Fucking Cancer

My nine month old son has cancer.


My nine month old son has cancer.

My nine month old son has fucking cancer.

My nine month old son has a very rare and aggressive form of pediatric cancer--a Rhabdoid tumor of the liver.

Our Little Buddha, our happy, sweet little boy, might not ever grow up.

He was diagnosed two and a half months ago and the fog is just starting to clear. I still cry a lot, triggered by random commercials, his smile, happy, healthy families that pass us on the sidewalk... almost anything really; I never know what will start it. I am also surprised by what doesn't launch me into tears, but instead a cold numbness. American Cancer Society commercials just shut me down, but pampers has me bawling.

Our Little Buddha has been through so much in past few months, and handled it with more grace than his parents. He had a tumor resection (incomplete), PICC line placed, three transfusions, PICC line removed, Hickman line inserted, is headed into chemo round four, and gets neupogen shots post treatment for up to 10 days. All of this while going through normal babyhood. He cut six teeth during his last chemo treatment.

He still smiles everyday. He plays. He babbles. He climbs. He keeps us going. Sometimes you even forget he is sick, and to be honest I don't know if that is a blessing or curse.

I decided to keep this blog because the only insight I have found about life with a sick child have come from personal blogs. The doctors try, but, frankly, the marathon metaphor is not really cutting it. I see fractions of our live in the blogs I have read, but chunks are missing. It isn't that we are special, I think I am just angry and hurt enough to put the raw stuff to paper. Maybe another parent will see this and feel less alone.

So, I am sorry if some entries are angry, or whiny--but I feel angry and whiny sometimes. I am trying to not to edit too much, so don't expect the world's best quality writing either, just my experience.

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