Saying Goodbye

 Have you ever thought about all that the walls in your house have heard or experienced? That is what Rick and I thought about last night when we sat together after the kids were asleep. You see life has changed again for the Gilmartins. We got an offer on our house two weeks ago and a contract the next night. We will be moving to Staunton in May. We still have the details to work out with inspections and closing dates, but it looks like it is a go. As we sat in amazement at God's provision for our family, a mix of emotions went through out minds. We are mostly excited and so grateful. Our hearts are in Staunton as we minister there each week and look forward to really getting to know and serve that city. We have been praying boldly since our house went on the market about 70 days ago that God would bring a buyer to our house. Seeing that prayer answered so quickly is a reminder to us of the faithful God we serve that hears our prayers. So this move is exciting!
 It is also somewhat sad. These walls have seen and heard so much with our family. This is the house we brought our baby boys home to. This is the house that we have grown our family of 6. And this is the house that we survived cancer in. It is funny, besides normal transitions, the cancer part is the hardest for me to say goodbye to. Don't get me wrong, I am glad to say goodbye to cancer, but it is the memory that every room holds here. The places Andrew got shots from our dear friend Margie. The couches we held him on when he wasn't feeling well. The cribs that Andrew slept in while he wasn't at the hospital. The kitchen that prepared his favorite meals to keep him eating. Rooms I saw dear friends scrubbing from top to bottom in order to "de-germ" the house for our boy coming home from chemo. Even little things like stickers I have packed that he received from friends to keep him busy while he waited on scans and surgeries. It is amazing how many memories this house could share regarding our cancer journey. As we entered the beautiful spring time with our trees blooming and flowers coming up, I am reminded of last year when we had just weathered the storm in the winter and how alive we felt. Our house has been a safe haven for us, as well as many family members and friends that came to help, during that time. So yes, there is a part of me that is ready to turn the page and be done with the "cancer house," however, there is another part of me that is grieving.  We are saying goodbye to a huge chapter in our lives and taking a step of faith to believe that the next chapters, even if they are scary, will be perfectly written. There will not be a mistake in the story or something that we could have avoided. God knew what house we needed to be in to walk through cancer with Andrew and He knows where we need to be for the next chapters in our lives.
 Becca made a chain tonight counting down the days until we move into our new house. We have 22. 22 more days of packing. 22 more days of "suburban" living. 22 more days to look around at the walls that weathered so much with us. And 22 more days to get excited about the next adventures we will have as a family of 6.

 And so because there is not much happening with cancer here now (and hopefully forever), we will also say goodbye to this blog. This blog was started to keep everyone updated on Andrew's progress and what was happening in the hospital. It ended up being an amazing tool to help Rick and I process through so many deep thoughts and emotions as well as share our story with those who wanted to keep updated.  But Lord willing, we will not have to go down that road again and so we will say goodbye to our friendly readers. Thanks so much for your love and support. We are forever grateful to you and especially to our great God and Healer.

Perks to Childhood Cancer?

 Well, dedicated followers, we are approaching our one year mark. One year since the nasty tumor was removed from Andrew's chest and we said good-bye to cancer. March 5th was the day of the big surgery and that day approaches quickly. It has been a year of celebration, rememberance, trial, and joy. We have sung "Happy Birthday" to all 6 of our family members. We have splashed in the pools over the summer and relaxed at Nags Head last July. We have travelled to Disney World in October and had a magical, unbelievable time for a week in Orlando. We were very thankful at Thanksgiving and joyful, yet somber at Christmas as we rejoiced in another holiday together, yet, remembered when this journey all began. Yes, this has been a year of many memories for our growing family. The girls still talk about the time with cancer, while Andrew cannot really remember the hospital stays, "tubies", surgeries, or scars. We are thankful for where we are now and continue to worship the God that writes every day of our lives. In March, Andrew will have another MRI to check on the safe, but lingering cancer cells in his body. This will mark his one year recovery and we will go to MRI's every six months rather than every three. Hooray!!
  As we prepare to close out this blog (as we don't anticipate much more to write about regarding cancer), there are two little tidbits I wanted to share. I hope to bind this blog in book form to always have on my shelf to remember the journey of hope we were on in 2009-2010. Anyway, a little girl named Hayley Kudro, who suffered from an aggressive form of neuroblastoma, was interviewed by the national news. It seems that some amazing researchers have discovered what looks to be a cure for many types of neuroblastoma. I have attached the two links that you can watch on this amazing litle girl that lives in our town (and we knew from UVA) and what has been discovered in the way of cancer cures. It is a true miracle from God!!


http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=6912919n&tag=mncol;lst;2



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZYdiVIqO-o


  The other fun tidbit is one of the perks that has come from this battle with childhood cancer. Besides the amazing, all inclusive Make A Wish trip that Andrew received in October, he also was surprised by another gift at his last appointment. Rick took him in for his monthly check up and the nurse asked Rick if we had ever received a blue and black totebag from a group called Jeffery's Gifts. He said no and the nurse returned with a duffel bag full of some things. It had a new book for the kids, the Jungle Book dvd, a Walmart gift card, a free Papa John's pizza coupon, and an envelope inside. The nurse told Rick that he could open the envelope in the clinic and decide what he wanted for his "big purchase item." Rick had no idea what to expect, but as he pulled out the piece of paper, listed below were things like a brand new Wii, an XBox 360, a camera, a camcorder, or a Best Buy gift card. I was in a meeting with someone when I got the call from Rick saying, " You will never believe this....." I didn't have time to chat about anything, so I said, "Have fun with the decision." Well, Rick filled out the paper and when Andrew goes in for his check up this Friday, he will coming home with a free X Box 360. Crazy! I guess  that's one of the "perks" of childhood cancer.

Surrender

   Happy New Year to everyone reading! We hope this year brings many blessings and exciting things for your family and ours. As I pull down the old calendar from my wall and put up the 2011 one, I can't say I am that sad to say goodbye to 2010. Don't get me wrong, there were many fun things that happened and blessings that I experienced, but several of the "fun things" like Disney World, or personal growth, or even God's working in Rick's vocation came about because of some really hard things. Our biggest struggle, of course, was cancer. Andrew had his last MRI scan on December 28th and as far as we know everything looks good and nothing has changed with the size of the remaining cancer cells. Praise God. We breathe a sign of relief.
 So where does that bring me in 2011? I find myself reflecting how I have changed and how our family has changed. I find myself thankful to not only have made it through 2010, but also to have thrived in many ways. Our family is closer and more sensitive to those that hurt around us. We laugh a little more and cry more often without hesitation. I have watched four precious children's hearts develop in ways that I couldn't have imagined and I do believe that the trials, the fears, and the last year's challenges have really aided in those ways. The Christmas story meant more to us this year. The kids loved to talk about how Jesus was born and He came to help those that were hurting and in need of rescue. They reanacted the story of Joseph and Mary together and sang the tradition Christmas songs at the top of their lungs. We celebrated Jesus' birth and already began to talk about how wonderful it was that Jesus came to us, but even more amazing that He died and rose again! We would still be in darkness if He hadn't come and especially if He hadn't risen again. And you know what, I think the three oldest got that amazing concept of Christianity a little bit more this year. I am thankful that we have grown and seen God more in our lives.

