The Surgery

I've been thinking about this entry for hours now, hatching a clever sentence here, a deliberately touching phrase there. But now that I'm in the moment and the day is through, I have only one big thing to say:

Glory to God in the highest!

Dr. Sun joined us in the cafeteria at about 7:30 PM Pacific, almost 12 hours after we'd met to gloss over the procedure one more time. He pulled up a chair, sat down and shared the news we'd been awaiting all day long:

I got everything I could see. I think I got it all.

My heart absolutely leapt in my chest. Got it all?! I had to quell the urge to jump up and hug him. After the trials, the disappointments, the fears, the frustrations, the seemingly endless string of 'one step forward, two steps back' setbacks and the hopelessness that dominated the past six months, it was incredible to hear those words at long last.

I hoped all along that he would be able to remove every speck of cancer from Logan's brain, but I don't think I ever believed that it would actually come to pass. It's not so much the result of a lack of faith, rather a desperate need to protect myself from yet another blow; from yet another punishing kick to my gut. To actually hear those words, to know that my prayers were answered in such an enormous way is absolutely amazing.

What makes it all the more amazing is the fact that I got the sense all along that I wasn't alone in expecting that he wouldn't be able to remove the entire tumor. I don't think Dr. T thought it would happen. I know Adam didn't think it would, though like me, he hoped and prayed that it would. To have a prayer of that magnitude answered in such a spectacular way is just mind-blowingly awesome. Many, many praises to God. Lift 'em up, friends.

In terms of the brass tacks, here's a little more detail. Dr. Sun said that it was likely that the MRI he'll have in a few days would still show residual 'stuff', but that he was confident that it was scar tissue rather than cancer material. Adam asked about the tissue that had been removed, and he shared that the quick freeze pathology showed primarily dead or dying cells, mixed with a small number of AT/RT cells. In other words, the tumor was still in the process of dying off when it was removed. Remember the Methotrexate that refused to leave Logan's system? It had a purpose, folks. It gives me chills thinking about it now.

Although this is indeed encouraging news, I'm still mindful of the fact that we're not yet out of the woods. In fact, we still have a long road in front of us to navigate. There are still small tumors in his spinal column, so he's not going to enter the transplant cycle completely disease-free. And post-transplant, he still has six weeks of radiation ahead. And then he'll need to be in remission for two years before he'll be considered completely clear. So please: Keep praying. Keep recruiting friends. Share the story and use it as a testament of what God can do! No one really thought that the entire tumor would come out today, but it did because God cradled Dr. Sun's hands in His own and made it happen. I believe that.

By the time that we finally got to see him post-recovery in the PICU, it was already after 9 PM. When I left, he was awake and clearly uncomfortable, but communicative and very frustrated that he wasn't allowed to get up to use the restroom. All positive signs, even if it is hard to see my sunshine in pain.

Before I head to bed for the evening, I wanted to share a little anecdote. I was anxious much of the day. There was an underlying layer of fear lurking beneath my generally cool demeanor, and I struggled, at times, to deal with the weight of the situation; with the weight of knowing that my little boy was in an sterile operating room, lying on his tummy as a surgeon picked away at his delicate brain tissue. And then rather suddenly, I heard it: Something amazing is coming, Sherry. I'm at work. Are you watching? And then I felt a measure of peace envelope my troubled soul and the worry was replaced with a vaguely nervous anticipation. And then, for the first time, I realized the date: 2/22/11. Not my magical birthday that didn't work out -- 1/11/11, but its double. 1/11 may have been lousy, but 2/22 exceeded my expectations. Dorky observation, yes, but I guess you could say that I try to find the gift in every situation these days.

2/22 is my niece Brianna's birthday, but it's now something of a re-birthday for Logan as well. It's the day that this modern-day David took his first giant step toward defeating Golliath. I hope that we'll be celebrating it as a very special and important day long into the future.

Good night, and thank you so much for lifting us up today. Please keep praying; it works. Blessings.