hours in the car daily, but we'll still be able to spend weekends together at home as a family. When I told him today that we'll be going back to Casimir's next week he said, "Good, I like it there."
We feel more and more ready to face radiation. Of course, we anticipate some unpleasant short term side effects like nausea, vomiting, hair loss, and fatigue, but we hope that they will be mild and brief. Even more so, we are hopeful that this will be the end of the cancer and we won't have to do things to Henry to make him feel sick anymore.
After that we had a visit at the oncology clinic. He felt good today, and enjoyed teasing the clinician. His counts continue to get better and better, though we've been warned that radiation can impact them due to the temporary damage to the bone marrow in the spine. Still, he'll be starting out from a fairly strong point.
He won't have another clinic visit until next Wednesday after his first dose of radiation. We are planning on moving back into St. Casimir's (thank you, Believe in Tomorrow!) for the next several weeks. This will allow us a home base in Baltimore to avoid 4 hours in the car daily, but we'll still be able to spend weekends together at home as a family. When I told him today that we'll be going back to Casimir's next week he said, "Good, I like it there."
We feel more and more ready to face radiation. Of course, we anticipate some unpleasant short term side effects like nausea, vomiting, hair loss, and fatigue, but we hope that they will be mild and brief. Even more so, we are hopeful that this will be the end of the cancer and we won't have to do things to Henry to make him feel sick anymore.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Late Return
It's late and we've just arrived at home again from Hopkins after Henry's MRI. His scan remains unchanged from previous scans which is good news. There has been no progression. There remains an abnormality for which no one has an explanation.
We spoke with the radiation oncologist today as well which was the difficult conversation we've been putting off since the beginning. I'm not sure I even understand the options we have at this point, so I'll sleep on that to let it sink in a bit.
Henry was great today. He had only minor complaints about not being able to eat. He played happily on the floor during our early radiation consultation and after a while fell asleep on Tara's lap. He played with another child while at The Children's House and then we headed over for the MRI. They took us in quickly albeit for a long scan. He is such a little champion. We've very proud of his handling of what could have otherwise been a really rough day.
We spoke with the radiation oncologist today as well which was the difficult conversation we've been putting off since the beginning. I'm not sure I even understand the options we have at this point, so I'll sleep on that to let it sink in a bit.
Henry was great today. He had only minor complaints about not being able to eat. He played happily on the floor during our early radiation consultation and after a while fell asleep on Tara's lap. He played with another child while at The Children's House and then we headed over for the MRI. They took us in quickly albeit for a long scan. He is such a little champion. We've very proud of his handling of what could have otherwise been a really rough day.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Happy Easter
It's Easter weekend and we're all at home. We've eked out an extra night from our doctors so we won't have to return until Monday sometime.
The oncologist called with the results of Henry's tests. His CT of his sinuses looks better than the last one indicating an improvement due to the medicines he's been taking for his sinusitis. His chest x-ray was clean and the placement of his catheter is fine. His MRI remained unchanged. There remain some abnormalities which our doctor said he would like to be able to tell us were gone at this point. They may indicate inflammation due to chemotherapy but we must treat them as if they are cancer cells. No one at this point can tell us what they are - there is just not enough information to tell. We've become comfortable with some uncertainty, but this MRI, although we expected to be the same, took us a little aback with the vagueness of it's results. The upshot is that basically the doctors hoped that the 'abnormalities' would have cleared up by now. We're slowly coming to realize that this is just going to be a waiting game for a long time to come.
Recently we received back our photos from the Flashes of Hope photography session we participated in back in early February. We're pleased to have them back and at how they turned out.
We hope that you all have a blessed and happy Easter.
The oncologist called with the results of Henry's tests. His CT of his sinuses looks better than the last one indicating an improvement due to the medicines he's been taking for his sinusitis. His chest x-ray was clean and the placement of his catheter is fine. His MRI remained unchanged. There remain some abnormalities which our doctor said he would like to be able to tell us were gone at this point. They may indicate inflammation due to chemotherapy but we must treat them as if they are cancer cells. No one at this point can tell us what they are - there is just not enough information to tell. We've become comfortable with some uncertainty, but this MRI, although we expected to be the same, took us a little aback with the vagueness of it's results. The upshot is that basically the doctors hoped that the 'abnormalities' would have cleared up by now. We're slowly coming to realize that this is just going to be a waiting game for a long time to come.