 On the flip side, my flesh struggles a lot with fear. The word that keeps coming to my mind is surrender. I must surrender my life, my kids, my security, Rick's job, all relationships, and all control over to God. He is the one that is really in control and has all my days ordained. And you know, I am scared. I believe He is Sovereign, but I get scared that He isn't good. I get scared about what might be around the next corner. Will I be able to handle the next trial? Will something worse happen that will tear my family apart or seriously challenge my faith? Will we make it through? How can I prevent chaos? How can I control as many factors as I can to keep myself saife? Madi and Becca are going back to school on Monday and I will cry my eyes out when they leave. I have LOVED having them home for the entire two weeks (I didn't think I would love it this much) and I don't want to let them go out into the "world" again. I want to keep everyone close and protect them and never let anything bad happen. But I can't. I can't control my world or theirs. This concept is so scary. I am being challenged already on this first day of January with a pretty huge job...surrender. Allow the God of the universe to have it all. He already does, but He wants my heart to believe that too. He wants me to believe that He has the best in His heart and that He loves my family and I more than I do. He is not out for harm or mockery, but He is out to make us more like Him. He is not here to remind me that He is safe, but that He is good. So that is where I am right now. I will take one step at a time to place my life and the lives of my dear ones into His hands. And I will try to not take them back again in my heart. I know in my head that there is freedom in surrender, but the steps to get there are hard and very scary. May God be glorified in my baby steps and may whatever comes in 2011 remind me that He didn't "bring me out of Egypt "(or cancer) to kill me, but to allow me to trust and love Him more.

One year later

The lot to write this post has fallen to me. I can't say that I am ultimately very excited about this endeavor; there is still a large part of me that wants to wander in the hinterland of denial. Yet it is appropriate that, one year later, I lead off just as I did then. Yesterday was diagnosis day, the one year anniversary of the nightmare that was and the troubling dream that is. Today I try and put to words some sense of what has been going on in us and I will probably fail.

I could begin this simply by speaking of where we were this time last year: the cold harshness of the fluorescent lighting and spartan hospital room, the fear of unknowing, the intimidating presence of something in my son's chest that I could not see yet constantly filled my mind. I could begin there but my heart is not in it.

I could begin instead with where we are now: Andrew's health and vitality, his complete ignorance of anything that happened last year, the girls's memories and questions of the hospital as soon as the Christmas tree went up, the unbidden memories that randomly return to us as parents with certain smells or songs. This would be as good as any place to start but I can't quite bring myself to do that either.

The reason for this is the ambivalence I feel today. This ambivalence is due to at least three voices that are warring in my head. The first is the voice of denial. Denial is loud and talks a lot. It is not a commanding presence but rather an annoying one. It fills the air with words to keep the silence away because with the silence comes reflection and with reflection comes truth and truth, as they say, can be inconvenient. To keep that away Denial is trying desperately to move me from thing to thing, from distraction to distraction to keep me away from something that might cause me pain.

The second is the voice of Rationality. Whereas Denial simply seeks to keep you distracted, Rationality seeks to make you believe something that, though possibly true, might not be the most helpful thing. It is commanding and convincing, speaking with authority laced with a tinge of shame to keep you in line. Today Rationality is trying to convince me that because Andrew hasn't had any treatments since March, that since our story has thus far ended well, that thus I should be unfazed by this anniversary. More, I should in fact simply be celebrating the reality that I have my son and my life has returned to some semblance of stability.

The third and final is the voice of the Heart. The Heart is the voice that is quiet but persistent. With enough busyness it can be drowned out and it isn't very good in a debate, but it doesn't give up. The Heart reminds you that you are human, that you actually feel things, that things aren't the way you know they are supposed to be. The Heart somehow navigates the brokenness of the world and still speaks with hope and expectation. Today this voice is reminding me of how bad this day was a year ago. Today this voice is trying to get me to live in that place where the walls fell in and all of life changed.

Ultimately Denial won out. It is now a week since I began this post. In the time between writing we've gone through Christmas eve and Christmas morning (both surreal experiences of remembrance) as well as a trip yesterday (Dec 28th) to UVA for Andrew's latest MRI. A year ago today (Dec 29th) Andrew was in surgery getting his biopsy.

My experience yesterday echoed that day. I hope I will never get used to the strangeness of holding my boy as he goes limp from anesthesia. A year ago he laid on my lap as the white liquid was slowly injected into him and within seconds he was out. I handed my life over to a doctor who took him back to an OR. When they left I remember holding Jess and crying. The tears came not just from what was coming but ever just the reality of having a lively little boy turn limp in my arms. The eeriness remains with me. Yesterday was the same. I held him until he was out, placed him on the bed they would roll into the MRI room and walked out to find my wife. The tears came again; sure not as many and not with the same force, but they came. They came with a subtlety that was more filled with sadness than fear. The ironic timing of his MRI kicked Denial and Rationality to the curb and allowed the Heart full access. My life is still not normal.

All signs at this point are that Andrew continues to be fine. An unofficial look at the MRI shows no change either way for the minuscule masses that remain. That is fine since it is likely that those masses could remain with him his whole life, silent reminders of the terror that he barely experienced and will never remember. That strangely seems appropriate this morning as I write. Maybe that is the perfect metaphor for where we are as a family. The emotional masses that remain in us are smaller, but they are still there. Every once in awhile we are reminded of their existence. Some times the reminder comes with tests and dejavu like yesterday. Some times it comes simply by seeing a picture of Andrew with barely any hair or hearing our girls playing with their dolls who still, every once in awhile, get cancer. One would hope that these masses would go away collapsing into the sweet realm of forgetfulness, but that would somehow cheapen things. Ultimately what Denial and Rationality do is they seek to minimize what has gone on to limit the amount of continued fallout under the assumption that the pain that this event brought might destroy us. It didn't destroy us then and it won't destroy us now.

That isn't bravado nor is it presumption, it is an acknowledgement of something greater than the pain. One of my biggest struggles of faith through all of this time has been one of the same struggles I have always had... only amplified. It is the doubt in God's goodness. I'm a presbyterian which means I am big on God's sovereignty (the idea that God rules and governs all things by His unfailing will) but sovereignty is no comfort unless you can also believe in God's goodness. Someone having ultimate power is scary unless you know that person is for you. That is where remembrance comes in and that is where Denial and Rationality do us all a disservice. You see unless I consistently practice the discipline of remembrance I forget that in the midst of that nightmare I never felt abandoned. Unless I am forced to taste those tears again I forget that their bitterness was countered with the sweetness of a Presence that I could not reproduce. Unless my mind is taken past my fear into those images and feelings and experiences I will forget that our story was one of mercy and that cancer did not win.

That is the strange thing; Denial and Rationality, who seek to keep you from thinking about your pain actually make it worse because they keep you from remembering the One who brought you through it. They strengthen the shadows that surround that pain, make it look bigger and more frightening than it really is, and deny the redemptive role that it was intended for. A year later we are still a family like any other except that we have a child with cancer.

Before and After

 I did something silly the other day. Luke had broken a fruit plate all over the floor. After cleaning up the pieces and reassuring the kids that it was okay, I proceeded to dump the them in the trash. Some time went by and I came downstairs to make a casserole for dinner. As I was cleaning up the mess on the counter, I took some things over to the trash. It appeared full, so I without hesitating, I pushed the trashed down with full weight, forgetting the glass inside. I pierced a hole right below my thumb and have since had to readjust to doing things with one hand. As I was upstairs that night checking my email, it dawned on me that the last time I had checked it, only a few hours earlier, I didn't have my "boo-boo." I started thinking about how quickly a life can change with an accident or traumatic news or a joyful occasion like the birth of a baby. My cut, although fairly minimal, had changed my plans and my abilities for that evening.

