Update #12 – End of Treatment!

So brave! Doing his blood draw by himself

So fun!

Flying brothers!

Picnic in the mountains

2nd to last round of inpatient chemo!

So happy at the park

Gondola ride in Aspen

Cousins trip to Aspen

Just waking up…

Nurse JB during inpatient chemo

So, the light at the end of the tunnel, the one that didn’t even seem to exist last October, is finally here. We made it.  Mac did it.  Today, July 15th, marks his last day of chemotherapy.  After 40+ weeks of weekly chemo, we are almost done. It is so difficult to accurately reduce to writing what this experience has been like or what it feels like to finally be reaching this milestone in Mac’s life.  It is easy to say we are thrilled that chemo is over and feel so very fortunate that his response to treatment has been good,  that we are forever grateful that Mac handled the last 10 months so well,  but there seems like there should be a bigger, more grandiose, more important word to encapsulate all that this amazing child has endured and what the last day of treatment truly signifies… but I am not sure that word or those words exist.

I think over the last 10 months, I have said “one day at a time” at least a hundred times. Literally.  And probably more.  I’ve said it to myself when I wake up at 2:00 a.m. feeling overwhelmed by cancer,  I’ve whispered it into Mac’s ear as he falls asleep in my arms after vomiting repeatedly from chemo, I’ve explained exactly what the phrase means to JB as he’s heard it in passing on several occasions and inquired, and I’ve said it to many, many friends, co-workers, neighbors, nurses and doctors as it has become my colloquial answer to the “how are you?” question when I haven’t had the energy to say more.  And now, one day at a time, we have finally made it here…

We will head to the hospital first thing in the morning.  Assuming Mac’s counts are high enough, he will then be admitted for his last round of in-patient chemo.  As usual, he is hooked up to an IV (pre-hydration, then chemo, then post-hydration) for about 24 hours. Entertaining an active and social 22 month old isn’t always easy when he is tethered to a pole but he seems to understand his limitations and often times just hangs out in his hospital room snuggling and laying low.  Although we are in the early stages of planning a big end of treatment celebration/birthday party for Mac in September, we couldn’t let his last round of chemo go uncelebrated.  We have planned some great surprises that will hopefully make this trip to the hospital and his last round of chemo a memorable one.  Like always, Mac will have his team of supporters rolling in to see him and inevitably he will greet them with a huge smile, even if he isn’t feeling well.  And again, as usual, during this monumental last round of chemo, Mac will exemplify poise and strength and we will all try to somehow hold back our tears…guessing we won’t be all that successful…and that’s okay too!

It is a big day so I am going to cut this post short and will post a proper update once we have chemotherapy completed.

Ultimately, as end of treatment approaches, we are reminded of how long and tough this road has been.  We are also reminded of how lucky we are to have such incredible love and support from our family, friends and community.  Mac has been a rockstar through an unbelievably difficult journey.  I think his success, strength, and happiness through it all is remarkable and largely attributable to the positive thoughts, prayers and healing energy so many have sent our way.  Thank you all. We did it. And congratulations Mac – YOU DID IT!!!