A Decade of Leukemia - Coming Full Circle

For ten years now, I have written or blogged at times about a significant part of our family's journey, and this could well be my last post on the subject.  Over the last decade, thousands of you have walked with us through arguably one of the most horrific situations a family can experience:  the diagnosis of cancer (and more specifically acute lymphoblastic leukemia - ALL) in the life of your child.  You walked with us through the months of Brad's thirteen-year-old life on a razor's edge as he was hospitalized from the initial bacterial septic shock that hurtled us down this path.  You walked with us through three-and-a-half years of the first horrible treatment and then another two-and-a-half when he relapsed - a nearly seven-year span of treatment in all.  You walked with us through two hip replacements and two hand/wrist surgeries since then to deal with the damage from all the treatment. It has been a difficult ten years - especially for Brad.

Leukemia and Lessons on Control

August 29, 2009, is a date that will forever be burned into my mind.  In some ways, it still seems like it was yesterday that my healthy thirteen year-old son almost slipped away into death.  It was a day that, up to this point, marks the defining event and dominating circumstance of my last decade.  I have been reading my posts and blogs about Brad’s battle with leukemia (and the complications it caused) from the past eight years.  I can still feel the horror of helplessly watching Brad’s unrecognizable body teeter between life and death.  I remember the joy of progress and the despair at setbacks as Brad improved and digressed.

Life is Struggle

As I sit here in the pre-dawn minutes of December 27, 2016 with my favorite coffee mug and a quiet house, I am getting a few minutes to think – something that seems rare for me these days.  The last seven years since Brad was diagnosed with leukemia have brought a range of life events I never anticipated.  I never dreamed we would deal with our child being at the brink of death so many times.  I never anticipated our entire life in many ways would revolve around this unwelcome illness.  We learned to be extremely grateful just to be out of a hospital for holidays.  I remember the Christmas of 2009 when Brad walked again for the first time in four months, and our whole family broke down in tears of gratitude. 

A New Day Dawning

I took the picture in this post earlier this week here in Kentucky, and it seems quite fitting as a new day is dawning for my family.  This week, our nineteen year-old son, Bradley, started his college education at the University of Kentucky.  It seemed like this day might never arrive.  We had no idea what we were heading into six years ago today – August 29, 2009.  On a Saturday much like today as we were rushing Brad to the ER, we did not know that he had leukemia.  We just knew something was seriously wrong.  After having taken him to the doctor on the prior Wednesday and even again to immediate care just the night before, I had been reassured that there was nothing seriously wrong.  I didn’t know what was up that next morning six years ago, but I knew Brad was in big trouble.

My Son's Leukemia and Checking out on God

I realize that I haven’t posted in a while, and I doubt this fact impacts too many people.  I do occasionally have folks ask, “What happened?  Why did you go silent?”  The truth is, when my son Bradley relapsed in his leukemia back in October of 2013, it rocked my world.  I tried to stay engaged with broader things around me for a while, but I basically just lost my voice as I turned more inward.  I no longer had anything to say.

Thankful on the Cancer Wing?

Having just celebrated what is one of my very favorite holidays of the year, I’m reflecting a little on thankfulness.  It is 1:30AM as I sit here at Kosair Children’s Hospital in my University of Kentucky lounge pants (real men don’t wear pajamas).  My son has been a patient here on the oncology floor for the last two weeks.  What we hoped would be a relatively uneventful round of chemo to treat his leukemia relapse turned into a full blown septic infection in his bloodstream as well as a fungal infection in his lungs.  With no immunity because of the chemo treatments, he has been in a very precarious position.  It has taken constant care, constant treatment, a herd of doctors and nurses, round-the-clock attention from his mother and me, a can-do attitude from Brad, plus much prayer just to keep our noses above the water line. 

Disappointed with God?

What do you do when you are sorely disappointed with what God allows in your life?  Where do you turn when you have begged God for something which seems reasonable, yet God's answer is no?  How do you react when you cannot see what God is doing?  When you cannot see where he is going?  When you cannot figure out what he wants?  When you feel as if you can bear no more?

I have experienced a number of firsts the last few years, many of which I did not want.  Perhaps for the first time in my life, I am now experiencing deep disappointment at what God is allowing.  I hesitated to write this post.  I usually find blogging an outlet, but ever since my seventeen-year-old son Bradley was diagnosed with a leukemia relapse last week, I have been unable to find release through words.  I can identify my underlying feelings, but I have hesitated to admit them. It is hard to face being weak.

Ending the Year with a Bang - No Mo' Chemo!

Friday, December 28, 2012 (two days ago) was downright surreal.  Although Stacey has handled most of the medical transport these last three and a half years, Friday I joined her and Bradley for his VERY LAST intravenous chemotherapy treatment.  We now know all about vincristine, PEG-L-asparaginase, daunorubicin, mercaptopurine,  methotrexate, Bactrim, cytarabine and a host of other medicines I hope you will never hear of again.  We know all about treatment for lung failure, kidney failure, neural failure, vascular failure, gastro/intestinal failure, liver failure, bedsores and most anything else you can imagine.  We know all about blood transfusions (over fifty pints), chemo/dialysis port surgeries (five) and intrathecal lumbar delivery of chemo.  Although Brad technically has five more days of oral chemo to complete, for all intents and purposes he is through with treatment for his leukemia and the host of complications from the initial staph-induced septic shock that should have taken his life.  This day had been so long in coming, it has been hard for us to realize it is actually here.

Nov. 24, 2009 - Leaving Kosair Hospital after 3 Months