Thanksgiving is a time of year in which we give thanks for everything we have in our life. It could have been very easy for me, and my family, to be cynical about that concept this year. If I am honest, at time, I have. However, as we celebrated the day at home with my parents and mother-in-law I found myself as thankful as ever. Maybe even more then ever. This whole war with cancer has been awful for sure. No denying that with a bunch of positivity slogans or memes. In my past I have always championed living in the moment with as much zest and fervor as possible. Then Amos was diagnosed with cancer, and for a while I was finding myself wishing away time until the day he was all better. Somewhere along the way though I realized that I did not want to do that anymore. Although, as I said, this time has been so awful at times, it has not been all awful all of the time. There have been moments of nothing short of mind blowing inspiration, and brief respites of pure joy as well. I don't expect anyone to necessarily understand, but it is true.
^Seeing Amos and Grandma Kay watch the Thanksgiving Day Parade and giggling their way through playtime on a beautiful fall afternoon is a moment of thankfulness. The thing about terrible moments is that if you don't allow that moment to take over the rest of the moments to come then it can actually serve to make the good moments seem even better because of the appreciation in the contrast. Much like I have learned in my risky career choices that one never feels so alive as when they just cheated death, the same is true for moments of joy and sorrow. The depths of despair serve to make the heights of joy feel all that much more glorious.
^Nonni and Amos reading stories after a huge turkey dinner in our own home leads me to beg the question, "How can you not appreciate and be happy in this moment?". Just a few short months ago Amos would not be with us if not for the miracles of modern medicine. This moment with his Nonni is a result of a second lease on life. Amos will never really understand this, but I hope he doesn't have to for a while and gets to grow up just like any other young kid who doesn't get it yet.
^I am so grateful that he gets to nap on his Grandpa's chest with full bellies of turkey and all the dressings. We were fortunate to have a long home stay leading into the transplant round. Unexpectedly, our home stay was slightly extended when Amos' bone marrow donor received an unfavorable diagnosis on a biopsy of his leg disqualifying him as a donor. It seems that our donor may have learned he will have to face some health issues of his own as a result of attempting to donate his marrow to our son. We have no idea who he is or what ails him, but I wish him the best. As a result, our timeline was delayed a few days requiring us to move to our second donor, which is going to be harvesting stem cells from the donated umbilical chord of some mother and child creation. Yes, that's right I said stem cells. I have come to a greater understanding of what that politically charged term actually means and for us it will hopefully be a life saver.
^We got the call on the Monday following Thanksgiving that they had the umbilical chord all lined up and they were ready for us to come get started the following day. We successfully prepared as best we could to get ready over the home stay. We were able to fatten Amos up an additional three pounds and he was rested, plump, and happy. We suited our little boy up in his samurai suit again and marched into battle. The first dose of the chemo drug Busulfan came at 5am on Tuesday morning, and the charge of the cancer castle was on.
^Our little warrior is so tough and prepared that he is unfazed at the prospect of chemotherapy. He just maxes and relaxes his way through the dose each day. Amos has handled the nausea like a champ so far as we have now progressed through the four-day regimen of Busulfan. He received one day of rest before the next four-day chemo round of high dose Cytoxin. This dose of Cytoxin is the big "sledge hammer" treatment that will totally wipe him out. He will basically be poisoned to within inches of his life and then kept alive through the worst sickness most humans could ever face with artificial interventions of medications and careful monitoring. Mouth sores, seizures, fevers, infections, and all kinds of other possible complications await us in this final battle to win this war. However, we are ready to fight.
^As we toil through the hardships of this treatment to end this cancer once and for all we must all try to remember that although life can be horrible sometimes, it can also be so wonderful. That the very nature of this in the human existence is necessary to actually be able to fully appreciate the wonderful moments of our lives. I am reminded of a lecture I watched once from, David Steindl-Rast, in which he explains how we have all gotten the concept of gratefulness and happiness backwards. Happiness does not create gratefulness, but in turn it is the grateful person who finds happiness. One who can first be grateful to even have the opportunity to live this human existence will find that through gratefulness for each moment of life, happiness will be found. Not every moment can be happy, but excepting that each moment is its own slice of time and being grateful for even having the chance to experience these moments leads to the next moment and the chance for that moment to be a happy one. I encourage clicking the links I made to watch the lecture. It really is quick profound, and especially within this context of my son's fight. So as the first dose of the dreaded Cytoxin slips into Amos' veins and we await the terrible turmoil of the side effects to come as we march headlong into the greatest battle of our lives, I find myself a grateful man. Grateful Amos is still alive to have the chance to fight and win. Grateful to have the sweetest little golden puppy and the strongest woman I have ever known by my side as we wade across the moat of cancer's daunting castle behind our little samurai warrior. Grateful for my parents, my brother, my in-laws, and all of the people who are taking up arms behind us. Grateful for modern medicine and the unrelenting labor of the staff of this world-class hospital, Primary Children's Medical Center. Grateful to even have had the chance to know this amazing little boy we have named Amos. Despite enduring the worst of moments he somehow still manages to find reasons to smile through all of it… and that little tiny smile makes me so happy. Even if only for a moment. I have learned that moment is about as good as it gets, and I am grateful for each and every one.
David Stendl-Rast's Ted Talk lecture, "Want to be Happy? Be Grateful":
http://www.ted.com/talks/david_steindl_rast_want_to_be_happy_be_grateful?language=en
