The Logan Update: 12/20/10

I've started to update several times over the course of the past few days. It's usually the plaintive 'I'm hungry! I'm hungry!' cries of young Brady that have stopped me mid-sentence. Now that he's sleeping and Adam is around to cuddle him (and provide the all-important pacifier) if he awakes, I'm finally good to go!

The past few days have been good for Logan. Really, really good. So good, in fact, that I can feel the grace of God through them. His numbers continued to improve steadily from the day 15 WBC count of .8. We figure that he likely began his recovery on day 14 with a .1, but it's always hard to tell since it's such a scrawny little number. Still, a day 15 beginning to recovery is amazing for a headstart kid on his 4th cycle of chemo. I didn't see today's number, but yesterday's was 13.0, and all of his other numbers -- hemoglobin, red cells, platelets -- are all now increasing on their own. So, all things considered, he's now 'recovered'. His energy level is returning to a more normal level and he's been to the playroom and enjoyed some animated conversations with his nurses and visitors.

He's still at CHO, though. He's now met the requirements for discharge set forth when he was admitted last week: (More than) 48 hours without a fever (he actually only had one the first day or two of this stay), three days of negative blood cultures (only the first one came back positive), and an ANC of 200 (as of yesterday, it sat at 9,100). He's theoretically set to be released tomorrow (yay!); right now we're waiting on the team to get the medications ordered and ready for us. When he comes home, he'll be on an antibiotic pump 24 hours a day to combat the blood infection and make sure it doesn't rear its ugly head again. It's supposedly like his TPN (liquid nutrition) pump, which he's accustomed to wearing at home overnight, but he'll have to get used to being hooked up 24/7 and will lug it around in a tiny backpack. Adam told him this afternoon and he was absolutely okay with it as long as it means he gets to be at home. So that's a relief.

I've taken Brady to see Logan a few times now and he's loved every second with his baby brother. He especially loves sitting with him in his bed, singing to him and patting his tiny, soft head. The scene makes my heart swell with joy and pride every time. Logan doesn't just light up when he sees Brady; he illuminates fully from the inside out. No one makes him smile in quite the same way. So although Brady wasn't planned by us, per se, he was very clearly planned by God and timed perfectly, even if the timing seemed terrible to us for a long while. It's nice to see still frames of the great plan revealed now and again.

To switch gears, we're now 8 days from the second MRI and my anxiety level is high. Do you trust Me? Do you trust Me? runs through my head several times a day. And I do... sort of. (It's hard! I'm working on it.) And then I think why wouldn't I trust? After all, after being very sick again last week, Logan made an impressive recovery once again. And honestly, the whole situation bears God's handprint. Just check out the sequence of events: I went into labor when Logan was home, which is what I wanted and prayed for. I had Brady, and he was able to join the rest of his family to visit the baby on day one. The next day, Adam's parents couldn't draw his blood, so they had to take him in to CHO to have it done there. Had they been successful, the numbers would've come back good and he wouldn't have required a trip to CHO that day, which meant Philippa wouldn't have seen him and wouldn't have remanded him to a morphine pump, the doctor wouldn't have had a look at his infected lip, and he wouldn't have been there for immediate treatment as soon as he spiked the first fever. It upset and angered me at the time -- and trust me, my eyes were so swollen from crying over it that I could hardly open the left one for 18 hours -- but now I see that the timing was ideal. The doctors were able to nip the infection in the bud just about literally the second it hit his bloodstream. You can't ask for anything more than that when you're engaged in a battle like this.

But despite what I've seen, I worry over the MRI. My quietest, innermost prayer is that all traces of the cancer will be gone, but it seems like too much to request. After all, Logan has responded incredibly well to the chemo. His marrow has been almost shockingly resilient. As I noted earlier, a day 15 recovery start for his protocol is excellent, even for cycle ONE. Cycle four... amazing. It's gone so well overall that I fear what's to come, which I realize is horribly backward. I should and DO praise God for his provision and for holding Logan in His hands as he clearly has all along. But still, I spend much of my time almost afraid to breathe; worried that if I inhale, all of the good -- no, amazing -- things we've seen come to pass since this journey began four months ago will somehow vanish. And the thought is almost enough to knock the breath from my lungs. So I suppose I go back to the fundamentals: I want to believe; help my unbelief.

I thank you as always for your continued prayers. Please do continue to pray for complete healing for Logan and for permanent eradication of the tumors. In addition, pray for me to feel peace over the approaching MRI. A sad truth about me is that I'm particularly susceptible to negative thoughts, feelings and fears as holidays approach; it's a 'clever' trick that's used to get to me when I should be enjoying happy times with my family. Please pray that I'll be able to resist the negativity this season and truly savor every moment with my whole -- and expanded! -- family. Finally, pray for all four of my children to have fun together over the coming week or two. They don't get much time as siblings these days, and I know they all miss one another so very much. Pray against the usual bickering and for harmony.

Blessings to you all.