6 months. 184 days. Half a year. Some days it feels like it was just yesterday and some days it feels like a lifetime ago. On April 17th, I got “the call” that changed our lives. Adeline found out the next day when we were certain. In the last 6 months, she’s had:
3 bone marrow biopsies and aspirations
1 central line placement (port)
86 (!!!) chemo doses
35 clinic visits
12 NPO days
1 dressing change
3 ER visits
1 surgery (port placement)
4 days of hospital isolation
16 overnight stays in the hospital
55 pokes
10 LPs (lumbar puncture=spinal tap)
1 echocardiogram
11 sedations
3 X-rays
2 ultrasounds
1 CT
1 EKG
13 blood/platelet transfusions
2 discharges from the hospital (from her two long term stays)
2 peripheral IVs placed
6 Covid tests
Parent-given infusions
Hair loss
Uncountable Acts of Courage 🧡
Looking back on the last six months, there is a lot to grieve. A teenager facing her own mortality. Missed opportunities and experiences. Pain. Vomiting. Fear. Sadness. Anger. Isolation. And not just for Adeline. For all of us. Dr. K always says that leukemia changes you, and you get to decide how. I will not ignore the hard or try to “at least...” it to something better. It is there, and it is a huge part of our journey. There are good parts too. You! People. Community. Support. In droves. And every time I think we’re to the point where we’re “on our own,” people keep showing up.
When Adeline had her clear scans last month, we were obviously so happy. But, (and this may be hard for me to articulate well, but I’ll try) for me at least, I don’t feel relief. Maybe just a little, but not in a way that I expected. Maybe I’ll always feel like it’s still there, that we’re just keeping it at bay. At the least, she’ll have chemo until 2022. And that is *if* the cancer doesn’t come back.
And I see and recognize that others (even others in our lives) did not have the same outcome. That doesn’t mean that people in our lives prayed harder, or that Adeline “fought harder.” She is a tough girl, but there’s not a lot of fighting to do when you hook up to a machine that pumps poison into your body. Yes, she maintained a positive outlook. Yes, she was brave when being poked for the 55th time. But (for me at least) I feel lucky that the medicine we gave her worked, that her body responded favorably. My friends who have lost loved ones to cancer- I see you. And I *know* your husband, mom, dad, wife, sister, son, best friend fought like hell. And I know people prayed for their healing. I also know that Cancer is a beast, and sometimes all we can throw at it simply isn’t enough. And it just isn’t fair.
