A Brief History Of A Long Road

DO YOU EVER WONDER HOW IT ALL STARTED…??

On Sunday, Chase’s marks ten years of cancer fighting. TEN YEARS is quite the journey, dear ones, isn’t it? In case you’ve joined us more recently, or in case you’re curious or it’s been a while… here’s what brought us to this place:

Just before dawn on Tuesday, July 31, 2012, a six-year-old Darcy woke us to complain that Chase – only two and still in his crib – was “moving around and won’t stop”. 

“El…! You need to come here! Chase is having a seizure!” The mix of deadly calm and worry in Bob’s words propelled me from the bed before my eyes were fully open, heart racing. 

And just like that, we woke to the first day of a completely different life, never to return to the one we had known ’til then.

Within hours, we would learn that there was “a large mass” shoving one half of his brain into the other (causing the seizure) and that the hospital we had been taken to by the ambulance wasn’t equipped to deal with cases on this level.

By noon, Chase had been transferred downtown to the brand new Ann & Robert H. Lurie Children’s Hospital of Chicago facility. 

Within hours of the transfer, we had learned that he was having near constant invisible seizures and he was moved to the intensive care unit. 

By early Thursday morning, 48 hours later, we had signed papers, said goodbye, and handed our little boy to a team of neurosurgeons.

The surgery was mercifully short as brain surgeries go (under four hours), but the news was a worst case scenario: While the initial tumor had been successfully removed, Chase’s lead neurosurgeon gently explained that the pathology was not only deeply malignant, but also highly aggressive, and that he had actually visualized cancer cells all over the top of his brain…too numerous to be removed. The scans backed up the doctor’s assessment. There was cancer all over the brain, in the spinal fluid, and lining the spinal column. 

The plans were placed, the words were guarded, and nobody expected Chase to survive his third birthday. 

But he would…

The next nearly two years brought seemingly endless complications, procedures, and days spent living in the hospital. We moved in with my parents, who cared for our other three children. Chase went through so much chemo, so many days of radiation, and bag after bag of transfusions – so many interventions that Bob and I l have since lost count.

He finished treatment sixteen months to the day after starting and immediately began extensive therapies to improve his quality of life. 

He could speak, but he didn’t understand what words meant. 

He wasn’t growing.

He couldn’t hear well.

He couldn’t see well. 

He had almost no short term memory.

And we were informed that these would most likely be just the beginning of side effects. 

There were routine scans every few months.

A year later, the MRI picked up a small growth and we battled relapse fear – another MRI after six of the longest weeks of our lives showing what was most likely a radiation damage and he was diagnosed with benign tumors/cavernous malformations.

The next summer, he was officially diagnosed with significant hearing loss.

The following spring, he had two separate surgeries to remove cataracts and try to improve his vision. 

Three weeks after the first cataract surgery occurred in 2016, Tyndale House Publishers published my labor of love – “Chase Away Cancer” – the story of those first six years and some of the lessons we’d learned along the way.

We settled into post cancer complications and life.

A little over two years later (after the longest season of only routine appointments and few emergencies) an MRI pick up strange thyroid growths and in the last week of January, 2019, Chase was diagnosed with thyroid cancer and had his entire thyroid removed. 

A few months later, Chase had his first visible seizure in seven years. 

Only weeks later, his thyroid site showed cancer in a couple of surrounding lymph nodes and despite a full body scan showing the spread to be contained to the thyroid area, Chase was scheduled for radioactive iodine therapy two weeks before Thanksgiving. 

Since that time, despite frequent health anomalies that seem to require lots of appointments, tests, and even occasional surgeries and procedures, Chase continues with his two-cancer diagnosis – the primary never having relapsed, the secondary having been stopped from spreading. 

We have no idea what comes next. Although we will be meeting with a genetic specialist in September to try and better understand why Chase’s body succumbs to proliferating cells the way it does and if we can possibly protect him from ever having another diagnosis.

His story has been shared from teary hospital rooms to history-packed halls of the White House. And if we’ve learned one thing in ten years, it’s that Chase is a precious law unto himself, a broken, beautiful story that only God himself knows completely.

As always, thank you for coming on this journey with us. 

Moment by moment. 

[Chase’s family includes Dad (Bob), Mom (Ellie – who is the primary writer on CAC), older sister Darcy (16), older brother Aidan (13), and younger brother Karsten (10)] 

THANK YOU

See us running and hugging and freaking out a little? …crazy joy smiles on our faces?

Today, that’s what we’re doing because 1) our miracle boy turned 12 years old yesterday, and 2) because you put together the MOST AMAZING action in the last two days.

In less than 48 hours, the Chase Away Cancer community and friends gathered OVER $13,000 for Lurie Children’s Hospital and the Anthony Rizzo Family Foundation in honor of Chase’s 12 years!

You guys!

YOU DID IT!!!!!