Recently we received back our photos from the Flashes of Hope photography session we participated in back in early February. We're pleased to have them back and at how they turned out.
Henry and Daddy
Hanging Out
The Henry Scowl
Looking Ornery
Our Sweet Boy
Little Man
Standing Proud
Just Us
Sparkle in His Eye
We hope that you all have a blessed and happy Easter.
Friday, March 21, 2008
All Is Well
A quick post at the end of a day of tests. We've had some worried callers due to a lack of posting recently. Rest assured, it's only because our limited internet access at our temporary residence.
Henry had a CT scan of his sinuses, a chest x-ray and an MRI today. They all ran really late and it made for a long day of not eating for him. We expect to hear the results tomorrow. These are routine tests and we hope to hear similar results as the last battery considering the recent chemotherapy has been of a stronger sort.
Thank you for your continued calls, care packages and notes of encouragement. We'll update more thoroughly soon.
Henry had a CT scan of his sinuses, a chest x-ray and an MRI today. They all ran really late and it made for a long day of not eating for him. We expect to hear the results tomorrow. These are routine tests and we hope to hear similar results as the last battery considering the recent chemotherapy has been of a stronger sort.
Thank you for your continued calls, care packages and notes of encouragement. We'll update more thoroughly soon.
Monday, February 11, 2008
The Journey Ahead
Lately Tara and have had the uncomfortable feeling of having received good news regarding Henry's MRI, but having a sense of unease and foreboding. We've presumed it's been because since Henry's diagnosis, we've looked no further than the MRI to prevent our imaginations from running amok with the possible outcomes. Since the MRI, we've suspended our planning a bit in favor of awaiting some additional information about the future of Henry's treatment. Today we went to Hopkins to meet with the transplant doctor and our primary oncologist.
There were a couple of quick tests that Henry required today and with insurance approval finally in place, went off without a hitch. He received a CT scan of his sinuses and a chest x-ray. Both to check for latent infections and the x-ray to ensure his catheter placement was still true. Henry has become a pro at these. With the testing out of the way, we returned to the outpatient clinic to meet the doctors.
Having a child with cancer alters your dreams. It changes your perceptions of the world, the people you interact with and the long-held beliefs about everything from what one should expect from everyday life to the metaphysical questions of why we're here. When you laugh, you wonder if you're really allowed. When you cry, you do so more often and for many different reasons. Today we were given a glimpse of the road ahead and there are significant mountains to climb, the descent from which only a few make.
High dose chemotherapy is required for someone with medulloblastoma, especially with an anaplastic cell type. Left alone, chances are extremely high that the cancer would return. Henry's regimen will include two additional rounds of chemotherapy, each with their own recipe consisting of differing agents. The use of different agents decreases the likelihood that a cancer cell may have resistance to the chemotherapy drugs used.
Near term, Henry will likely face the loss of a significant enough portion of his hearing that he will require a hearing aid. One of the drugs used has already shown Henry's susceptibility to it and we will need to use a much higher dose to have the best chance at eradicating his cancer, but only for one cycle as its planned now. This judicious use may prevent total hearing loss without compromising efficacy.
Henry will be unable to return home for the duration of his chemotherapy. He will spend 3 weeks in the hospital having the therapy administered and his stem cell transplant. Whereas in the first three cycles, his system had its nadir for approximately 4 days, during this treatment, his system will be compromised for much longer during which he'll stay in the hospital as the risk of leaving is too high. We will then be discharged but because of the state of his immune system, he must be within a quick drive to the hospital and therefore must stay nearby. This will be true after our final discharge after the second high dose cycle as well.
The chemotherapy will also break down his immune system's memory for many months. He will have to be re-vaccinated in about a year's time. Long term, Henry will likely be unable to have children. He will be susceptible to other malignancies as well, such as leukemia or skin cancers for which he'll have to have annual systemic testing.
After these two cycles of high dose chemotherapy, a similar battery of tests will be performed to assess the state of Henry's cancer. We cannot hope for a better reading that that of late, the best result for Henry's type the transplant doctor said he's seen. So the best case scenario is that we can find no evidence of the cancer cells, but even that result does not eliminate the possibility. Recurrence is the fear for any cancer patient. So then, we wait.
We will find out soon, exactly when we start this journey. I'm sure it won't be without its obstacles - some of which we've already climbed or skated past. As for Henry, we're planning on holding his hand up and down every mountain.
