Do We Just Need a Party Planner?

Jace 3 days after chemo this time... and he did end up missing one practice.:(

Speaking of fears, they've started swirling in my brain again. I manage to repress them most of the time, but not lately. November and Jace's last scheduled chemo treatments are approaching quickly, and though I've never thought we'd make it this far, I'm terrified.

I'm scared that it won't be completely gone.
I'm scared that when the chemo stops, the cancer will start again.
I'm scared that it won't be over.
It has to be over.

Jace continues to hear conversations about cancer victims dying. He asked me the other day, "So, why didn't I die? Why do some people die from cancer, and some people live?"

The scriptures John 9:2-3 came to mind. I told him that our Heavenly Father must still have something for him to accomplish on earth.  Some cancer victims already accomplished their earthly missions, and Heavenly Father needed them in the Spirit World, but God's "works" still need to be "made manifest" in Jace on earth.

Jace wondered what those works might be... "You mean I haven't done what I'm suppose to do yet?" This was troublesome to him.  I giggled/cried by explaining that Heavenly Father knows that as Jace's mother, I still have a lot to learn from the Iron Man. He teaches me something EVERY day. Then I followed through with my very sincere thought: "..And because you can't die before me, anyway;  Heavenly Father knows I could never live without YOU."

It's too much you know. It's too much for a 9 year old... and a very weak mother.  The conversations...the concepts...He's so tough, but I'm really not.

I promised on this blog three years ago that we would have a huge party when chemo ended. "Coast to coast" I think I said..."everyone invited." The ironic thing now though, is I don't have the energy to plan it. Something about surviving cancer wears a family out. We SO want it to be behind us that it's hard to get excited about celebrating.  Somehow it feels like if we go about it quietly, maybe we can escape the chances of it returning. Is that fear speaking?

Or do we just need a party planner?

If you are still reading this blog three years later-- thank you.
I recognize how pathetic it is sometimes...
Three more months of chemo.
We can do it.
Love you all.

"All It Takes..."

Thursday Morning

 Chemo at Primary Children’s yesterday was old hat. We parked in the usual place, played the same guessing game with which elevator would open first, and patiently endured the same procedures for cancer patients on the 4^th floor of the hospital.  After a routine CBC, Jace’s numbers looked better than they have all summer, and he received his usual dose of IV Vincristine.

It was ‘mostly’ old hat…I should say…with the addition of mentioning his recent headaches to the doctor. Jace has experienced headaches every day since Sunday. It is odd for him to complain about anything, so we are definitely taking note and trying to figure out exactly what is causing them. As you know, he started wearing a football helmet recently, so this is probably the cause. (Though he hasn’t done any tackling yet). Or it could be allergies…or a sinus infection. These are our best physical explanations.

In the last two weeks Jace has also initiated two very tender “Cancer Conversations.”  This first started with:

“So, is there a chance I could still die from cancer??...”

The second was:

“Can you get two kinds of cancer at once? Is there a chance my headaches are caused from a brain tumor??...”

This insight to his worries is troublesome, but I’m glad he’s communicating them to us.  I’m not sure we say the right things, but at least we can talk openly about these very real fears.

Yesterday after his chemo treatment he pestered us the entire way home from Salt Lake to “drive faster” so he could make it to football practice.

“What if you don’t feel well enough to practice?” I asked gently. “Are you sure you want to go? The coach said you have a great excuse to miss…”

“MOTHER. Come on!” he replied. “Since when do I not go to practice?”

We are working on inventing a “port protecting” contraption to attach to his shoulder pads.  They will start “hitting’ in practice next week…

After driving straight from Primary Children’s hospital, we arrived at the field. He grabbed his cleats, helmet, and water bottle. Then he threw his hospital identification bracelet in my lap, and jumped out of the car. As he walked away I read the back of the shirt he wore. It said:

“ALL IT TAKES, Is All You’ve GOT.”

--A fitting saying for our Iron Man, don’t you agree?

Thursday Night

"Duck!"

For three seasons of baseball, if an inside pitch was coming too close to Jace, I would scream from the bleachers, “DUCK!”  I have been so fearful every time he bats-- that a fast pitch would hit him in the port and drop him.

Of course, Matt just rolled his eyes at me. “He’s not going to get hit in the port, Amy,” he would say. “He’s fine.”

I found this hard to believe when I noticed a bruise on Hayden’s ribs one morning. “WHAT is that??” I exclaimed! Hayden dropped his arm to try to cover the evidence.  It was a baseball size, black and blue bruise caused by a fastball in the exact location of Jace’s port. Matt defended his position by explaining that Hayden “wears them” on purpose. Hayden doesn’t have to protect a port, so he doesn’t avoid a bad pitch. Ahh the intricacies of baseball and boys…So with Jace I yell “Duck!”? …and with Hayd I yell “Wear that!”?  It’s so complicated!

Random pic of Hayden pitching...It is just so great, I had to include it!:)

Luckily (hopefully) we are closing another chapter in the “port” world though. Jace successfully made it through three seasons of baseball without injury to his port (though it was bruised a few times from him laying out to catch a ball), and he played like a champion. In his very last game of the season, he hit an in-the-park homerun! As his cleat pounded that homeplate, my heart swelled with grateful emotion. Our cancer babe just hit a homerun.  Miraculous.

My steady campaign against football is getting me nowhere though…so we get to open another chapter.  I’ll keep you posted.

Can you believe it’s been almost three years of chemo??

Jace is soooo close.

Pray for four more months, injury free?

Chemo at Primary Children’s Hospital next week.  

Love you all.