I wish you could have heard the gasp Chase let out when I told him the news.

Dear ones… this was a VERY GOOD THING that happened this weekend.

From the bottom of our hearts –

THANK YOU

Moment by moment

[all photos: Margaret Henry Photography]

Eight Years

Ever since 2012, July 31st has been the hardest of lovely days to us because it ripped us apart and then stands to remind us every year that we are all still breathing. Because eight years ago, on July 31st, an emergency room doctor was walking into Chase’s room with tears in his eyes, speaking the words over us that changed everything:

“There’s a large mass.”

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

A few days before this strange anniversary day, Darcy and I were walking, trying to carve out a minute to ourselves, talking through the date, the memories, and how it still – even these eight years later – carves us open. [She, this sister girl child that we -perhaps foolishly in our own fear- told to stay in her bed in the dark, is a fourteen year old high school freshman and the sight of flashing lights outside her bedroom window as she curled powerless and scared still hold a vivid place in her mind.] But as Darcy and I walked, talked and processed again, Margaret pulled alongside us. She literally pulled alongside us in her car as we walked and she drove by and as we talked, friend Margaret, a wonderfully gifted photographer, smiled and said lovingly:

“We should take pictures. Eight years is a big deal and we should make it special this way.”

And so, a day later, we gathered at the local park, just Margaret, the kids, and me, and she walked them through a few minutes of life, with her words giving them grace and her camera catching them as they moved. 
There were no showers, no hair cuts, no scrubbing up and making beautiful. Chase insisted it be “Cubs theme” and we just grabbed (hopefully clean) clothes out of drawers and went with it. 

And suddenly, the shadow of late July lifted for a moment. We put aside the awful memories we experienced those eight years ago, and lived in the joy that is having eight whole years when you didn’t think you’d have any. 
The perspective changed through the lens of a camera and a moment of stolen time.

We see the heartbreak, yes. Always.
But we choose joy

And sometimes it takes someone pulling alongside you to catch the light a certain way and hand it to you when you need it most. 

So here’s to eight years.
I will never stop being both horrified and amazed at this life of grace we’ve been given.

“Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me… let me be singing when the evening comes.”

10,000 Reasons (Bless The Lord), Matt Redman

Thank you for walking alongside us, dear ones. 
Moment by moment. 

[Please enjoy these beautiful, candid gifts that Margaret Henry Photography gave us this week ]

Of Procrastination, Sarcasm, and Staying Out Of The ER

Incredibly, 2019 is down to being measured in hours and minutes – the end of both a year and a decade. This year has seen us through many, many new things and all along, we have prayed for the strength to choose joy. You’ve spent the year crying with us, so now, I invite you to laugh. And to that end, I’ve compiled a few status updates from my Facebook page.

I chronicle these things (and have done so for many years now) because life is too short and childhood is even shorter and there are too many parenting moments when you’re faced with the choice of either laughing or melting into a puddle of tears. …and that’s all without even touching illness and hospital days and the simple act of processing it all. So, as much as possible, despite the changes… we choose joy. And we choose to laugh. 

Many of the scenarios include personal hashtags: from the most common – #LifeWithBoys, to the most sarcastic [playing off our secret parenting fears] #NotScholarshipMaterial, as well as a few guest appearances by legendary grandfather, Ed Poole.

Did you just hit your brother in the [inappropriate content] with a roll of wrapping paper?? #FaLaLaLaLotsofTherapy #LifeWithBoys…but make it Christmas

HOW MANY TIMES…

  • …have we talked about not licking the walls?
  • …have I told you to keep your ever-loving eyes open when you’re running??
  • …that punching each other is not a viable communication technique?
  • …that your dirty socks don’t magically clean themselves in whatever god forsaken corner of the house you left them in?
  • …that you can’t FaceTime me to fix you a sandwich? Ever?
  • …that your can’t wear shorts when it’s 30 degrees no matter how much it breaks your heart?
  • …that your life isn’t over even if you can’t get your armpits to make fart noises?
  • …that if you don’t wear underwear, you might catch something in the zipper?

“I have a question, Mom – if that even is your real name…” #LifeWithChase

“Here, Mom. I got this paper a week ago, but I accidentally left it in my back pack and it has to be filled out by tomorrow, so, you know, you should probably look at it now…” #LifeWithBoys

“You know that’s not true! I would never hit him in the — wait, can I go back and try to say it again with a straight face?” #LifeWithBoys

“Oh my word, boys! If you don’t stop it right now, somebody’s going to get hurt!!”

[awkward crickets]

“Uh, that’s kind of the point, Mom.”

