Life expands and contracts - every cell, each breath, blink, beat of the heart and so on. For me, this pulse came to a near halt Dec 22nd, 2022. We learned a softball size mass was seated deeply in Jack's abdomen, wrapped around the vena cava and attached to his bowel. Awaiting results for his spinal tap and bone marrow biopsy, we were now pulling him off all anti-rejection medications that we had been dosing like clockwork for 16 years to protect his transplanted kidney. My cellular body and bones could not release the 8am and 8pm alarms for these meds. The gravity of the situation, the multiple misdiagnoses, the miss on MRI 3 months prior and aggressive stage of cancer we landed in had left me paralyzed in grief and anger. Guilt settled in quite nicely afterwards. How dare I mourn my child, when he is still right here. How human of me.
Jack chose to quietly embrace his diagnosis, carrying on with school until the day he lost his hair. Reality carved into our landscape more deeply and confidence waned for all of us, including his oncologist. "I feel like I'm letting you down, Jack" as she walked into the room after a pet scan in July. This was one of the most compassionate and gut-wrenching things I had to accept. We were not out of options yet, but dosing more of the same chemo did not make sense. Three surgeons had previously turned us down in December. The pedal was down full blast these weeks as we consulted with surgeons and experts around the country (Dana Farber, Mayo, and Harvard Medical) thanks to the most wondrous, generous humans. I had glimmers of hope and clear moments that felt like the universe had his back. The quiet rally for Jack was huge. The boundary of protection that our dear friends held us in is indescribable. The nourishment at our front door, the care for our home, the rides, the love bombs. I truly don't think words are sufficed here.
On August 8, Jack unexpectedly came out of surgery and right into remission. We were fully prepped for more treatment after surgery and had stopped mentioning the other "C" word in our home, college.
Grab a tissue now and take in more joy. Last Tuesday, Jack suited up for senior night and got back on the field (with his twin bro) and mom quietly balling and gushing underneath rain gear. While he missed the opportunity to score a goal that night by a hair (pun intended), he did remind us all that his spunk is back by getting kicked out of the game with a yellow card. He's a fighter, my greatest teacher (along with Sam and Lucy), and now considering a future in sports management or sports marketing. Transcripts and senior essay available for review. (wink, wink)
As he promised, THE COMEBACK WAS F*ING HUGE!!!
J - I love you. Thank you for letting me share your story in this space. It is now yours to continue. You have shaped us and most importantly yourself into a sturdy, resilient, (stubborn) being capable of holding tremendous power and light. Thank you for showing us how it's done.
* photos (the good ones) are courtesy of Caty Mawing photography.
