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, February 23, 2011

The Day After

One of the most exhausting parts of Logan's illness is the sheer volume of patience it requires to cope with his volatile behavior following procedures. I am not a naturally patient person, so God is definitely stretching me like a rubber band. My hope is that I won't eventually snap.

When I arrived for my shift this morning, he was still undergoing his post-op MRI. He awoke from the anesthesia suddenly and quickly in the recovery room, and a storm commenced: He wanted daddy, he didn't want me. There's nothing new about that. It's been a commonplace occurrence over the course of his treatment. I accept that. The rejection cuts like a knife to my heart at times, but I understand. He tried to slap me away and screamed and cried for Adam. Only the promise of a juice box paired with three shots of morphine settled him enough to allow us to return to his spot in the PICU.

Once there, confusion and chaos ensued as his old nurse tried to fill his new nurse in on the relevant details. I felt completely helpless as I stood there listening to him scream and cry for food and drink while the nurses fiddled with his many, many tubes, trying to re-enable all of them as quickly as possible. I'm his mother. I knew that if he could just have a drink he'd go silent. But somehow, I couldn't manage to communicate that to the nurses. There were worries about him throwing up, uncertainty over what the neuro team wanted. And no one was in a hurry to figure it out. So I had to listen to him cry and watch him suffer as he writhed in thirst and his little tummy spasmed with hunger pangs. And it was horrible. Fortunately, the lines were established correctly, the proper questions were asked, and he got his miniature box of apple juice. As I'd predicted all along, he sucked it down in 30 seconds flat, asked for another, drank it, and settled into a quiet, peaceful state.

It's emotionally exhausting to feel pushed to one's limit, frustrated, hurt and heartbroken all at once. It crushes me to see him in such discomfort, to see him so very unhappy. At the same time, it's frustrating to hear him yelling the same complaints ad nauseum. I'm still human, so I still feel prickles of irritation, despite being cognizant of the great suffering he's had to endure. It's harder still when I don't feel like he's getting the care he deserves. I've not been truly angry often during the past six months because in general, the care Logan has received at CHO has been very good. But today's experience, the 15 minutes when Logan's comfort didn't seem to matter to anyone who could do something to help him, was horrid.

But I guess that's just part of our reality right now.

I'm sure this sounds substantially more negative than had been my intent. I'm tired; Brady decided that sleep was for suckers last night, so the needle on my tank isn't just empty right now, but below empty. The reality is that my sunshine is doing quite well. Yes, he was cranky, but praise God that he was alert and aware enough to be angry over being in the hospital. There were points in time during this journey that saw him desiring time at the hospital because he knew that it was the best place for him to be; because he knew that Adam and I simply couldn't make his owies better at home. He's off oxygen and he looks good, considering that he's fresh out of neurosurgery. He's mad over his foley catheter and wants to stand to use the restroom. He's truly a picture of resilience, and we're so unspeakably grateful for that quality that God has given him. I wish he didn't need such strength of character; after all, he's still a 4-year old little boy. But obviously it's good that it's part of who he is.

As always, there are so many more things I want to say. So many thoughts I want to share, so many feelings I want to try to express. But what I need is rest, so off I go. Blessings to you, and thank you for your continued prayers as we continue fighting this battle.


  1. (((Sherry))) all I can say is I understand. My mommy heart goes out to you. I am praying constantly for Logan and for you. It's hard managing all those emotions, feelings, and stresses. God is crafting all of you for a future He knows. Praying that Logan, Brady and you get a supernatural regenerating night's sleep. My heart and prayers are with you.

    Love in Christ,

  2. I love you little Logan and am celebrating your successful surgery! And I love you Sherry and hoping you got a good night's sleep! (That baby has to sleep SOMETIME.) Hope it gets easier in the coming days.

  3. It seems from personal experience and experiences I've seen others going through, when someone is going through something as traumatic as Logan, there's always somebody that takes the brunt of them lashing out. It sounds like that's you... I'm sorry. I know that's painful. But usually, it's because that person thinks that you're the only one that can really handle it in the given situation. Love and prayers.

  4. Praying that last night provided unusually refreshing rest to your mind and body. Hoping for much more sunshine and rainbows for all of you! Continuing to pray, pray, pray.

  5. First off, thanks for updating! Every time I log on to check if there's a new post I always tell myself to realize that it takes TIME to write these things and these days you don't always have a lot of that :) So I appreciate how much you keep us posted, it's great to be in the loop of what's happening with Logan!
    It's awesome how much independence and resilience Logan has! I can see how part of that would also be a challenge, but thanking God at the same time for how much of a blessing that is! He is such a wonderfully made child ~ and I also love how you see that even in some of the most challenging moments. I say again and again, YOU ARE an AWESOME MOM SHERRY! It takes a lot of strength to realize over and over when your precious kiddo cries for daddy instead of mommy (as Derek often does to me!) that it's not a personal offense (even though sometimes it sure feels like it!).
    Lots of hugs and prayers to you as you cope with some of the dramatic behaviors that occur post-op and throughout treatments. You are awesome, you are passionate about your children, you are witty and smart, and you are (whether you would use this word to describe yourself or not)...patient. I can see/hear it in you and your posts. Oh, and I'm sure you are right ~ God is sure using this to grow your patience even more...and we'll pray he doesn't let you snap! :o)