  This event also began my thinking again to this time last year. Madi was about to turn five and we would celebrate at a local bakery with a princess theme and a few friends. The Christmas cards had been sent, most of the gifts bought, and the second advent candle had been lit. Everything was going along as "planned." This time last year we had no idea what was about to hit our family. We had no idea that Andrew's cough was more than infection.

  As December 22nd approaches, a day that will forever be etched in our memory, Rick and I are faced with many different emotions. We of course are so joyful to have another Christmas with our precious Andrew. We rejoice in God's healing and His faithfulness. However, we also find certain songs bringing us quickly to tears. Pulling out Christmas decorations that I had so fervently stashed away two days before Andrew's long stay in the hospital brought about some feelings of rage and indifference. At one point I wanted to throw it all out the window and forget Christmas. Our lives were changed last year as individuals and as a family. The "dreaded" date approaches and so many memories come flooding back into my head. But time will not stop. We will get there and we will survive. We will mourn the loss of "innocence" that was taken from our boy that day and rejoice in the amazing beauty that came from the ashes. We will hold each other a little tighter and be thankful, Lord willing, that we have nowhere we have to be after Christmas.

  Before and After. Many of Rick and I's conversations have referred to "before Andrew had cancer" or "after we made it through his treatments." Our lives refer to this time period because although it feels like ages ago at times, it was only last year that we lived it.

  And we are amazed at where we are now. Before Andrew had cancer, I had never felt the love of God or His people like I have this year. Before Andrew had cancer, I didn't have a beautifully made blanket by a friend to keep me warm or some new Christmas decorations given in care packages. I wasn't as close to my parents or my sister-in-law and her family. Before Andrew had cancer, I thought I was somewhat in control of life and what happened to my family. I believed I knew how things would bring deeper character. Before it, I believed I would never survive the news of a family member having a tumor, let alone make it to the other side. I didn't have a new friendship that began with meals and has blossomed into real life. Before Andrew had cancer, I had never been more terrified of losing something so dear and so relieved when God decided I could keep him. I have learned to pray more and trust more in my heavenly Father rather than myself.

 Our family has made it to the other side. This year we didn't just survive, but we flourished. We became stronger, more dependent, hopefully more thankful people. It has been a wild year and we will give praise once again to the little baby that came at Christmas and is mighty to save!

     Below are two Christmas pictures. The first one is our "before" taken last Christmas and the next one is our "after" taken this Christmas season! Merry Christmas to you and your families!

Deja Vu

 Everything is quiet except for a faint noise that is coming from upstairs. It has lessened, but it is there all the same. It is a cough. A cough that brings with it so many memories and horrible nightmares. For the past week or so, Andrew has had a cough. The doctor said that is was just the common cold and his last scan showed nothing out of the ordinary. Still the cough that has been here for the past two nights has brought some anxiety.

     A few nights ago we were at Target as a family just getting a few things for Rick's new, amazing office in Staunton. The kids love to look down the toy aisles and dream about birthday presents and Christmas gifts they might get. We were walking around almost ready to checkout and the cough started. It kept going and going through the checkout line, into the car, driving out of the parking lot, and on the road home. It kept up so much that it made Andrew sick. We cleaned him up, settled the other thrree kids down in bed, and continued to care for our coughing boy. After almost 2 hours, I had to take a break. I went down to do some theraputic cleaning and get ready for the next day. Rick called me back upstairs to help him out and Andrew had gotten pretty sick. However, he had stopped coughing. We don't know if he was actually choking on something and just had to "get it up" or what, but after that episode, he was fine and exhausted. Rick and I were a mess and just emotionally drained from it all. Sweet Andrew kept talking to us the whole time about Disney World and roller coasters he wants to go on next time he goes and just kid things. He is such a trooper with his joyful spirit and his "sick bucket." He fell asleep around 9pm and slept the whole night without one cough. Rick and I proceeded downstairs to debrief and just hold one another. So much for picture hanging and planning that we had on the schedule for that night.

 Then last night it happened again. Right after bathtime (Rick was at a meeting) Andrew started coughing and just couldn't stop. This time he didn't get sick, but it just kept nagging him. The girls went to bed and I pulled Andrew out of his room so Luke could fall asleep. We lay on the bed together just talking, praying, and singing. He was so sweet. He just wanted to talk between coughs and try to get to sleep. At one point I just lost it and put him back in his bed so I could escape for a little while. I need to just "clean" or something to try and gain some idea of control. Of course at night and without Rick, my mind was going crazy. I keep thinking about all we went through, the x-rays, the "innocent" cough he had this time last year, and what might be lurking in his little body. I thought about how I could not handle the news again, and just wept over the brokenness of cancer and lives that are affected by this awful disease. It is not a "one time" encounter. The fear and memories continue to haunt us. As I was tucking him in to go downstairs, I told Andrew I was going to pick up and get into my pj's. He sat straight up, looked at me, and said, "Mom, do you have animals or Thomas the Trains on your pj's?" He was not worried at all about his cold, he needed to know what my pj's looked like. I kissed him and prayed as I shut the door that he would be able to stop coughing and go to sleep.
 The coughing slowed until finally he was asleep. I sat downstairs with a glass of water and my scrapbooks spread all over the family room floor. I looked through wedding pictures, seminary pictures, baby books, family parties, and trips, and even glanced quickly at the hospital stay last December. The memories and trials of my life filled my  mind and heart. There are many situations that I thought Rick and I would never make it through. Cancer being the biggest. But we did. We made it through. We still struggle and remember and fear. We still wonder if God will bring that awful beast back into our lives. I think about our amazing Make a Wish trip and I hope that was the pretty bow that tied up the end of that chapter. We will see. Thankfully, I don't have to know. I have no idea what my path will have in it next or how we will make it through. But Jesus does and He promises to never leave me nor forsake me.
 I prayed last night before I closed my eyes that my children (all of them) would be spared from major health problems. I reread Psalm 91...a Psalm I prayed over Andrew multiple times especially verses 14-16. I asked God to bring this mother's heart peace to sleep last night and to trust that our doctors will lead us through all this. And I fell asleep to a quiet house.

A Little Piece of Heaven

"A little piece of heaven..." there is really no other way to describe this past week. Imagine a place where you never doubt that you'll be taken care of, or forgotten, or allowed to be free to experience all your dreams, or to just feel special all the time. That is what this Make A Wish trip was like. The neat thing was, this trip was because Andrew had cancer, but it truly was for the whole family. As Andrew's parents, we could tell he was treated a little differently, but all of us were made to feel special. All of us were treated like royalty and allowed to do everything we wanted. This trip allowed us to celebrate as a family the victory we had over cancer and to feel like everyone we came in contact with understood our battle and celebrated with us. Let me spend most of this blog sharing our week and the great memories we made.

 From the moment we began the trip on Monday morning, we were honored. We were picked up in a stretch limo at our family's house.

