“You should elect me to the student council because I’m kind.” He curls over the paper like his long, thin fingers curl around the pencil. “Now, how do you spell those words?”
He writes, balancing the torn piece of journal paper on the back of a volume by Winston Churchill and it’s so very fitting – so classic Chase.
He is so strong and decisive as he goes into this fourth year of grade school. And he is remarkably energized considering the summer he never really had.
For, you see, the day after he left third grade, he began a few days of tests that lead to phone calls and quickly scheduled more tests, all of which lead to the discovery that Chase has more cancer in his body. They are tiny little pieces – just a few, really – in the site where the thyroid was removed and in the lymph nodes. But tiny or not, they are definitely there and are cancer.
And just as we began to truly absorb that knowledge, on the morning of June 27th, Chase had his first seizure in seven whole years. It was gentle and so small that I questioned my sanity in calling it a true seizure, and of course it ended just as the first responders hit the threshold of our front door, but that small neurological rebellion was enough to put Chase into the local hospital, where he was then transferred to his ‘home’ hospital downtown. He then spent three long days getting test after test – while we held our breath, begging and praying that there was no brain cancer relapse.
And it’s strange and awful how thyroid cancer, secondary cancer, and even the thought of relapse and spread all pale to the thought of brain cancer re-growing when you know the options to cure it and kill it are already all used up – when the head of the department puts his hand on your arm and says “It’s going to be okay no matter what happens”. Suddenly, thyroid cancer felt easy and that felt sick and wrong.
In a gift of grace, his brain and spine were clear of cancer, but not four week later, another seizure came harder, longer, and more scary, and after more meetings and tests, it was decided that there’s a good chance this is just Chase’s brain staging it’s rebellion to trauma. After all these years and all that’s been done to and for Chase, those precious few pounds inside his scarred skull finally reached its limit and so it seizes – a silent scream against all that it’s put up with over the years. And I can’t really blame it, can you? It’s just sort of amazing that it took seven whole years for the brain to reach it’s trauma limit.
And so between the seizures and the size of these new little cancer areas in Chase’s throat, everyone is a little hesitant to cut and treat. Not only is his body showing signs of its limit for the now, but the cancer is in an area that is surgically complicated – cutting in would almost assuredly damage his vocal chords and there is no guarantee that the surgeon would be able to remove it all – high risk, little to no reward, and absolutely zero guarantee that it wouldn’t have to be done again.
So we wait… literally wait for the cancer to grow big enough that the risk of keeping it in outweighs the risk of removing it. And then we say a prayer that it only grows where it lays and does not spread to his lungs, as such cancers are known to do.
How we feel about these events and how we are even now just beginning to process them as we wait for next steps and time lines are the subject of a whole different post – yet to be written – but even as we make sense of it all and sit in the battering unknown, there is a constant: God loves us as much as He did yesterday and as much as he will tomorrow. His love never fails – even when all else does.
How God can love us and allow these cancer things at the same time is a subject for yet another post – that I will write someday, I’m sure – but for the now, we choose to believe in this love that does not let us go – no matter what. It is often inexplicable, but it is ever constant, and that alone allows us to find peace in the wait.
And for now, in this moment, though weary, Chase is stable. So we give thanks, moving forward in the knowledge that we are loved.
…moment by moment.
“Could we with ink the ocean fill
And were the skies of parchment made
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade… The love of God is greater far than tongue or pen can ever tell.” – Lehman
Dear Sister in Christ, Ellie Poole Ewoldt,
I have been on your distribution list for many years, but never before responded. My heart is always
touched by your submissions, and in a limited way remembered you and your precious young Chase.
I’m sure my contact info for you has come from one of the brothers out west at the time we lived there
in Desert Hot Springs, CA. I’m a great grandpa, but not too old to pray for you and your precious boy.
“The heart knoweth its own bitterness” and you have known and have proven God’s love and mercies as few others! Praying for you dear ones! “They that know thy Name will put their trust in Thee, for Thou
Lord hast not forsaken them that seek Thee.”
Charles Krause
How I wish that you were not needing to write this story. I want you to know that I appreciate that you are sharing it with us. I started following Chase’s journey through Ellie’s Hats. I crochet for them and follow a few of the kids. I shouldn’t because it breaks my heart to hear of recurrences and the pain and suffering that these kids endure. But it is also humbling. They are so courageous in their battles. Stronger than most adults would be. I admire the kids, including Chase, and also you parents. I was blessed with 2 children and 6 grandchildren. None had cancer so I can’t know what you’re experiencing, but I can imagine. All I can do is pray for you all and tell you how much I care and am in the background cheering you on.
Hello Ellie: I first started following Chase after his name was mentioned by Vincent’s Mom, Natalie. Since then, I have saved every post for Chase and Vincent. Each day I search Facebook for new posts on both of these children. I am unable to donate money, but I am never out of prayers. I love that you are a believer, and I love your writing. Please know that I will continue to keep up with your battle and keep you in my prayers. We serve a Mighty God.