Hi, yes, we are handling football season very well over here… how are you…? #NoFightingLater #NuancedFierceLooks #NotoriouslyFlamingLambeau #NaughtyFlatulentLads

“Don’t worry, Mom. I won’t be tempted to talk to you while I’m doing my math homework. It’s not like you can help me with it or anything.” #TheOGNotScholarshipMaterial #SchoolForTheGifted

“I am in so much pain.”
“Are you really?”
“I think I tore something in my knee.”
“Probably not.”
“Okay, but I’m almost sure I tore my ACL.”
“No.”
“Everything is torn.”
“Still no.”
“Well, for sure my heart is broken.”
“No, just no.”
“Can you sprain things? Am I sprained?” #TeenGirlSquad #DramaticEmphasis

When Bob is on the West Coast for a few days… Also, that raise. For real. 

“But why do they call it a seizure salad? Seizures are not delicious.” #ItsAMedicalLife

[overheard in the house where no doors have been changed in three years] “I didn’t know there was a door right there, and now my head hurts.” #NotScholarshipMaterial

Meanwhile, on Instagram, there are orange socks of protest.

Buy one bottle of “super disgusting” Watermelon Cucumber Lemonade, and suddenly, I’m the villain of the piece. Psh. Troglodytes. #LifeWithKids

Amen. Let us close in prayer. 🙏🏻#MondayMotivation #InspirationalQuotes #LifeWithBoys

Where do I hand in my resignation, please and thank you…? #MondayUNMotivation

“What if I put a pillow in it?”
“Nope.”
“…even if I wear a helmet?”
“Um, super no.”
“But it’s just one flight of stairs!”
“No!”
“…in a box!”
“Son!”
“But it’s not like we’ve got priceless artifacts on the walls.”
“You’re grounded forever.”
“Well, you’re a crusher of my dreams.”
“What was our ONE rule for Spring Break…?”
“I know, I know.. ‘Mom’s Not Taking Anyone To The ER’…”
“Right.”
“For the record, you never let us do anything fun.”

“Mom, wanna see a magic trick? Um, but also, it kind of includes fire… are you okay with that?” #NotScholarshipMaterial #LifeWithBoys

“I’m sorry he hurt you, but I think that’s the price of doing business when you punch him in the [inappropriate content], child.” #WhyWeDontHaveFriends #WhyWeCantHaveNiceThings

“We’ve been over this before… NO, you may not change your legal name to Aaron Rodgers Ewoldt.” #LifeWithAGreenBayFan #SendHelp

[yelling] “OKAY. HERE IS THE RULE OF THIS FOOTBALL GAME: IF YOU BREAK ANY BONES, THAT IS A FOUL.” #JonesinForTheER

“What? He tried to take my sandwich!!” – explanation for baby brother’s black eye #LifeWithBoys #KnuckleSandwich

“I think my pancreas hurts.”
“Do you even know where your pancreas is?”
“Wait, that’s a real thing? I thought it was just a made up word! I was just messing around!” #TeenGirlSquad #DramaSpleen

“But we’re trying out my new helmet!” #HeadCase #LifeWithBoys

That feeling when you’re super happy to be out of the hospital, but you’re also a little worried about your ride home… 🤣#TheLegendaryEdPoole

“I know you’re enjoying the battle, but can you die quieter? You don’t want to disturb the neighbors.” #LifeWithBoys

Goodnight and goodbye, dear old 2019 …

Moment by moment. 

“The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.”

Psalm 16:6

Sibling Speak, Pt 3 [VIDEO]

And now, this one… Only one year and five days separate their births and they were more like twins than not until cancer changed the story.

He spent his fourth birthday sitting in a hospital, recovered from his own tonsil surgery without a mom at his side (because it happened the week after Chase’s brain surgery), and used to stand by the couch and hold out his hand to the white, screaming mess of his brother, saying “It’s okay. I will hold your hand. I am here for you.” He remembers none of these things, but I do. He doesn’t know why – to this day – the sound of Chase screaming makes his own eyes well up, but I do. His soul and blood are tied to the bald boy, whether he likes it or not.

His heart breaks with the need for justice which makes him resentful sometimes and powerfully protective all the other times. He is guilt and love; rolled into one. Like Karsten and Darcy too…there are days he’s ready to end Chase, but he will gladly slay anybody else who tries. And like his father before him, he holds so much more in that head then ever comes out of his mouth.

And this one… well, when Chase goes all you-and-what-army, he does so knowing this one stands behind him every time. If you listen closely, you will hear him say Chase’s strength and the look on his face is clear – he has no idea that Chase’s strength is because of him.

The life of a cancer sibling is often a silent, supporting role. It has to be, and they do it so well. But here, in his own words, is a little of Aidan (with some off-camera Chase interaction). This is raw, unfiltered, uncut – All heart, all sibling, all laughter, all pain, all in.

Moment by moment. 

Note: The term “Bacon” is something Aidan uses to make Chase laugh when he gets angry. As you can tell from his words, Chase’s low executive functions play a big role in Aid’s relationship with him. Apparently, “Bacon” is a way to help them cope and I find I’m okay with that. 🙂