  We were ushered to the front row of the airplane and cared for the whole flight. When we landed, we were greeted by a "Give Kids the World" representative holding a sign that said, "Wecome Andrew Gilmartin!" After visiting Avis car rental, we drove away in a 2010 Sienna van. We arrived at the most amazing place to stay we could have dreamed. It is called Give Kids the World and it truly does attempt to do that very thing. We were spoiled rotten with everything from ice cream all day long, free meals, a park that looked just like Candyland for the kids to play, tickets to all the amusement parks in the area including Disney and Universal Studios, and a whole suitcase full of treats for the kids to take home. We were also given parking passes to the parks and a tag to wear that allowed us to go to the front of all the lines. Yes, all the lines (and Disney was crowded). We made it in to see the princesses and Mickey in no time. We rode roller coasters in minutes where others waited for hours to hop on. We even got a private ride on Kilamonjaro safari at Aminal Kingdom. It was amazing. The characters stopped in parades to hug Andrew and high five my kids. We kept feeling guilty for all the other kids, but then reminded ourselves of the year we had with the battle. This was a time to celebrate and allow others to join in that celebration. I think the few highlights were the Princesses that the girls got to meet, the private meeting and signing with Barney after his show, and Andrew's encounter with THE Buzz Lightyear and Woody. He just stood and stared at them. This experience at the parks was truly a magical experience...one we all will never forget.
  Give Kids the World was also almost as magical. Every volunteer was friendly, helpful, and excited to have us there. We had unlimited access to meals, ice cream, and basic supplies. Our family also got to do amazing things like ride a train, visit a castle, and ride horses all at the GKTW. There was also a pool that resembled a beach and water fountains coming up from the ground that Luke loved to run through by himself. The kids actually had a hard time not just staying at Give Kids because they provided so many fun things to do. This amazing place is run by about 30 staff members and over 1500 volunteers daily. They have thought of everything a family with kids would need (stools in the bathrooms, night lights, toys, little tables and chairs, and more.) Again, we just felt like we were living in a dream the entire week we stayed here.

  So, where are we now? Well, we are back in our sweet home together. We have more memories, more stuffed animals, more pictures, and more Mickey ears than ever before. The kids are constantly reenacting their experiences and talking constantly about their time together. We all cried when we had to say goodbye and wished we could stay forever. But like all dreams on earth, it had to come to an end. We had to come back to reality....loads of laundry, preparing meals, homework, grumpiness, and responsibility. Our family added another chapter to our journey story with Andrew. A chapter of joy, celebration, and fun. Make a Wish is truly the most amazing organization ever and we will be forever grateful for the wish we had together last week. We will continue to journey together, keeping our eyes on the One that provided the healing in Andrew's body and the ways we would rejoice together at Disney World. We are thankful beyond words for the "little piece of heaven" we experienced!

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Well, Andrew turned 3 yesterday! He had a great day filled with Toy Story, pirates, friends, cake, and fun. He tells everyone now, "I am 'free' (three) and I am going to Disney World." We had some dear friends over last night for dinner and the first celebration of many. These are friends that are blessings from above that showed up with meals and goodies many times during Andrew's cancer. They are friends that we never met before Andrew got cancer, but did have mutual friends that talked about them. They have 4 lovely kids about the same age as ours and they are truly angels in our lives. We were able to hug and share tears and stories last night with them as dinner was being made. The kids played so well together and didn't want to say goodbye when they had to leave. I still stand in awe of how this friendship came to be and how God provided more than food and treats for both Rick and I through this family. One of the little boys walked in carrying a life size Buzz Lightyear balloon for Andrew. I immediately wanted to burst into tears because this is the same family that sent a life size Elmo balloon to greet us when Andrew's surgery was over in March. It flooded my mind with memories and reminded me of our journey once again. It touched some painful memories, but also the reminder that we didn't walk this journey alone. Anyway, it was a special, meaningful birthday evening with this family and our little boy.

 Today we have another great celebration with some kid friends and their families at the park and then we pack our bags for Disney. We will be leaving tomorrow afternoon to drive to Northern Va to celebrate with family and then jumping in the limo Monday morning!! We are all very excited. We don't know what to expect, and as Rick wrote in his last blog post, we are not sure what emotions will arise. We made it through a tough year and now we get to celebrate. We plan to play hard, sleep less, eat lots, and enjoy each other as a family to the fullest.

White Noise

All of my children sleep with a sound machine. The trend began with Madi's sensory issues and continued for the simple reason that they drown out whatever is going on outside of the room. Drowning out... that is a good way to describe the last few months. I feel like I have been soothed to sleep by the sweet sound of forgetfulness. As the season has changed however, the trees showing the sure signs of the march of time in shades of red and yellow, it seems as if this sound is growing quieter and quieter. Let me explain.

For several months now our family has been really normal. The occasional trip to UVA for what seems like routine appointments do little to cloud the fact that our day to day lives are pretty standard; dropping the girls off at school, boys running, jumping, climbing, meals, snacks, average. Lately, small intrusions into this wonderful world of average have become more frequent. There was the visit from the two young women, volunteers from Make-A-Wish giving us our itinerary and gifts for an upcoming trip to Disney. There is the paper chain counting down days till we leave on said trip. Then of course there is today, Andrew's birthday.

Andrew's birthday will forever be joined to our cancer story because it was his birthday a year ago that we were noticing this cough that wouldn't go away. It was a year ago that we began the march toward the crucible that was December and January. It is hard for the forgetfulness to keep lulling me when such unwanted reminders of reality begin pushing in. Today really begins for us a season of remembrance that, frankly, I would rather not do.

The promotional materials for the resort we will stay at next week, Give Kids the World, note that they strive to help kids forget about the doctors and hospitals, their reality, and have a wonderful time. I wonder if, for us, it will do the exact opposite. As strange as it sounds this trip shatters the illusion that things are normal, that we are normal. Normal families don't get all expense paid trips to theme parks. Normal families don't have badges on their chest that allow them to bypass lines. Normal families aren't told to bring an extra bag for all the stuff that will be given to them. These graces are given to those that have suffered or are suffering. They are gifts meant to both acknowledge that pain and ease it if possible. This trip, from the moment we are picked up to head to the airport to the moment we are dropped off again is a constant silencing of that forgetful sound that has drowned out our reality for the last few months.

The desire for forgetfulness is strong. There is something so powerful in us that reacts to painful circumstances by wanting them to simply go away. We make incredible commitments, internal vows, to avoid thinking about that pain, to not speak about it, and to cover it over as best we can with platitudes. In Christian circles we spiritualize this and sometimes even make it into a virtue. We ask what the possible value can be of dredging up the past and generally demand that everyone else be as committed to our fantasy that none of that ever happened as we are. The problem is it did happen and refusing to look at that has consequences.

The first consequence is that we act differently today because of those painful events. Every time my son has a cough, no matter how irrational I know it to be, I cannot but wonder if his tumor has returned. I have a very difficult time moving in compassion towards others who are struggling with children with a serious illness because it reminds me of my own pain; my love for them is handicapped by my refusal to remember. There are others but I won't belabor the point. What we experienced in the past has an immediate impact on how we act today. If we refuse to enter into those events we will keep doing what we're doing without much reflection and hurt others without much awareness.

