Last night, after a few days in Addenbrookes with Lola on her first chemo since surgery, I arrived home to a letter from the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital in Birmingham.
It reads,
"I am pleased to inform you that the tumour has been completely resected from Dolores right humerus and there was indeed 100% necrosis. This is obviously very good news and we have informed the oncologist that she may resume her post-operative chemotherapy."
Nancy and I read and reread the letter, then struggled to reach Lola and Martin by phone. My heart was exploding with happiness that the chemotherapy that had been so gruelling for Lola appeared to have killed all the Ewing's cells in the tumour... ALL of them. The best possible news we could wish for at this point in the treatment. Lola's reaction was, typically, understated... "Great...".. and back to the film!
Despite obviously feeling elated at the result, in contrast, I am all over the place! Having passed the half way mark, with good, no, great response under our belts, for some unknown reason I seemed to realise last night that Lola has, or had, cancer. All the way through the treatment so far, I have tried really hard to remain pragmatic, take each day and value it as it comes, remain aware of all the possible outcomes. I have never sought out statistics, preferring to look at my child as an individual. I have certainly come to believe in the strength of united positivity, hope and love ... it's helping Lola, all of us, through some tough times.
I can't explain the emotions that surfaced with the letter except that, when I acknowledged good news and real hope, perhaps I allowed myself to think a little more about what's happening. Until we have a consultation with Amos, I'm not clear what the histology results mean for Lola. I want to hear that the cancer is gone, forever, and that Lola is better. I know that no one can tell us that, only time. I know too that she still has to complete the next series of treatment, I think 7 more sessions of chemotherapy over the next 6 months or so, so the risks of neutropenia, temperatures, fungal infections etc are still there, and weight loss. The difference is, I suppose, that we now have proof that the chemotherapy works for Lola, that it did kill the tumour, and that she isn't going through the discomfort in vain.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Keeping family, friends and those interested updated on my daughter's battle against cancer.
Can't write on here what I said to Joe when he told me that it had 100% gone, you'll have to ask him, but what great news right now, lots of love and hugs jd x
ReplyDeleteThe hardest part of all of this journey is the realisation that something very serious has happened to your child. For the early parts, we are swept away in the day to day routines of chemo, blood tests, infections and the rigmarole that goes with this. We are surrounded by people whose children are the same as, if not worse than, our own children and it all becomes common place in our lives. And then one day we have the very very clear realisation that this is a really scary, life threatening disease. So, now you have realised this, put that feeling away, and carry on with the mundane trips to Addenbrookes, the highs and the lows of the last few chemo sessions and finally, allow yourself to imagine the future... It's a great place to be... love as always Elaine and Alex xxxx
ReplyDeleteWith serious illnesses acceptance takes a long time and comes at the strangest moments. 6 more months of chemo must be a daunting prospect, but here's to those dispicable drugs that have done their job so far. Great news xxxx
ReplyDeletep.s Great post Elain and Alex (=
thanks joe
ReplyDelete