Tag: MRI

Of Looking Back, Looking Forward, and Very Loud Noises

“I’m afraid, Mom.  It’s going to be really loud, isn’t it?”  Chase, cuddled on the couch this chill December afternoon, voices his worries… 

Three quarters of a century ago today, terrible things happened half a world away and boats sank and people died and the country went to war again.  December 7.

Six years ago, late in the evening, as the sounds of the Christmas music barely faded in the halls of the church, I rushed to the hospital and Aidan was born and there was joy and a new baby son.  December 7.

And now, we sit on the couch under the shadow of the almost-winter clouds and there’s another shadow too.  Tomorrow comes the MRI and we sit and talk because today, on December 7 – day of all sorts of remembrance – we sit and look ahead and not back because tomorrow they’ll peer inside his white head again and see if there’s been any change in six weeks.

It’s poetic and strange how life weaves the beauty and pain in every memory of each moment and they’re all mixed together in a life symphony that requires unending grace.

Chase is scared and rightfully so.  Tomorrow will mark his first “awake” MRI in two years.  It’ll be mercifully short, but for 5-10 minutes, he will have to face one of his worst fears.  The noise.  It will surround him and he knows it and he’s frightened.  He can’t escape it and this child who is never still must lay perfectly quiet in his terror for 5-10 minutes or an eternity – whichever comes first – yet another time in his little cancer life when the only way out is through.  And how our hearts wish to cover him from this, but we cannot.   So, through it, he goes.  And he says “Jesus will be with me…and Daddy too.”

As you think of Chase tonight and tomorrow, will you please pray for him?  Pray for peace to surround him as he goes into this very hard place and does this very hard thing?  …and then, pray for us as our challenge comes moments after the MRI when we speak and decide over the pictures with his neurosurgeon.

Moment by moment…

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” Isaiah 26:3

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Stable

In pre op waiting for the MRI to be available so Chase could proceed with anesthesia
In pre op waiting for the MRI to be available so Chase could proceed with anesthesia

After a very long day that included an inner ear procedure, waiting over an hour for the MRI, almost three hours under anesthesia, and a painful peripheral IV in the arm (instead of accessing Chase’s port), we received an early, unofficial word from the hospital last night: Chase’s MRI results were still being read, but there was no evidence of new tumor growth.  However, there was still a question about the areas of fluid retention and cavernomas (effects of surgery and radiation)…

Removing the painful IV
Removing the painful IV

This morning, we received the second and final call.  The official word is “stable” on all fronts!

There may have been some very minor changes to the cavernomas, but nothing of concern at this point and the areas of fluid are virtually unchanged.  We will have the chance to view the MRI and discuss all of this more in depth next week with Chase’s neuro-oncologist and his neurosurgeon in his routine follow ups.

Taking vitals in post op recovery - and getting to eat for the first time in 9 hours!
Taking vitals in post op recovery – and getting to eat for the first time in 9 hours!

Praising God in awe.   Some days, I still can’t believe Chase has survived 21 months after an advanced AT/RT diagnosis.

Thank you again for your prayer and encouragement as we take this…

Moment by moment.

In the car, on the way home. A long day for a very brave boy.
In the car, on the way home. A long day for a very brave boy.

Open Hands

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The shadow has descended again and I’ve found myself unable to write because of it.  Three whole months have passed like the snap of a finger and once again, we stand in front of the two doors: the next MRI is in less than 48 hours.

Technically, the shadow of relapse is always with us, but we feel it ever so strongly the week before the MRI.  I wasn’t going to write because I’ve had no words -only fears and fighting fears- and I’ve wanted to be silent in my thoughts and prayers until after the results are known.  However, today, I was reminded to open my hands.  To relinquish again the dread of the unknown to the One who knows.

So, tonight, I finally sit and write.  I still fear much and fight the fear, but today, I opened by hands – a thing I haven’t done in too long.  I needed this reminder that Chase is not ours to keep.  In fact, none of our precious littles are.  They are our entrusted treasures and we are their stewards.  We’ve gathered them around us in front of the two doors and we wait… with open hands.

Moment by moment. 

The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.  Psalm 24:1 [NIV]

Six Week Joy

Chase’s cancer treatment calls for a sixth week evaluation.

It’s hard to wrap my head around having had six straight weeks of chemo already.
We spoke with the research fellow on Chase’s team yesterday and the preliminary look at his 6 week MRI showed no new cancer growth (a very real concern with an aggressive, malignant cancer) and the existing areas of cancer to be slightly decreased.

JOY.

We won’t know the full impact of these findings until after they are reviewed (probably next week) by all the relevant specialties (oncology, radiology, neurology, etc), but we are so encouraged even by what we have already heard… The chemo is working.

JOY.

I often close my thoughts with this, as it never ceases to be less true to us:

We don’t know what lies ahead, but we continue as we have…

MOMENT BY MOMENT.

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