The second consequence is that we cannot acknowledge the ways in which God was active in our suffering and pain. This is why God seems to constantly ask his people to practice the discipline of remembrance. So often the Israelites were called to remember their slavery, remember their leaving of Egypt, remember their wandering in the wilderness, remember all that God had done. My guess is many of them would have rather not remembered being homeless in the desert or the terror of not knowing day in and day out whether they would be taken care of but if they didn't remember that they also wouldn't remember how God had walked with them through it. They wouldn't have remembered how God was using that pain and struggle to draw them ever closer to himself and prepare them for life in the land of promise. When we commit to living with the sound of forgetfulness drowning out our reality we also refuse to acknowledge God's work and action through that.

I guess I say all this to remind me that it is good that this season is beginning. That doesn't mean will be comfortable for me, it won't be. I will have to remember that my son still has tumor in his chest. I will have to remember the terror and powerlessness of hearing the diagnosis. I will have to remember and sit in the fear of losing my son, the fear of pain and the unknown. I will be forced to also grapple with the grace of God who heard my prayers. When that sound machine turns off in the coming months I will have to come face to face with what is really going on in my heart but it won't destroy me because the same God who walked with me through the pain last year will be near to me as I walk through the ramifications of it today.

24 days and Counting

 It's been a while since we have blogged, but I wanted to give an update to our still faithful readers. Andrew went for his every three month MRI on Thursday. We got a friend to watch the other kids so both Rick and I could go and have our "hospital date" while the MRI babysat Andrew. He once again amazed us with his carefree spirit and bravery as they put the IV into his arm. Tears were shed, but as soon as it was done, he was smiling and laughing again. They took him back and the whole procedure took about an hour and a half. Rick andI grabbed some drinks and sat outside to chat. I hadn't really been back for a serious visiit since his surgery in March so it affected me more than I thought it would. We will be coming up to a year in October when the little cough in Andrew began. We will begin to experience the months that seemed so innocent last year, but looking back we see that something big was about to hit our family. As we near his birthday on October 8th, so many emotions come back. As we sat talking and processing through my fears and anxiety being at the hospital, I realized how numb I still am that we even went through this. My son had cancer? We spent our Christmas holiday here? Even with just having a "routine scan" with no major concerns of any return, I am struck again at how abnormal it is for 2 year olds to have to go through this. When we finally were called to come back and pick him up, I felt like I couldn't get out of that place fast enough. Unfortunately, we still had to head up to the clinic to have the doctor check him over. In his groggy state from the anestesia, Andrew looked up at Rick and asked, " Daddy, is this heaven?" No, sir!! This is not heaven, thank goodness. The doc thought he looked great, we grabbed a quick cafeteria lunch, and went home to greet Madi off the bus.
 The call came yesterday around 4:00pm. Actually, I couldn't wait for the call and called the hospital twice to find out the MRI results. We really didn't have any real reason to be nervous, but there is still that lingering thought in the back of our minds. When we finally got the doctor's call, I just held my breath. The words on the other end were wonderful. A cheerful lady said, "Andrew's MRI looks great. His tumor has gotten even smaller!!!" There wasn't much left anyway, but we are even more thankful that it has done what the doctor thought and got even smaller!! Praise our great Physician who continues to hear this mama's prayer each night that we will never have to walk that road again with this little guy!! Please rejoice with us over this great news.
 On another note, we have torn off one more link in our chain that counts down to Andrew's 3rd birthday and when we leave for our Make A Wish trip to Disney World. We will depart from our house after two Buzz Lightyear parties here to go to Northern VA to stay overnight with Rick's family. Then, get this, a 10 passenger LIMO comes to pick us up (4 carseats in a limo....quite different from my prom experience) and takes us to the airport. We fly to Florida, pick up our rental van, and drive to what looks like the most amazing place we could be staying. It is a place called Give Kids the World (look it up online if you can). They pamper us with food, lodging, entertainment, characters, pools, and gifts for the week. They also pass along the Disney park passes and all the added benefits that go along with that. Our "send off" party is this Monday night with our reps who show up with dessert and fun for our kids and all the info we will need for our trip. The kids are so excited and their mom can't stop thinking about it all day long! What a celebration. I think it is perfect timing too that we just went to an MRI at the hospital. The emotions that flooded back after just being there for a few hours reminded me that this kid deserves every second of this trip and we will probably cry over what we went through, but we will also spend many moments celebrating and rejoicing at the gifts that God has given to us. The best gift being our son's life!!

Letting Go

 We have approached a new chapter in the life of our household. The chapter of going to school. After a few days this summer with the kids I thought for sure I was prepared. I would imagine what it would be like to only have 3 kids at home and then possibly 2. Nothing could have prepared me for today. Madi, my 5 year old, was going off to kindergarten. She had done preschool last year, but this was a totally different experience for me. I was getting ready to send my little girl into the big ole world for several hours away from me. Gone were the days of mornings in our pj's or naps after lunch. Nope, Madi was growing up.
  There are some factors that contribute to my anxiety with sending Madi "away" to school rather than homeschooling her, but overall, I was just generally nervous. Will she make friends? Will she find her classroom? Will she make it to the bathroom? Will the day be too long for her? Will she get lost in the crowd? All those questions and more swirled through my head as the day drew closer. We took her out and got her the new school outfit and bookbag and lots of school supplies. We prepped her for all we could with her schedule and her teacher. I met with her teacher, the principal, and some other teachers that will be involved with Madi this year and realized that God had laid a perfect path for my little girl. He had already taken care of all the details that I was worrying about and it was going to be fine.

 Two days before the "big day", I began to get emotional. I would just stop and stare at her as she played and wonder where my toddler had gone. I would look through old family scrapbooks and reread the captions to her baby pictures. Didn't we just bring her home from the hospital? Wasn't it just yesterday that we were teaching her to walk, or brush her teeth, or draw people on paper? Where had the time gone? Rick has a great quote that he has used several times during this season..."Time is a wicked tyrant that waits for no one." Time marches on whether we like it or not. Whether we are prepared and ready, or not.
 So, today with a lump in my throat, I straighted her collar, gave her a healthy breakfast, took some pictures, prayed for her, and sent her to school with her dad. She was excited, nervous, and so very grown up looking. I thought of her constantly throughout the day and would look at her schedule that her teacher gave us that is on the fridge just to see where she was at that moment. I chatted with friends, checked the answering machine just to make sure the school hadn't called, and waited. I waited to see what this day had brought for her. At 2:45, I loaded the rest of the gang into the van to go pick her up. I waited in the car line and as we started moving I felt more nervous than I had all day. This was the moment that I had been waiting for...was she happy, sad, or nervous? Was she still in the same clothes that we had gotten her ready in? Did her world grow in great ways that day? As I pulled around the loop to open her door, there she stood. With the biggest smile on her face I had ever seen. She cheered when she saw my van and leaped into the car shouting, "Everyone, I had a great day at school." I immediately burst into tears of thankfulness. Madi had done it. She had made it through the first day and would make it through the next one. She seemed so grown up when she talked about her day and told me all the fun she had, the songs she sang, and the teacher she already loved. I was so proud of her and so excited about her year to come. We will make it!! I wasn't sure last night, but tonight I know that with God's help Madi and her emotional mother will make it through kindergarten. I am not sure about college or a wedding yet, but thankfully I don't have to think about that now. God has been so faithful to our family in so many ways this year...this is one more example of His deep love for each of us.

