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.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

The 2nd MRI

I've been hemming and hawing over this entry for a little while now; over how to frame it, over what it all means. I'm finding that it's not getting any easier to type, so I'll just lay it all out there.

Philippa called Adam at 10 with the read. The tumor is still about the same size. It's crushing to hear those words, especially when we have such a great team of prayer warriors rallying around Logan and praying for his health. It's like yet another knife to my already bleeding heart. It's not what I wanted to hear in the slightest. I'm fighting an intense need to crawl out of my own skin just thinking about it.

But at the same time, I'm trying -- with a fair dose of effort -- to see the good in a less-than-good report. For one, it IS the same size. It's held steady and not gotten bigger. And I'm grateful for that. It's easy to forget, but we are dealing with an extremely aggressive form of cancer. It's very high-grade and very hard to treat.

For another, Philippa did say that the dye contrast they do (and I don't have more details on it, sorry) showed that it looked less aggressive; fewer really bright spots. So it's likely not growing as quickly as it did before. And for yet another, his spinal column is clear, so it doesn't show signs of having spread.

So in a nutshell, it's not really getting better, but it also doesn't appear to be getting worse, either.

It's a frustrating place to be. I feel fear. I feel anxiety. But more than that, I feel an intense form of disappointment. And if I'm being totally truthful, I'd say that I feel a little betrayed. I've prayed for healing, for eradication of the tumors every single day, multiple times a day, for the past four and a half months. I've gone into overdrive finding more and more people to join Logan's team. I know that God is hearing all of those prayers. And I'm just so, so disappointed that more hasn't been done. I don't understand why this mother's prayers don't carry more weight.

But in fairness, I can't see the 'what would've beens'. I can't see what would've happened had the tumor not been caught when it was. I can't see what Logan's status would be without all of his prayer warriors taking on the cause. My guess, based on what we've been through so far, is that we would've lost him by now.

I'm still acutely aware that this is a battle of giant proportions. In fact, as I was walking upstairs after Adam gave me the news, I had a distinct thought. It was just a single word, but it packed a punch:


After cycles one and two were so successful, I could see the hand of God moving. Although I hoped for more of the same from three and four, I couldn't well expect it because after all, there's another player in the game. So if God had the initial Point, it was logical to think that the counterpoint would come from the other side.

Following the counterpoint came another thought. It's the same old one I've had for months now: Expect amazing things. Keep expecting amazing things. Just hold on.

It's so hard to hold on to faith when you feel so raw, when you feel as if your skin has been peeled back repeatedly, rubbed with alcohol, and then reattached with something as impermanent as scotch tape. That's how it feels.

So what's next? We don't know. The neurosurgeon is out this week, so Philippa is in the process of trying to locate him so she can send the MRI and notes for his opinion. If he thinks surgery is a good option, he'll do that.

On, as it turns out in a wicked twist of 'fate' (in quotes because I don't believe in fate, of course), my 33rd birthday: January 11th.

If surgery is not an option, I don't know what happens next. Adam is going to send the scans and notes to the neuro in Boston who's had good success with AT/RTs for his thoughts. They use a different batch of medications for their chemo, so in theory that's an option, though it makes me nervous to even think about uprooting my entire family to go to the East Coast.

So onward we go. Please keep praying for Logan to be healed. The very thought of life without him makes my heart shatter into a million pieces. But in the same breath, I know I can't let fear take me out. I can't lose faith or heart. I can't let worries consume me or keep me from the business of recruiting more prayer warriors. That is, after all, what the other side would want me to do: It wants to see me broken, discouraged, disappointed, without hope.

Where God is, there's always hope. So I need to make sure He's with Logan and doing His work. And I need to remember that this whole journey has been a game of point/counterpoint, and that we've seen doses of both disappointment and victory along the way. So though I'm crying today, I'll be smiling again down the line.


  1. Hugs and more hugs and prayers to your whole family. If you do end up out here, we know so many people in this area that can help you.

  2. Hugs Sherry - I'm so sorry it wasn't the news you were expected. Cancer sucks. But at least it hasn't spread or grown larger like you said. There is still hope and lots of people praying for him and your whole family. xoxo

  3. Oh Sherry. I can't lie...this is heartbreaking news. But I totally agree that we need to gear up, keep praying, NOT stop expecting amazing things. As you've said in the past and I know you are right, this is more than a physical battle it's a spiritual one. I am wholly amazed at how, even in light of getting results that were not quite the ones EVERYone wanted, you are not letting satan grab hold and knock you out. You have been such a warrior and advocate for Logan these past almost 5 months. You are such a strong woman...a strong mom. Giving God praise for that. BUT also asking bigger, better, faster things from Him for Logan's total healing.
    Thank you for being brave and diligent in keeping us all up to date. I was thinking that some days posting has to be the last thing you feel like doing with such a full plate, but so grateful that we are able to keep so up-to-date with what's happening with Logan and how you guys are all doing.
    BIG hugs and BIG prayers being lifted up to you...

  4. I'm so sorry the news today wasn't as good as we all had hoped.

    If you need something on this end in Boston, please just say the word.


  5. I've been thinking of you and waiting for an update. Like you, I was praying for total healing, but as you said it's not bigger. It hasn't spread. The treatment is working.

    Continuing to pray and wishing I could wrap you in a tight hug.

  6. Feeling a mix of emotions as I read the post, I can't even begin to think of all that is enveloping you and Adam. I am so grateful that the tumor is not bigger, and not as aggressive, and certainly not spread to the spinal column and I must certainly God for these victories! Now, I will keep on praying the BIG prayers for wisdom for the team as well as for the family. I refuse to stop praying for complete healing each and every day. I too will keep recruiting more Prayer Warriort to join Logan's Army. Thank you so much for keeping us all in the know so we can pray for the specific needs as they change on the journey. Take care of yourself and your beautiful family! Sharon