At last

Two years and four months ago, our world was turned upside down. A little four year old who had been coughing for weeks was finally told why he was sick.  Either leukemia or lymphoma the doctor said. It turned out to be T-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Lymphoma, or Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. Cancer.

Since then, we have been on a series of scheduled visits to the hospital in Windsor and London. And to make life more interesting, we also made impromptu visits whenever a fever popped up or some other nasty surprise.

The first year, Luis was kept in a bubble to protect his frail, little body from the sick germs all around us. We played in the house and outside and barely left the house. Finally after about 10 months, he was able to be around other kids more regularly and he started at an in-home day care to ease him into it. By September 2013, he was doing fairly well and returned to his original day care and began kindergarten.

In the last year, time has flown by. Many times, I would have to remind myself that he was a child with cancer because he was such a normal kid. He went to school, he played T-ball, he had his buddies come over.

Since the first week of Luis' illness, we have been collecting his bravery beads from the hospital.  Every bead represents a part of Luis' journey. For example, the yellow wooden beads represent every day he was administered chemo, either orally or by needle.

It was with great emotion that I counted the beads today to see what he has gone through:

Blood Transfusions: 4

Pokes: 124

Lumbar punctures (chemo in spine while under general anesthesia): 24

Bone marrow samples drawn: 2

Days in isolation in hospital: 42

Chemo days: 603

And now, at last, the day has come that I say that my son is a cancer survivor. On September 10, 2014, Luis had his last chemotherapy treatment in London.

To officially complete the protocol, he was required to take his 'at-home' chemo for five days, which makes today his official last day of chemo. Amen!  For over a year and a half, every night Luis would stop eating by 7:30 p.m. and he would go to bed. At 9:30 p.m., I would suit up in my nitrile gloves, measure out his chemo into syringes, and carry him to the bathroom half asleep to administer his 'at-home' chemo. When he started this medication, he was a thin little thing, about 35 lbs our so. Since then, he has grown taller and heavier, nearly 50 lbs, making me feel like a superhero, heaving him onto my hip every night. Tonight was the last night.

There was so much emotion flowing through me this week. I've been reflecting on where we started, what we've been through, and finally where we are today.

He did it. He beat a 'life-threatening illness'. And according to the doctors, his outlook is good. The doctor could offer no guarantees, but life doesn't offer guarantees anyway. We got where we are today through the love, prayers and support of many friends, family, medical staff, volunteers, complete strangers, and many organizations that support families facing childhood cancer. My heart has been forever changed by the support we've received and all I can do to truly express my gratitude is to pay it forward. And I always will.

--Mommy