If You are Wondering

 Today was Andrew's "big" day. Today was the big drive over the mountain to get his VMA and HVA levels checked. He is pretty laid back about it. He gets his Toy Story toys, his dee-dee (blanket), his snack, and little Spiderman back pack and heads out to the car. Today his sister was going with us to go to Occupational Therapy in Charlottesville, so he even had a buddy to sit next to and play with in the van on the way up. Madi and I dropped him and daddy off at the clinic and headed off. About an hour later we heard the news
 "Good news, " Rick said. The doctor thinks Andrew looks great and he thinks he is doing so well that he has bumped his scans further one month. And we only need physicals and urine checks each month, not blood. He determined that Andrew's HVA scores kept jumping up and down so randomly, that that wasn't a good indicator with what was going on inside. So, we will do another physical next month and then not do the scans until September, rather than August. And....we only have to do one day MRI's instead of a three day scan schedule with the MIBG. That is wonderful news. That means that Andrew looks so good and things are progressing so well that the head of Oncology at UVA is less concerned than ever. I got tears in my eyes immediately thanking God once again for sparing my son and running through the large amount of memories that I have of that hospital over the last 8 months. We are celebrating once again and so thankful for our son's good health record.
 Another bit of exciting information regarding our celebration. Andrew has been granted his Wish to go to Disney World and we leave October 11th (three days after his 3rd birthday) to fly down with the family for a week at Disney. We are very excited. We even get picked up in a limo at the crack of down to ride to Dulles. We will keep you updated on those details, but what a wonderful way to celebrate another year of Andrew's life and the victory we have!

The Flip Side

 It has been a while since we have written an update on our blog. Life is moving along as it always does. We just got back from a wonderful vacation at our favorite beach in North Carolina. The kids had a great time and Rick and I got to just unwind a little and take a deep breath. Vacation takes on a different meaning when you are a mom. You see, Rick got to leave his job in the Valley, however, I brought most of my job along with me. The difference for me is the phone calls, the house work, the emails, and just the "duties" that go along with the day to day life. I love being with my kids, but needed a break from the routines we become so enslaved to. We were able to just get away, leaving all internet access behind and be a family.

 As we unpacked our loaded van and the kids ran around the beach house claiming their rooms and their beds, I noticed how each one had grown up in many ways this year. Madi was almost in kindergarten and  becoming a beautiful, young girl. Becca had become our dramatic, imaginative child that wanted her bed to be a boat to sail away to grandma's. Luke was taking steps and by the end of the vacation had mastered walking. And our little hero, Andrew, well we decided to put him in his own big boy bed at the beach. We had never tried it before, but he wanted to do it so we thought we would try. The first night as I walked from room to room to check on the kids, I stopped for a while to just stare at the "almost 3 year old boy" sleeping soundly in a big bed. I just watched him and smiled and cried. I smiled because he is growing up and is such an amazing little man. I cried because only a few months ago I didn't think we would be able to go to the beach. The original diagnosis was 8-10 months of treatment and then another check. We were supposed to be in the hospital with chemo, shots, and doctors. However, our Great God saw fit to take us down another path.  Andrew is doing well and enjoying a beach trip to the fullest...without tubes, shots, chemo treatments, and major concerns.  I would stare at him almost in disbelief that he was there, sleeping soundly, doing so well.  My heart is beyond thankful.

 So we continue on with playdates, library visits, bike rides, wading pool time, ice cream cones and fun. We learn each day how to love each other more and respect our differences. We fall down, apologize, and pick ourselves back up. We laugh, cry, shake our fists at the sky when frustrated, and live a little more each day. God had been good to us and we wouldn't be where we are without Him. We even had a neat opportunity (the picture fanatic in me loved this) to have family portraits taken. It is my husband's worst nightmare trying to get four young children straight, looking at the camera, and making a somewhat appropriate face. But, he was sweet enough to give me this gift for Mother's Day. So on two different occasions, we found matching outfits for everyone, went out in the heat a little past bedtime, and took probably 100 shots. Our great photographer did a wonderful job and captured many of our true expressions. I will hang these pictures proudly all over our house. They will be reminders of our story over the last 10 years, especially over the last 8 months. We are stronger than we were and more in love with God and each other because of the journey we have been down.

On another note, Andrew goes for his physical, urine, and blood tests this Thurs, so please pray that everything comes back "normal" once again. Thank you for your love and support!

To Infinity and Beyond

 "To Infinity and Beyond" have been the words flying around our house for the last 7 months. Our kids fell in love with Toy Story and Toy Story 2 as soon as they watched them. They pretended to be those characters, retold the stories, and begged to watch them over and over again. Then, to our surprise, Toy Story 3 began to emerge. This meant toys and games and coloring books and more Toy Story excitement. As Andrew entered the "cancer world" Toy Story came with him. We borrowed the videos from cousins and he toted his Buzz and Woody dolls with him to the hospital to sleep next to him in bed. Nanny found Toy Story pajamas and we tried to brighten his days with scenes from his favorite shows. Those friends have remained close through our battle and still stand on the front lines with us now. We invited them to our "Sundae Dinner" filling our table with toys, plates, napkins, and cups with Buzz, Woody, and their crew. Andrew still zooms around the house with Buzz flying through the air or pretends to push his fake buttons on his pj shirt to open his wings and take off. We have loved having a "theme" over the last few months and of course Andrew's mom has been sold wholeheartedly into it all.

 So of course as Toy Story 3 approached, we all waited excitedly. We counted down the days on the calendar, watched trailers on the computer and rewatched our old favorites with action figures in hand. All three of our big kids couldn't wait to "see" their friends again. We took them to the big movie theatre. We got there so early that we were able to go to the showing before the one we had planned. We filled our hands with drinks, candy, and soda and paraded into the theatre. The kids did remarkable well for their first big theatre show. The dark, loud noises, and huge screen brought out a few cries and snuggles, but overall everyone did great. The three kids heard the music begin and all at once screamed..."BUZZZ" and "WOODY!" They were there right in front of them. Andrew sat on my lap with his Buzz Lightyear shirt on. He munched on 6 cups of popcorn, several twizzlers, and diet Coke. He stared wide eyed at the huge screen the entire time and loved every minute of it. I saw the show through the eyes of my children  It was a good show, but for me a little intense. I wondered how Madi was holding up with the loud noises and special effects. I kept checking on Becca to make sure she wasn't scared of the bad guys and was having a good time. And I sat snuggled with the little blond haired boy that brought this story to life again for me back in December. Several times I even got teary just thinking of our journey together and how brave he had been. Then the last scene of Andy going off to college and having to say goodbye to his mom and his old toys almost brought me down completely. You see time as already gone so fast. I can't believe I have a 5 year old. I can't believe we survived cancer and spring and summer have come for our family. I can't believe my brave little boy is growing up. He is seeing big movies and talking about the potty and how he wants to do big boy things. I can't believe that one day I will be saying goodbye to him and having to say goodbye to his special toys. For that I am not ready. And I am thankful I still have a lot more time. The kids raced out of the theatre pretending to be the characters again. They have spent the last few days flying like Buzz or riding horses like Woody. The toys are all over the house and someone always has one of the characters. And life is as it should be. Kids being kids.

