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: Our Sunday and some reflections, 8/22/10

Today was a good day. It took me a long time to write that introductory sentence because it's hard to label anything at all about Logan's situation as 'good'. But part of being positive and hopeful is seeing the good things when they come and being thankful for them, even when things seem completely overwhelming.

We're one week removed from knowing something was wrong with Logan. Tomorrow marks a week since the CT scan and our finding out about the tumor. In a way, it feels like it's been a year. In another, it seems like no time has passed at all.

My brother Charlie was here for the weekend. One thing that's wonderful about Charlie is his ability to make me laugh when I feel like crying. And there were a few times today and yesterday when he truly made Adam and I laugh so hard that we cried with tales of a staph infection, curiously inserted Tylenol tablets, and 'exotic materials'. Although laughter feels grossly inappropriate given that our sweet little boy just endured brain surgery, it's such a necessary coping device for us. I need to laugh. I need to see the lighter side of life so things don't start to feel dark and heavy. And Logan is such a sunny person by nature that he'd probably be sad if he knew how many tears I've cried for him over the past week.

Anyway, Charlie left early this afternoon. Adam's dad drove him down to Pleasanton so he could pick up a few things from the house and take care of feeding the cat. Then he gave our neighbor Jen our key so she could check the mail and take care of said kitty while we're away. (Thanks Jen!) While they were gone, I sat alone with Logan in the PICU. He'd been largely out of it since Friday; not surprising given that he had brain surgery (and it doesn't feel any less odd to write that no matter how many times my fingers graze those keys in that order) and an MRI and is pretty heavily drugged with Morphine to control pain. Anyway, while I was there, we both sort of drifted in and out of sleep. I didn't want to keep getting up, since I want to be sure not to encourage more contractions, so I just sat by his bedside and rubbed his little foot and talked with him when his eyes were open.

Lara, Heidi, Megan and Justin came by to visit in the afternoon, and we had a nice time chatting. H, M and J brought a teddy bear with its own doctor's kit; teddy sat beside Logan and his buddy Lambie for a while. They also brought a pillow signed by all of the children at church this morning. Even though Logan didn't want Megan to be his new nurse :) he did give her his first-ever post-op high-five. Lara brought some Hot Wheels cars, suggested by Hannah, and Logan broke his typical silence after she'd left to ask us to open the package for him. So thank you to the four of you for coming. We do enjoy having visitors.

He did much better in the late afternoon. He's had a hard time drinking or eating because his throat was sore from being intubated, but he finally managed to drink some sips of water, apple juice and chocolate milk without throwing them up. He also had a few bites of Jello. He doesn't speak a lot, but when he does, the output has been surprising. It's clear that he listens to everything and has opinions about all of it, but that he's so drained that he only speaks when he has something absolutely essential to say. As Adam and I left to go for dinner when Adam's mom arrived, he watched us get up and said 'don't forget to bring me the food I want'. (Macaroni and cheese and cheese pizza, a sure sign of the return of his appetite, which is wonderful.) He ate about 5 bites of macaroni and a few bites of pizza and held it all down. And he was upset to find that he couldn't change completely into pajamas because of some of his tubes. But really, after brain surgery, even complaining is wonderful to hear. Hopefully tomorrow will be even better and his sunny disposition will start to shine through once again.

It's hard to watch my baby suffer. It's hard to see him cry and say he feels sick and that his head hurts. But he's feeling better and the surgery is behind us, and we have to be grateful for those things. They're big things to be thankful for. I hadn't realized it, but Adam shared today that he'd been terrified on Friday while Logan was in surgery. He was scared that something would go wrong. I was cool as a cucumber. For anyone who knows us well, you'll realize the odd irony of that: I'm usually the stressball while Adam is the reasonable, level-headed one. I figure it had to be all of the prayers working on me and in me, and I thank you all for being a part of helping to keep me calm and my little unborn son safe while my older son was in so much potential danger. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Heidi also shared that Logan's sickness is really uniting our church body. Although I hate what's happening - and I don't use the word hate lightly - I'm thankful that it's bringing people closer to God. Crisis has a way of doing that. I hope that someone new is reached through what's happening, although in the same breath I continue to ask for healing for my little boy. And fast, complete healing so he can go back to living a normal life and making people smile like he does so very well. A loud, sudden thought absolutely surged through my mind yesterday afternoon: "The world NEEDS Logan." I have no idea where it came from or why it was so loud; to me, the voice of the Lord is typically just a whisper, and I usually can't hear it through the rough and tumble of life. But this was clear and sure. And I felt a jolt of what I can only describe as LIFE! go through me.

It's hard to be hopeful sometimes; others it's relatively easy. I think that's simply the complicated truth behind walking this path. Faith is hard. It's difficult to hold your child up to God and to say 'here he is, please do what You do' and just let it go. As a mom, I want to fix him. I want to kiss his boo boos and hug him and love him and make it all better like I always have. But I can't. I have to rely on God to touch him and heal him and restore his health so he can grow up and be a light in a world full of darkness. I have to have hope.

Anyway, that's it for now. I could go on and on; that's the thing about being a writer - the words just keep coming. And there's so much to tell that it's hard to know when to stop and rest. Thank you all so much for praying and thinking good thoughts and sending notes and hugs and everything you've done for us. I'm so touched at times that it takes my breath away. Forgive me for not responding personally to each and every one of you, but this journey is exhausting. Some days I feel like I'm ready to run alongside Logan in whatever marathon he's about to begin; others I can hardly bend over to tie my shoes. Please feel free to share our story with whomever you like; despite my fears, I do believe in the power of prayer and that God is the ULTIMATE healer, and would love to assemble a full army to intercede on Logan's behalf.

Bless you all,


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