There were a couple of quick tests that Henry required today and with insurance approval finally in place, went off without a hitch. He received a CT scan of his sinuses and a chest x-ray. Both to check for latent infections and the x-ray to ensure his catheter placement was still true. Henry has become a pro at these. With the testing out of the way, we returned to the outpatient clinic to meet the doctors.
Having a child with cancer alters your dreams. It changes your perceptions of the world, the people you interact with and the long-held beliefs about everything from what one should expect from everyday life to the metaphysical questions of why we're here. When you laugh, you wonder if you're really allowed. When you cry, you do so more often and for many different reasons. Today we were given a glimpse of the road ahead and there are significant mountains to climb, the descent from which only a few make.
High dose chemotherapy is required for someone with medulloblastoma, especially with an anaplastic cell type. Left alone, chances are extremely high that the cancer would return. Henry's regimen will include two additional rounds of chemotherapy, each with their own recipe consisting of differing agents. The use of different agents decreases the likelihood that a cancer cell may have resistance to the chemotherapy drugs used.
Near term, Henry will likely face the loss of a significant enough portion of his hearing that he will require a hearing aid. One of the drugs used has already shown Henry's susceptibility to it and we will need to use a much higher dose to have the best chance at eradicating his cancer, but only for one cycle as its planned now. This judicious use may prevent total hearing loss without compromising efficacy.
Henry will be unable to return home for the duration of his chemotherapy. He will spend 3 weeks in the hospital having the therapy administered and his stem cell transplant. Whereas in the first three cycles, his system had its nadir for approximately 4 days, during this treatment, his system will be compromised for much longer during which he'll stay in the hospital as the risk of leaving is too high. We will then be discharged but because of the state of his immune system, he must be within a quick drive to the hospital and therefore must stay nearby. This will be true after our final discharge after the second high dose cycle as well.
The chemotherapy will also break down his immune system's memory for many months. He will have to be re-vaccinated in about a year's time. Long term, Henry will likely be unable to have children. He will be susceptible to other malignancies as well, such as leukemia or skin cancers for which he'll have to have annual systemic testing.
After these two cycles of high dose chemotherapy, a similar battery of tests will be performed to assess the state of Henry's cancer. We cannot hope for a better reading that that of late, the best result for Henry's type the transplant doctor said he's seen. So the best case scenario is that we can find no evidence of the cancer cells, but even that result does not eliminate the possibility. Recurrence is the fear for any cancer patient. So then, we wait.
We will find out soon, exactly when we start this journey. I'm sure it won't be without its obstacles - some of which we've already climbed or skated past. As for Henry, we're planning on holding his hand up and down every mountain.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Finding the Needle in the Haystack
Wow - yesterday was a long day at Hopkins for not having more to do than we did. A couple of our tests have even been postponed until next week. All that we had to do yesterday was get Henry's hearing test and a special treat that had been arranged for us.
That special treat was a photo shoot done by Flashes of Hope, an organization that provides photography for children with cancer. They provide the photo shoot and all the proofs to the family at no cost. I didn't really know what to think of it at first, but as with all things, I came to find out that the people doing this really had their hearts in it and once I saw some of the sample photos, I realized what a valuable gift this would be. Henry did great with the photos and they had me sit in on a couple of them with him too. It was very touching. He ate up all the attention they were giving him. There were clowns there to entertain those waiting and to draw smiles out of the children being photographed. Henry really pushed the clowns to their limits, "Daddy, ask the clowns if they have any more cricks". We'll share the photos once we receive them, about 4-6 weeks.
We grabbed some lunch at the cafeteria and headed over to Henry's hearing test. It seems he's lost a little more hearing, one more pitch, the audiologist told us. Apparently the drug can continue to affect hearing for up to 180 days after the treatment. The dosing to come is what is worrisome, but we'll deal with that as it comes. This news came alongside some other good news, all the tests that Henry had Tuesday came back negative - meaning that no sign of the cancer was present in his spinal fluid or in his bone marrow. His EKG and echo were normal as well. So far so good. We're still scheduled for continued high dose chemotherapy because these tests, while good results, are not fully conclusive as they're samples. We keep reminding ourselves that Henry's type of medulloblastoma is anaplastic, a very aggressive subtype. All that it takes is one cancer cell to persist and we'll have major setbacks. Talk about a needle in a haystack.
