Our Son

How does one go about choosing the right place to treat a cancer that we are told usually wins?

We have been treading water for 2 weeks, our lives changed forever, without hardly seeing our beloved Cruz and now we are tasked with vetting hospitals and doctors to make the most unthinkable decision. Where will our 7-month-old receive Chemotherapy? The heaviest weight on us at the moment, try to save his life. We both have our moments of absolute strength and soul-crushing weakness. Thankfully, we have each other to be strong when the other simply can not. We are doing our very best, and that somehow seems to be just not enough.

We are jumping through hoops to obtain medical records, to share MRI and CT Imaging (doctors asking us to send discs….discs?) To send pathology by mail there and back to get a second opinion that we feel strongly we need. To simply gather a pathology report…COVID won’t allow in-person pick up of some of the records we need. We are hitting roadblocks and red tape all while hearing doctors give us percentages that crush our souls.

So we make a spreadsheet. We track these experts’ names, locations, protocols (which is best for Kai?). We think through how we can logistically make this all happen in the next week or so. How we can squeeze just a tiny bit of family normalcy in before we start this nasty regiment. Before our baby gets pumped full of poison. It’s impossible.

We educate ourselves as best as possible and trust that wherever we go, we have each other and we will get through this. We keep saying we will get through it. But I can hardly manage to get through most hours. I’m being knocked down all day and am trying to keep the strength to get back up, for him, for Kai. He deserves it all and more.

This is so awful. It’s that simple. It’s just absolutely terrible.