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.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

The Logan Update: A Much Saner Hour, 8/29/10

My mind is a bit of a whirling dervish this evening, with thoughts of many an ilk shooting to and fro. It should be cacophonous, but for whatever reason it's not: It's almost soothing, almost normal. I'm finding that it's better to have lots of ideas all at once than none at all. Plainly put, it keeps me calm. More sane.

Today was better than yesterday, which was better than the day before. I didn't really feel that way earlier as I sat on the stairs crying out my frustration and sadness and fear. It was Adam who spoke the words, and after mulling the notion for a while, I had to agree.

We started today with a goal: To not all Logan to lie on the couch watching Tiny Toons all day. That's what he did yesterday, and to me, it was unacceptable to watch him sliding in and out of wakefulness, eyes glazed over, for a second day in a row. So we asked him what he'd like to do, and he replied, after a little whining intermixed with a little thought, that he wanted a new Cars backpack. Perfect. Oddly enough, thanks to a random posting on the Mom's Club chat board that I just happened to see and mentally digest during last week's awful haze, I knew that they were hard to come by, but that Kohls was the ticket. So we headed over, and he chose his brand new bag. Abby's grandma had already gotten her a new Hello Kitty backpack for school, so she was good to go, but Isaac attached himself to a Toy Story one so we went with it, partially to keep the peace, and partially because, well, it was fair.

Up next was Walmart for a pencil case for Abby and perhaps some hats for Logan (which they didn't have). Every single time I go inside Walmart, I get sick. It's sad but true. So I was hesitant to let Logan go, given what's up next and that he'll need to be as healthy as possible this coming week. Fortunately, he didn't want to go inside, so Adam took Abby and Isaac and I stayed with him in the car. We had a sweet conversation for a few minutes; I told him he was my little angel and he disagreed, telling me that no, he's a person. I had to laugh a little because of course, he's right. There's just such honest sweetness and innocence in him that so incredible. So touching. It's always been in him, and I've always loved it. I just love it now more than ever before. Anyway, a few minutes later, he said he was tired and his head bobbed a few times before he drifted off to sleep. I watched him for a long while, just noting how he would breathe in and out and sigh every now and then. Just the little things that parents of young children get to see every day, but rarely ever notice, and even more rarely, admire.

The rest of the day was more like yesterday. Logan spent a lot of time complaining that his tummy and his head hurt. He has Tylenol for the head and Zofran, my old pregnancy buddy with whom I'm still cavorting even now at 23.5 weeks, for the tummy, but it never seems to be enough. It pains me so deeply to hear him cry for medicine; my little man who once only complained about an ear infection after his eardrum had already ruptured - badly. I can only imagine how horrible he feels; the closest thing I've ever experienced to neurosurgery was a bilateral sinusotomy, and it knocked me off my feet for days. And of course, there's no comparison between the two. I want to see him smiling, happy, having fun. I'm waiting for that day to come again and trying to be hopeful, even when it feels like hope is gone.

It sounds cheesy, but I made a sign for myself this evening using some plain old white printer paper and a pack of Twistable Crayola crayons. It simply says 'Believe'. I want to believe, but it takes a lot of reminding and a lot of faith and a lot of help to keep plugging away at life right now when things are so very much harder than I'd ever dreamed they would be.

Finally, as a side remark that's nothing if not a bit self-serving, thank you for your comments regarding my writing ability. I once dreamed of being an actual writer, of being known for my ability to translate thought to words, and on my better days, to amuse. I just never imagined that my 'talent' would be put on display in this kind of fashion.

Please continue to pray for Logan's sleep, his pain, his perseverance of spirit and his ultimate recovery down the road. Thank you.

No comments:

Post a Comment