  Andrew goes this Thursday back to UVA for his monthly scans. For some reason it seems like forever since we have been there. I love that feeling, but I still get nervous going back. I still hold my breath that maybe the test results will hold bad news. I still wonder if our battle is over. And I still wonder how in the world we all made it through. Please pray that everything goes smoothly. Please pray that the test results come back clear and not in error. Please pray that we can drive home on Thursday to begin packing for a much needed two week vacation at our favorite beach spot. We will drive away as a family. Much different than we were this time last year. Yet, closer. We are all excited to get away from the rountine of daily life and enter into a world of time slowing down and relaxation. The kids will pack their favorite toy friends and show Buzz and Woody another world that is to "infinity and beyond."

Of Songs and Memories

Hey folks,
  Below is a link to a temporary website that a friend has put up of some of the recordings of the concert. Some of you have been asking about it so I thought I'd pass it along.
http://web.me.com/mccalljk/Pilgrim_Road/Pilgrim_Road.html

Sundae Dinner

 Last night after the kids were in bed, Rick and I had a wonderful talk. I love talking with my husband. He is kind, caring, inquisitive, sensitive, and smart. We talked about our day, the wonderful evening we had had with some new friends, and how we will begin a new week hopefully with much less stress than the last. I shared with him how I had been praying that morning thanking the Lord for the great news about Andrew and wondering if my humble cries to Him all last week actually made the difference with the scan results. No, I am not God, but I do believe that our prayers matter. I just thought for a minute that maybe God had chosen to use my prayers to "sway" His decision with Andrew. Of course He had the ultimate plan laid out, but He does call His people  to pray and to pray boldly knowing that He hears our prayers. Anyway, we talked about that concept for a little while as well as the unfortunate fact that our minds seemed to already be moving on from the great news we received. Sometimes it is easy in the good times to just move on and become independent again and just "forget" what we went through. I didn't want to do this. I told Rick that at the beginning of the week when I was so scared, I shared with God that if He would spare my son, then I would throw a big party or do whatever He wanted. I wanted to shout from the mountain top that God had saved my boy if that would happen. However, my sinful self got involved quickly and the desire to really celebrate lost its appeal. Shouldn't we just move on and get ready for the week or even the "next stress in line?" How awful of me! You see that action is not Biblical. When God blessed the Israelites or spared them from harm, they celebrated. They threw parties and gathered their friends and families and praised God together for what He had done. Rick and I decided right then that the next day would be a day of celebration.

 We told the kids that morning that there would be a party that afternoon. It would be at our house and they wouldn't want to miss it. They made it through church and lunch and even naptime. While they all napped, Rick and I worked the magic. He went to the store and I covered our kitchen with streamers, balloons, a blue tablecloth, and Toy Story plates and napkins (and action figures). As the sleepyheads awoke one by one, we gathered them in Andrew's room and told them the party was about to begin. Rick shared with them the Bible story of celebration and we talked about how scared we had been and how good God had been to our family to heal Andrew. We also told them that this party was not just for Andrew, but for all of us because of what we had made it through and how we could celebrate. We led the kids downstairs to the decorated kitchen and surprised  them with ice cream and all the toppings you could possibly want to make sundaes. As many of you know, I am a time/schedule keeper. The kids can have light snacks when they wake up because we eat pretty early and I don't want them spoiling their supper. So at 4pm when we were dishing the large scoops of ice cream onto their plates my heart turned to rejoicing. The kids didn't really even know what to think. Rick and I helped with Reeses pieces, chocolate chips, gummy bears, syrups, fruit spreads, whipped cream and sprinkles. We piled it high on each plate and let the kids just dive into the candy around them. They ate and laughed and ate some more. By 4:30 we were all stuffed and feeling a little sick, but we were happy. We took the time out of our normal schedule to celebrate. To remember the God that has been faithful this entire time and continues to bless us with life. It was a great time with our kids. They were way too full to have dinner so we camped in front of, what else, but Toy Story before going upstairs to play and read before bed. Our family has learned that it is easy to mourn loss and feel negative emotions when bad times hit. However, it can be a little harder to take time and rejoice together and remember that God loves to give good gifts to His children.

Disappearing Act

 Here is the continued story. We were relieved on Wednesday afternoon to learn about the crazy urine test that had come back way too high for our liking. When the nurse told Rick in the clinic that the second test had come back and it was only 12.8 instead of 30.7, we were relieved to say the least. We took many deep breathes and shed tears of relief and praise. It is funny going through such a traumatic event such as cancer though. Part of me thought I would do leaps and cheers around the house when I found out the news, but instead I responded to Rick's call with a "oh that is good news" and a fairly monotone voice. You see when you get a scare like cancer returning in your son's body, you (or I did) spend so much energy and time worrying, praying, predicting what life will look like if bad news hits, that when good news comes in, you are thrilled, but the depleted energy in your body has to catch up to the thrill in your heart. It is a very strange experience. Anyway, knowing the normal levels of Andrew's test going into the scans this last week made the trips to UVA much easier. I decided to stay with the other three kids and try to keep everything as normal for them and Rick was an awesome dad and went with Andrew all three days.
 Wednesday, day 1 of the scans, Rick took Andrew up to the clinic for his "traveling IV" and his injection of radioactive isotope. The boy amazed us from the start as he only shed a few tears when the nurse put in the needle and then he was ready to hit the town again. That day was a short visit, but one of getting used to for the children at home. The girls studied Andrew's IV and covering when he arrived home and asked tons of questions. They wanted to make sure he wasn't hurting, that he didn't have to sleep at the hospital and that he was not sick again. It was interesting how much the IV jogged their memory of the last few months and the hospital time. Madi, my sweet sensitive girl, especially asked questions and just intermalized stress during this time. Andrew even asked me when I tried to put him down for a nap if he was going to sleep in his home crib or have to go back to the hospital.
 Thursday, day 2 of the scan day, Rick had to have Andrew up and out of the house by 6:00am. He wasn't allowed to eat anything due to the sedation and he wasn't thrilled about being woken up. This day was a pretty easy, straight-forward day. Andrew had his part 1 MIBG that was a 3 hour scan. Rick attempted to finish his sermon in the hospital cafeteria, but that proved pretty pointless with all the distraction both around him and within his heart. Andrew "woke up" around 11am and was home by 12:30pm. He seemed okay, however, the girls once again took immediate notice of the fact that he still had his IV on his arm and he wasn't home for good. The questions arose again about his cancer and why he had to go back to the hospital. A side note about this day...it was Rick and I's 10 year anniversary. We were blessed with a dear friend to babysit the kids and a night out to have a nice meal and share our hearts. We went down memory lane with where we were 10 years ago and how much life had changed. Had we ever dreamed we would be doing this with one of our children?
 Friday, day 3 and the last day of our scans, was a little more frustrating than the day before. We received a call Thurs night from one of the techs at the hospital asking if we could come earlier on Friday to have Andrew's MRI  We thought this would be beneficial to our time, however, Rick ended up being there from 8am until 12:30pm. Andrew was sedated for part 2 of the MIBG and then transferred to radiology for his MRI. He was home for the afternoon with some new Toy Story toys in hand. He just continues to amaze us. He sat in the waiting room with Rick, with no toys or books for over an hour waiting to go back. He didn't complain at all about being back at the hospital. He didn't mess with his IV in his arm the entire time he had it in. And he bounced right back after all the procedures.
   Rick called on his way back from the hospital to let me know he was coming and to tell me that everything went okay. As soon as I hung up with him, I received a call from one of the techs at the hospital. Apparently even after almost 6 hours of sedation and scans over the past few days, the doctors discovered that there was still an area that hadn't been scanned. The tech asked me if I thought Andrew would be able to remain still for 30 minutes while they did one more scan on his body. I boldly stated "no" and the tech let me know that he would pass that info along and a doctor would get back with me. About an hour later the phone rang and the "familiar" UVA hospital number appeared on our caller ID. I answered the phone only to hear our oncologist's voice on the phone. He proceeded to tell me that he had gotten the images back from the scans and needed to talk with both Rick and I on the phone!!!! My heart sank. This doctor in the past had had no problem giving me information on the phone without Rick. Now he wanted us both on the phone? What could this mean? I walked through the house trying to hold myself together. I called for Rick and told him the doctor was on the phone and we both needed to hear the news. My voice was shaky and my mind was already racing. Rick and I sat together as the oncologist informed us basically that everything looked GREAT!! The MIBG scans showed that less cancer remains than before and the cells are dying. He is very pleased with Andrew's progress and things are going as well as they could. He then began to try to explain what could have happened with the crazy urine test...explaining that it must have been diet or antibiotics. To say the least we were pleased with the news. Whenever I hear the oncologist on the phone my heart almost stops. I know I might hear information that could change everything forever. Once the words come out, you can never go back. So to hear words of encouragement and hope only lifted the incredible fear that had been living in my heart for almost 2 weeks. The cancer is DISAPPEARING and the battle is being won. Andrew is fine and our boy is back in our house sleeping soundly with no IV in his arm, only some war bruises on his body from the battle that he has been fighting for 6 months. Thank the grand General that he serves whom has led the fight and conquered the grave.

