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.

Thursday, June 9, 2011


Every now and then, I let the harsh reality of our situation eat away at me. Today was, regretfully, one of those days. I woke up in a bad mood, and it snowballed from there. I think the weight of knowing that the MRI is next week --10 months to the day since we discovered that something was horribly, horribly wrong with my sunshine-- coupled with uncertainty over the future and the sheer exhaustion involved with coping effectively became too much to bear. The wall of "I'm okay-ness" that I've erected around my heart to protect both myself from the reality of my life and others from the awkwardness of dealing with someone like me cracked just a small bit. But it was enough to send me into something of a tailspin.

It's hard to avoid being furious all of the time these days. Not just angry, no; furious. There's absolutely nothing that's fair about this. I learned long ago that life isn't fair; that many times, good things happen to people who really don't deserve them while awful things happen to good people. It's just the way things are in a fallen world. But that knowledge doesn't make this situation any less painful. And it doesn't make the platitudes that are often shared with me any less bitter. I confess than when someone reminds me that God loves me and Logan and our family, I often think yeah, right, easy for you to say that. You haven't spent the better part of the past year watching your child suffer. You haven't felt this kind of pain, heartbreak, disappointment, exhaustion. It's not that I'm unteachable; I've thought on that subject many, many times in recent months, wondering if I am merely unreachable. No, it's merely that it's hard for me to accept statements like those from anyone who hasn't been in my shoes. And yes, I do know that it's unfair of me. But it's the way I feel, and I vowed long ago that I'd be honest here. So there it is.

I feel like I've been running a race for the past 10 months. Not a physical, feet-pounding-the-pavement kind of race, of course --goodness knows I can't run a quarter of a mile these days--, but an emotional race, a race of mental endurance. Unlike an actual race, the finish line isn't visible, and it's maddening to wonder if we're close or still miles and miles away. I can't just radio ahead to my spotter to find out where I am on the course. Heck, I don't even know what the course looks like. Nope, I have to keep running even though my heart aches and my body is utterly exhausted. There's not really much of a point to that observation; I suppose it's just me trying to explain how I feel in more relatable terms.

Anyway, all of that aside, Logan is still at CHO. And I still don't know when he'll be home. We're waiting on him to be able to hold down his oral medications. He did okay with them today while I was there. He's still throwing up blood, but apparently that's not something that will hold him, as his counts have remained stable and they aren't worried over its source.

I'm never sure who reads this and who doesn't, so I'll ask that you please pray and ask fellow followers who don't always read to do so as well. We need energy to cope. I'm empty. We desperately need healing for Logan. We need a clear MRI. It's not really a 'We'd like this' kind of request at this point; no, we need it. We need normalcy, we need a return to our life. We need to have our family together, we need to not be at CHO every single day. The strain is really becoming too much. We need hope, faith, patience. I need to feel like our plight hasn't been forgotten, as school gets out and vacations begin. I need to know that we're being remembered, that Logan is still remembered. Because we're stuck where we are for the forseeable future. There won't be any vacations, no trips home, not much of anything for us this summer. And it stinks. Thank you for being part of Logan's team.


  1. Sherry, My prayers will be for your cup to be filled. I pray for strength, hope, energy and healing for Logan and for you to be rejuvenated. It is draining but I know that God is there with you. Stop, be still and feel His wings lifting you up. It's my prayer. much love, michele starkey

  2. So at the races there are always the people at the tables along side the road handing out cups of water. We are those people. Grab a cup and gulp it down or splash it on your face and toss the cup. We will pick it up.
    We are not running the race. We only watch as you seem to power on by. For you I am sure it is a much different experience.
    What we have to offer is not enough, we know. All we can to is watch and encourage and admire you for your strength.
    I said it before, I won't turn away, not from Logan's misery and not from your anger and frustration. I suspect you might think that it alienates you from us but really it just points out what a struggle it is for you to even appear normal in such an abnormal situation.
    Sherry, I read your posts. I pray for Logan. Never worry that your honesty alienates us. Love is bigger than that. May you know at least moments of peace.

  3. Just a little note that, though I rarely post anything, I am always praying for Logan, and for you.

  4. What Larry said was beautifully put. I totally agree = ) Always praying. Always wanting to help in anyway I can. Thank you for your honesty no matter how raw it is. It is real and risky. I pray God will meet you in your valley and continue to walk with you through it to the other side.

  5. Second what Ldavidson said, every word!

  6. Hi Sherry,
    you are not alone, there are hundreds of us out there who have run the race. It is your only job to deal with what is right in front of you at this moment. we have all got your back with the praying. Don't think about the upcoming MRI. All of the energy you waste thinking and anticipating and obsessing over it, will not have any effect on the results. It will only deplete you of energy and set you up for exhaustion. Sleep whenever you can. Sleep is a weapon against evil. Deal with today. Be thankful to have this day. This day with Logan and your other beautiful babies. Today is the only day you have; Do not spoil it with worries and "what ifs". Enjoy Logan for who he is today. Create 'normal' today. It is a new normal; the only normal you have.

  7. We are here with you Sherry, praying every day that Logan gets better and returns to his normal life very soon.

  8. I'm still here, reading along. I haven't forgotten Logan.


  9. Praying. Praying each and every day, many times a day. I so appreciate your honesty, even when it's brutal honesty. After all, what kind of friends or prayer warriors would we be if we did not both want AND appreciate the truth. It breaks my heart to hear it, but I wouldn't want it any other way. The way you spoke about an emotional race with no visible end, I can relate. I don't think EVER to the extent that you and Adam and Logan and kids have endured, because I cannot imagine much else that is quite as painful and horrifying to endure as having your own child so sick and feeling like you can't physically do much to "fix" the problem.
    I am praying for strength. For endurance. For peace, especially on the days where there seems to be none. For hope. For normalcy. For HEALTH. For sanity. For more, and more, and more prayer warriors each day to join Logan's team, and pray all of this with us.
    We all love you, and Logan, and your whole beautiful family. Lifting you up, all of the time.

  10. Still here & praying Sherry. Rallying up my bible study group again to, that is no longer in session. I so hear your cry of pain & exhaustion. May God soon take all this pain away and completely heal Logan and mend your broken family. Hugs, nancy