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: Saturday, September 11, 2010

It's hard to feel like things are progressing in a positive direction when it seems like every step forward is countered with two steps back.

Today was another rough one for Logan. The morning brought dry heaves, the afternoon brought bucketloads of loose stool (so yeah, the prayers for poop worked... maybe a little too well; I'd make light of it, but seeing the pain it causes him makes it incredibly not funny) and the one thing we'd been dreading: A fever. I knew when I arrived to relieve Adam's mom that he had one. He was cranky, and his eyes had that look they only have when he's sick. And of course, when I touched his little forehead, it was hot. The nurse drew his labs and ferried them off for analysis, and his white blood cell count came back at a little over 0; in other words, just about completely wiped out. He's on two different broad spectrum antiobiotics right now, which will hopefully allow him to recover sooner than later.

The fever means that we can expect an extra 2 to 3 days in the hospital at a minimum; it could be longer, most certainly won't be shorter. Logan's nurse, Prashant, said that the oncology doctors like to see two to three days sans fever before they'll allow discharge.

It's frustrating. No, it's more than frustrating. It means yet another two to three days of our fractured family, of driving back and forth, of not seeing Adam, of having constant physical reminders - tiredness, mainly - that our life as we knew it is over. I know we'll get used to it eventually; it'll become old hat (though probably never 'easy'). But for now, it just sucks. It's draining. And although I know that life isn't fair and sometimes we have to buck up and deal, this is so grievously unfair that there's no way to 'just deal'. There's too much upheaval, separation, loneliness, frustration, sadness. It's devastating in so many ways that I can't even begin to count them all.

Despite the frustrations, there were a few vaguely normal moments today that I treasured. Post-Tylenol, Logan smiled a few times and spoke in what we affectionately call Ponow, his own brand of silly gibberish. He also shared that he misses Abby, and made her a short video using my phone. I'll have to remember to share it with her.

This is a distance race we're running, and an intense battle we're fighting, so despite the pains and the unfairness, we have to press forward and believe that there will be good days down the line. And hopefully, a lot of them. Please pray for Logan's counts to begin to recover quickly, and for the fever to go away and stay away. And of course, as always, complete healing. The rest of us need energy, patience and grace to deal with stupid (albeit well-meaning) comments, and, well, energy. Energy, energy, energy.

Good night.

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