Exhale

Dear friends, family and faithful readers,
 You can all exhale as Rick and I just did because we found out that the urine test was a fluke. The number that we were concerned about was 30.7 and the new test results came in....it is only 12.8!! That number is in the range of normal for Andrew so as far as we know, everything is fine. We are very relieved and thankful. The scans will go on as planned for this week, but we will not be as worried about the doctors finding more tumor growth or tumor spreading. Thanks for your prayers and please continue them for all of us. We will let you know how all the scans come out after they are all over. Stay tuned!

Pray for Nothing

 Well, just to keep this type A personality on her toes, I found out yesterday afternoon that our scans for Andrew are this week. Yep. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. We have to scramble for medicines he needs and childcare and rearranging our schedules. We have to figure out who can stomach the IV insertion that Andrew will have on Weds and will have to come home with for three days (one guess who that lucky person will be...hint....not me). We have to figure out what schedules can be rearranged. Luke's one year check up can wait a little while longer and anniversary dinners might have to be postponed. It is crazy. These scans were scheduled at three months for Andrew anyway, but we are having to hurry them because of a hopefully incorrect urine test. The ironic part is, we drove the second sample to UVA last Friday to just be able to be at ease that the urine number was right and now we will find out the scan results before the new test comes back on Thursday afternoon. So, needless to say we are a little frazzled. We are a little (and a lot) nervous. Rick and I are still very hopeful that the test was a fluke, but of course right now we dont't know for sure. We don't know if this week will be another drastic change in the Gilmartin family. We don't know if we will be admitted the hospital to begin another "plan" of attack to fight off the enemy that wages war in our son's body. We don't know if we will get pleasing results and be able to just "get back to normal." So we wait. We pray. We hope. We lean on dear friends and family. We hug our little ones tighter each day. We will keep you updated as we find anything out.
 The first procedure is tomorrow (Weds the 19th) at 2:30pm. Andrew will go to the clinic at UVA and have an IV put in his arm. Then he will go to radiology to have a radioactive agent injected in his body. This agent will cling to any cancer cells in his body. On Thursday he and Rick will report to the radiology office again at 7:00am!!! That means Andrew goes without breakfast at 6:00AM to the hospital. The scan will run from 8:00am until around 11am. This MIBG will focus on the "hot spots" in Andrew's body. The radioactive agent will light the cancer cells up like Christmas lights and let the scanners know where the cancer is. Then on Friday Andrew will go back again (we will not check into the hospital...all outpatient) by 9am to have the more focused MIBG and an MRI done. He will probably be there at least until 1pm. Now, we all have to remember that these scans were planned for June. All of them were scheduled as routine for his first year after having cancer, so the doctor hasn't issued any more than necessary. He also hasn't  told Andrew to be admitted or given us reason for real concern. The only thing that changed was the date of the scans and the confusing urine test that was "too high." So there is still great hope that nothing has changed and Andrew is fine. This is what I keep telling myself. This is what Rick and I keep repeating to ourselves. This is what we are clinging to in those late hours of the night. We cling to this and we cling to our God that is faithful and will bring us through. Please pray for healing in Andrew's body. Pray that nothing more has grown or spread and that these remaining cells will begin to breakdown and disappear. We will keep you all updated! Thanks for your love and support!

One Day at A Time

  I have received several emails or phone calls regarding updates on the answers the doctor was able to give with the urine test Andrew had a week and a half ago. Basically, when I finally was able to talk to the oncologist, his words were, "I find Andrew's test very baffling." When Andrew was first diagnosed, this test number was a 17. Right before the tumor was taken out it was a 22. Last month when he had his physical screening, the number was 13 and this month.....well, it is a 30.7. The doctor is perplexed as to how Andrew' numbers could have jumped that high after a great month last month including a clear MRI. Needless to say, Thursday evening was a very stressful, upsetting evening for me. I cried like never before with fear of the cancer returning and having to go back through the whole thing all over again. When I would lay down to try to go to sleep, my mind would race as if in fast forward with images of the hospital, chemo treatments, shots, hairloss, and many others. I was close to a panic attack several times. After a wonderful talk with my mom and a calming embrace from Rick, I finally drifted off to sleep.
 The next day, Friday, was filled with plans to get another urine test up to the hospital as quick as possible for a retest. One of our research friends assured me that diet, antibiotics, stress and other factors can affect this test. The nurse that was at UVA even mentioned both how wonderful Andrew looked and also how lab tests can get messed up all the time. A retest was the thing to do. So, I loaded Andrew and Becca into the car and drove over the mountian with a fresh sample in a brown, cooled bag. An interesting side note...Andrew was very excited to show off "his hospital" and bounded all over the place once we got there. Becca on the other hand was thinking about many things. She would sit quietly in the car on the way up and all of a sudden come up with a question about Andrew's crib at the hospital or whether we had to stay there or if this would hurt Andrew. She still thinks about the time when he was sick and gets nervous. Anyway, after I dropped the sample off and spoke to the most helpful, wonderful nurse, I was feeling better. My thoughts are that it is a misread or mistested sample and things will be fine. We have to wait a whole week to get results back because the test had to be sent to Minnesota...who knows why. In the meantime, the oncologist is trying to move up Andrew's June scans to May just to be on the safe side. He still feels confident there were no variables in the tests, but can't tell me why the numbers are so high. He just wants to be safe. I am fine with that.
 I ask that you would just continue to pray. Pray that nothing would come back alarming. Pray for clear scans and clear eyes to interpret the tests. Please pray for our hearts as we wait this week for the news. The nights are the worst for me. Pray that we would continue to walk by faith and trust in the God that has already paved this way for us. We will keep you updated and thank you again for staying involved during this ordeal. We need it!