Julian and I . . . .
Julian opening presents. . .
Marie, Julian & Josie Marie and Josie . . .
Last week we received the news from Julian's Bone Marrow aspiration that they could not find any cancer in him!! Another bonus was that on the next appointment they labeled him, what I could only pray to hear - Julian is in Remission. Needless to say, Julian gave me the best Christmas present in the world.
Although there had not been any super serious complications from the course of treatment for his Leukemia, and his chances for survival were originally at 85%. As a statistician that sounds pretty good. But as a father of a that child, 15% is far too great. As the course of treatment consumed everything - I was just glad that he was still here. The alternative was just too painful to contemplate.
On the Odds. . . . . .
Once you get into a dance with his treatment, keeping communication lines open with the Doctors, getting frustrated with last minute changes to appointments, reading as much as I can about where we are headed with his disease. All the sudden would stagger out of the deep woods and you are standing in front of the abyss of reality. This is the moment of analyzing the Bone Marrow draw, looking to see if the 1-out-of-9,999 cancer cells has dropped, or is gone. If that count was now anything greater than ONE it meant that the Bone Marrow Transplant did not work. So in my mind the chance was now at 50%. Either it worked , or it didn't. I knew that we were at a fork in the river where it would be another life changing turn for all of our futures. Either we were headed for the smooth waters of the Yakima River in late summer, or to some dark ravine with Class V rapids throwing us into the unknown.
About survival. . . . . .
The USS Pollyanna left the dock on May 22nd, 2008. Hope I believed in, my Faith in doubt, my Love for my son ever present. We received a lot of news during the past 8 months that made many people deliriously positive. But I could not find that joy. I have spent too much time at Children's seeing so many very young children being so sick that they could not walk, seeing the delicate framed quilts, hanging frozen in time telling stories of children that did not make the transition to remission. I talked to a little girl at the Hemoc Clinic who thought she was "lucky" because she was now 8 and the Doctors told her she would not live to be 5 - I felt I was the lucky one. The timing that God gave me to be at these places, and at those times to meet these innocent children faced with a seemingly bleak future. I do not know what is in Julian's future any more than I know what is in the future for any of my other 6 children and 2 grandchildren. But, I have come to believe in today. Today, I will live like this could be my last day. Today, I will do what I can to make a difference for someone in need. Today, I am indeed the luckiest father in the world.
Everyday I will appreciate how blessed I am to have the amazing support of my friends and family.
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