After our audiology test we had to revisit the clinic to pick up some paperwork. We had applied for a weekend away sponsored by the "Believe in Tomorrow" organization, the same organization that hosted us across the street from the hospital during our initial diagnosis and surgery. The forms are required to be signed by the doctors to confirm eligibility. This is the most ominous form I've ever seen, although we're seeing more of the same kind, with check boxes like
Anyway, before Henry and I left the building, the wonderful social worker chased us down and announced that we had a house at the beach for the weekend. So today we're stealing the kids from school early and will take off for Ocean City. It will be a nice quiet weekend away before starting this second phase of chemotherapy, a retreat of sorts to let the kids be kids before we ask the girls to shoulder the burden of being shuffled around for the months ahead and Henry to endure his treatments.
That special treat was a photo shoot done by Flashes of Hope, an organization that provides photography for children with cancer. They provide the photo shoot and all the proofs to the family at no cost. I didn't really know what to think of it at first, but as with all things, I came to find out that the people doing this really had their hearts in it and once I saw some of the sample photos, I realized what a valuable gift this would be. Henry did great with the photos and they had me sit in on a couple of them with him too. It was very touching. He ate up all the attention they were giving him. There were clowns there to entertain those waiting and to draw smiles out of the children being photographed. Henry really pushed the clowns to their limits, "Daddy, ask the clowns if they have any more cricks". We'll share the photos once we receive them, about 4-6 weeks.
We grabbed some lunch at the cafeteria and headed over to Henry's hearing test. It seems he's lost a little more hearing, one more pitch, the audiologist told us. Apparently the drug can continue to affect hearing for up to 180 days after the treatment. The dosing to come is what is worrisome, but we'll deal with that as it comes. This news came alongside some other good news, all the tests that Henry had Tuesday came back negative - meaning that no sign of the cancer was present in his spinal fluid or in his bone marrow. His EKG and echo were normal as well. So far so good. We're still scheduled for continued high dose chemotherapy because these tests, while good results, are not fully conclusive as they're samples. We keep reminding ourselves that Henry's type of medulloblastoma is anaplastic, a very aggressive subtype. All that it takes is one cancer cell to persist and we'll have major setbacks. Talk about a needle in a haystack.
After our audiology test we had to revisit the clinic to pick up some paperwork. We had applied for a weekend away sponsored by the "Believe in Tomorrow" organization, the same organization that hosted us across the street from the hospital during our initial diagnosis and surgery. The forms are required to be signed by the doctors to confirm eligibility. This is the most ominous form I've ever seen, although we're seeing more of the same kind, with check boxes like
Is the child's diseaseSeeing 'life-threatening' checked made me realize the kind of denial that we live in. It shouldn't have shocked me to see it, but it did.
- life threatening
- life long
- in maintenance
Anyway, before Henry and I left the building, the wonderful social worker chased us down and announced that we had a house at the beach for the weekend. So today we're stealing the kids from school early and will take off for Ocean City. It will be a nice quiet weekend away before starting this second phase of chemotherapy, a retreat of sorts to let the kids be kids before we ask the girls to shoulder the burden of being shuffled around for the months ahead and Henry to endure his treatments.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Battery of Tests
It was early to bed for Henry last night as we had an early start this morning. We arrived at the clinic before the receptionist and early enough that we got to feed the fish. His appointment was for 8:15am to draw blood and prepare him for his first test. Today was to bring a lot of testing.
For the first test, Henry was atypically resistant to the nurse's attempts to get him up into the bed for anesthesia. Henry's a good judge of character and I had already assessed this nurse as being a bit brusque. Fortunately the anesthesiologist, whom we've had - and liked - before, offered to give his sedative in his stroller through his tubes of course. He was quickly asleep. Mercifully, three of the five tests Henry was to have today would be done during this sedation. Two of the tests, the bone marrow biopsy and the bone marrow aspiration, comprise the bone marrow examination to check for metastasis of the medulloblastoma. The product of this test must be sent to California for processing. The other test during this morning sedation was his lumbar puncture.
He awoke from these after about half an hour of rest and was very pleasant and didn't complain of any pain the rest of the day. We grabbed some lunch and spent the afternoon taking care of his heart tests. He had an EKG and an echo cardiogram. The former is quick, the latter is long. Luckily they are very kid-friendly there and put on a kid video for him to watch during this procedure. The technician seemed to think everything looked normal but the formal report will be available to our doctor soon.
We headed home after our day of tests and stopped for Chik-fil-a. After not eating all morning, Henry made up for it the rest of the day with pizza, chicken and gummy worms. He remained in a terrific mood the rest of the day. I crashed when I got home and woke up for dinner - Henry was still going at 100 miles an hour. It's just been about 10 minutes ago that he finally quieted down.
