About Us

Our family of 6 (dad Adam, mom Sherry, big sister Abby and little brothers Isaac and Brady -- who was born on December 14, 2010) joined the ranks of pediatric cancer fighters when our 4-year old son Logan was diagnosed with a dangerous and highly malignant form of brain cancer in mid-August 2010. Logan's cancer journey began abruptly on Sunday, August 15, when his right eye suddenly turned inward during dinner. Twenty-four hours later, we were checking into Children's Hospital Oakland and finding out that life sometimes takes you places you'd never, ever imagine yourself going.

Monday, November 8, 2010

The Logan Update: 10/2/10

It's 9:09 PM and I have a cat perched next to me and a rowdy baby in my belly. Abby and Isaac are theoretically asleep (or, at least if they're not, they're being quiet about it) and the lights are off, so I'm sitting in the dark with my Netbook.

I can say unequivocably that today was better than yesterday. Logan was asleep when I arrived this morning, but he'd been to the playroom (on his own accord!) and enjoyed playing with a big car ramp there so I was pleased to hear about it. When he finally awoke, he spent most of the afternoon (as in every 15 minutes, literally) walking back and forth to the bathroom, which was a little tiring for me; I'm in my third trimester now which means rapid growth, and I'm definitely starting to feel it. Fortunately he's walking well on his own right now, but dragging his IV pole along and repeatedly untangling the lines, removing pants, wiping, etc. took its toll. He's still in a shared room (on his second roommate -- this one is much quieter than the original!) so I also spent a lot of time reminding him that screaming and yelling wasn't a good thing to do, since we need to try to be polite to the boy behind the curtain. He asked more than once when he could go home and 'be all done' at the hospital; he said he'd had a good time at home and missed it. I just sort of sighed and said that I knew, and that he needed to get all better first. It's just hard on so many levels.

Anyway, pee, diarrhea and whining aside, I'm pleased to say that he didn't vomit on my watch, despite having eaten a carrot stick and a bag of Goldfish crackers. I'm happy that he held them down for sure and hope that it continues into tomorrow. Tonight, he's set to receive the Big Dog drug -- the last one of the cycle: Methotrexate. This is the one that I'm not to touch under any circumstances because it's extremely toxic and extremely dangerous for pregnant women. I'm a little nervous because it takes 3 to 5 days to clear from his system, and basically is excreted from, well, everywhere: Pee, sweat, you name it. The nurses where we are in the non-immunocompromised ward aren't nearly as responsive to calls as those in the other wing, so I'm very, very nervous that I'm going to wind up stuck with him screaming that he has to pee but being unable to help. I've already had issues with some of the nurses this week not really understanding how dangerous chemo drugs are to ME right now, so please pray that they'll be responsive and that they won't be insensitive to our needs.

Just because you know how much I love my anecdotes, I thought I'd share a quick one before going. Abby wanted to red stores from her children's Bible this evening. Three were randomly selected, and two were focused specifically on Jesus healing those in need. First up was the story of the paralyzed man whose friends lowered him through the roof, and the second was the tale of the 10 lepers. It was an encouraging little reminder of a truth that I've had a hard time believing of late. And once again, the message was delivered via something directed at young children.

I'm pooped so I'm out for now. Thank you for your continued prayers. They really do carry us.

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