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.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

The Logan Update: 10/8/10

I feel really angry and frustrated, so this will be brief.

Logan is still at the hospital, and I have no idea when we'll be able to bring him home. His temperature hit 102 this evening, so it's likely than we can kiss Monday good-bye.

I hate that I can't have my whole family with me.

I hate that my son could die.

I hate that I'm a member of this incredibly shitty club comprised of people who are being completely and utterly screwed.

I hate that I have to bite my tongue 100 times a day whenever someone says something stupid.

I hate that every time we get a mustard seed of good news, it's almost immediately followed by bad news.

I hate that I'm dealing with yet another challenge in my life. I've already dealt with a lot. I DON'T NEED another trip though the ringer.

I hate that we're spending $1,000 a month on PARKING and GAS. WTF? JUST parking and gas is eating up a huge chunk of our income and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

I hate that there are approximately 400 people here on my friends list who haven't bothered to contact me AT ALL over the course of the past 8 weeks. You know, the WORST EIGHT WEEKS OF MY LIFE. I don't care if you don't know what to say. IT MAKES IT WORSE WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE YOUR FRIENDS DON'T CARE even enough to click a freakin' Like button.

I hate that I'm sitting here 'waiting on God' when it's beginning to feel like He doesn't care about any of this. I WANT to give HIM the finger the same way it feels like He's giving it to me.

I hate being the one going through hell that everyone else can look at and say 'that's awful; I'm praying but I'm so glad it's not me'.


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