Tomorrow we are to collect a 24-hour urine for him to test his kidney function. I tell Henry that the nurses love to see his pee! Thursday we'll have a CT scan of his sinuses to check for infections, a chest x-ray to ensure that his catheter is still well placed, and another hearing test to project any additional or potential hearing loss.
I think back on our first chemotherapy and how Henry wouldn't even wear the mask outside the hospital room to go play. Now he tells us when he needs the mask, he goes for hours without eating to prepare for testing, and places vials on his catheter to draw his own blood. What a change! We're so proud of Henry!
For the first test, Henry was atypically resistant to the nurse's attempts to get him up into the bed for anesthesia. Henry's a good judge of character and I had already assessed this nurse as being a bit brusque. Fortunately the anesthesiologist, whom we've had - and liked - before, offered to give his sedative in his stroller through his tubes of course. He was quickly asleep. Mercifully, three of the five tests Henry was to have today would be done during this sedation. Two of the tests, the bone marrow biopsy and the bone marrow aspiration, comprise the bone marrow examination to check for metastasis of the medulloblastoma. The product of this test must be sent to California for processing. The other test during this morning sedation was his lumbar puncture.
He awoke from these after about half an hour of rest and was very pleasant and didn't complain of any pain the rest of the day. We grabbed some lunch and spent the afternoon taking care of his heart tests. He had an EKG and an echo cardiogram. The former is quick, the latter is long. Luckily they are very kid-friendly there and put on a kid video for him to watch during this procedure. The technician seemed to think everything looked normal but the formal report will be available to our doctor soon.
We headed home after our day of tests and stopped for Chik-fil-a. After not eating all morning, Henry made up for it the rest of the day with pizza, chicken and gummy worms. He remained in a terrific mood the rest of the day. I crashed when I got home and woke up for dinner - Henry was still going at 100 miles an hour. It's just been about 10 minutes ago that he finally quieted down.
Tomorrow we are to collect a 24-hour urine for him to test his kidney function. I tell Henry that the nurses love to see his pee! Thursday we'll have a CT scan of his sinuses to check for infections, a chest x-ray to ensure that his catheter is still well placed, and another hearing test to project any additional or potential hearing loss.
I think back on our first chemotherapy and how Henry wouldn't even wear the mask outside the hospital room to go play. Now he tells us when he needs the mask, he goes for hours without eating to prepare for testing, and places vials on his catheter to draw his own blood. What a change! We're so proud of Henry!
Friday, February 1, 2008
"Excellent"
"It looks excellent!" Tara said to me as she was talking to the oncologist on our trip home from Baltimore for Henry's MRI. The relief was palpable. The day itself was not so stressful, in fact Henry was a trooper - hardly complaining about not being able to eat all morning - but the weeks and months leading up to this moment, knowing it was coming, afraid for the results, yet hopeful, but wary...We'd prepared for lukewarm news. The first read of the scan reports that all of the cancer that previously surrounded the lining of Henry's brain is gone. In addition, there is no recurrence at the original tumor site. The areas on his spine that were noted on his original MRI remain, but look smaller and less significant. It is unclear if they represent cancer cells or something less ominous like scarring or inflammation.
This quickly crystallized in my head to mean that the chemotherapy is working brilliantly. We will continue with the high-dose treatment as planned after some follow up testing next week. Other conclusions washed over me as we continued the drive home. The odds for Henry's survival go up. The chance of needing radiation therapy go down, sparing him the threat of brain damage or other dysfunctions. As difficult as the next phase of chemotherapy will be, we'll have the comfort of knowing, not just guessing, that its working. Sheaves of worry lifted from my shoulders as I considered it all. Tears in my eyes, but why? Just happy I guess. We were braced for harsh reality and got handed another chance.
This quickly crystallized in my head to mean that the chemotherapy is working brilliantly. We will continue with the high-dose treatment as planned after some follow up testing next week. Other conclusions washed over me as we continued the drive home. The odds for Henry's survival go up. The chance of needing radiation therapy go down, sparing him the threat of brain damage or other dysfunctions. As difficult as the next phase of chemotherapy will be, we'll have the comfort of knowing, not just guessing, that its working. Sheaves of worry lifted from my shoulders as I considered it all. Tears in my eyes, but why? Just happy I guess. We were braced for harsh reality and got handed another chance.
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