Tag: Dr. Lulla

Past, Present, and Future

Dearest Dr. Lulla,

Thank you.

Thank you for giving us hope where there was none.

Thank you for reacting to our shattering news as if it was your own – even though you do it over and over again with each family.

Thank you for being a clinical advocate – taking on each and every problem with a precision and logic that cut through the fear.

[credit: Jan Terry]

Thank you for knowing when to scrap the clinical and look us in the eyes as suffering human beings, not just the nearest and dearest to a medical chart waiting to be updated.

Thank you for backing us up and encouraging us to trust our gut instincts.

Thank you for letting us cry.

Thank you for giving us permission to laugh.

Thank you for being an encourager – always pushing us to see the very best and beautiful in the hospital staff around us.

Thank you for learning our names, our lives, and remembering them.

Thank you for learning every nickname we ever gave Chase and what he was like as a person – all on the outside chance that he might not scream at you when you came into the room.

Thank you for learning the names of Chase’s siblings and pieces of their stories – a heart-wrenching acknowledgement that Chase was not in a void and there was a different life outside the cancer.

Thank you for fighting for our future.

Thank you for investing in our present.

Thank you for seeing Chase as a life to be lived.

Thank you for being our advocate.

Thank you for all the things you did that we’ll never fully know or understand.

You somehow make the unthinkable more bearable, and for that, you will always and forever be considered a trusted friend and a precious member of our family.

Love always,

The Ewoldt Family

Today, Wednesday, January 25, 2017 marked the end of an era. Chase has been off chemotherapy and the scans have overall been stable for so very long that it is time: Chase’s file is being transferred from the regular neuro-oncology clinic to a place called the STAR clinic. The “S” in “STAR” stands for “survivor”. Chase is now officially considered a survivor of his cancer. I can hardly breathe for writing those words! And while he will still see many of the same teams of doctors (and there will be many teams – as Chase still fights a great many things), there will be one very significant change: today was Chase’s last official appointment with Dr. Rishi Lulla, the attending neuro-oncologist who has overseen his case from the first moments of July 31, 2012. We consider it the highest honor to have had Dr. Lulla oversee Chase’s treatment and care and we hope to see him in the halls of the hospital some day soon! 

[credit: Dr. William Hartsell]

Farther Along

Farther along we’ll know all about it
Farther along we’ll understand why
Cheer up my brothers, live in the sunshine
We’ll understand this, all by and by… Josh Garrels

The word is in and the news is out: we’ve been given the gift of more time. It’s a heady feeling and a deep one too as the responsibility of shepherding such an incredible, atypical life is something we do not take lightly.

In the last two days, Chase has had a complete brain and spine MRI, an ECHO, a hearing test, a procedure to clean his ears and check for tubes, and a hearing re-test – in addition to meeting with his endocrinology and neuro-oncology teams. The days have been physically and emotionally packed and Chase did an AMAZING job – even undergoing an IV and the MRI sedation process with less medicine than usual; a decision that made him far more cognizant during needle pain and separation from us.

Chase’s hearing is going, but is stable for now (no more excuses about “not hearing you say to clean up, Mom“…) and the ventricles of his heart are strong (something we do not take for granted in a post-chemo body).

And now, the moment of truth: the MRI…

STABLE.

The monitored growths continue to expand, but all teams involved feel optimistic that they don’t show cancer characteristics. The biggest concern right now is that the largest growth is getting close to a ventricle and that scenario requires both careful monitoring and possible intervention. There are also a few cavernomas (a cluster of abnormal blood cells) that are making themselves known and grown on the last few scans and those too will bear watching. In other words, for good, bad, and broken, Chase’s brain is showing the scars of its battle wounds.

This farther along day brings some answers, some more oxygen with which to breath, and a few things on which to take action.

First, while Chase’s official scans will be moved to even further intervals (a year!), he still needs to have small scans of the ventricles every six months to monitor growths and cavernomas.

Now, it is the time to prayerfully, carefully pursue growth hormone with the endocrine team as Chase’s poor, little body can’t do this on its own. More on this in the coming months, I know.

And last, well, the last thing I have to tell you deserves it’s very own written space. Stay tuned…

Moment by moment.

Chase checks out his MRI films with Dr. Lulla and Dr. Hartsell

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