I have said it before, and I will say it again.
Go To Hell, cancer, GO TO HELL!
So, you decided to show your ugly face here again. You decided that 2 years of *hell* for our little boy just wasn't enough. You decided that you would use the cure from your first attack, to cause your second invasion. You decided that the poisons running through our son's veins, and bathing his brain weren't damaging enough.
You came back.
You picked the wrong kid.
Our resolve is strong, and our anger is real. How dare you come back, after we beat you into oblivion. How dare you show yourself by invading our son's bone marrow. How dare you steal this school year from him. How dare you threaten to kill him. How dare you show up on bone marrow smears under a microscope, mocking everyone who tries to obliterate you.
I have read up on you. I know so many of your secrets. I read your biography. I am asking others to read it too. Young children used to scream in agony as their bones shattered from the pressure of all the leukemic cells in their marrow. Can you hear them, back through time? Can you hear the parents weeping for their children?
Hear this now.
We have a perfect match volunteer donor somewhere on the other side of our planet. She is waiting for the call from our doctors to go have her hips punctured to harvest her marrow. That marrow will be shipped via special courier to our side of the planet, processed, and placed into Alex's body within 24 hours of the extraction.
We will prepare Alex's body for this life-saving transplant by irradiating his body twice a day, for four days straight. THEN, we will poison him to the brink of death with a Chemo that is a derivative of MUSTARD GAS. Yes cancer, we will poison our son, with both toxic chemicals, and with high-dose radiation, in order to wipe you out.
Alex is strong. He is aware of what you are doing to him. He is wise well beyond his years. He flushes his new Hickman Line just as well as the nurses. He is going into this with his eyes open.
He is only six years old. Damn you, cancer. Alex's body is riddled with scars we can see, and with scars we cannot. His body has had more procedures than most people have in their whole lifetime.
On the first day of school, while his friends walk into their new classroom, he will be walking into a lead box for radiation.
I know life isn't fair. I know life isn't supposed to be a bed of roses.
I also know that this "nuclear option", this bone marrow transplant will work.
Your days are numbered.
Start counting.
We are.
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Good luck is all I got. But, I mean it from the bottom of my heart.
ReplyDeleteLove this post. So sad but so strong.
ReplyDeleteI understand the dichotomy of rage and gratitude, and there is nothing fair about this. I found it completely undoing, as a mom, to be sitting on a ship heading to transplant, and you don't get to be at the helm; it's a helpless feeling. I believe the team will truly support Alex as well as any other in the nation that I know of can. I will be wishing your family the best.
ReplyDeleteI got shivers reading this... cancer's going DOWN!
ReplyDeleteYou are one tough cookie!! Cancer, lookout. Sara and Alex are going to kick your a**
ReplyDeleteYou're soooooo right. Therefore: "Go to hell, cancer!!!! And just in case, you happen to be German: Fahr zum Teufel, Krebs! Hau ab!" -> taken the anger international!
ReplyDeleteAlways thinking of Alex...what a moving post. I know the anger and the gratefulness you're holding. Cancer is to be defeated this time. xx
ReplyDeleteSpeak it, Sister! Our girl had 8 doses of cranial radiation, and the whole process was so hard. During all of this, I keep thinking of Ulysses Grant's quote "The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving on." Hang in there - prayers for you and your family.
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