Hendersonhome Chronicles

Ian’s asleep on the couch right now, and I wish that I could join him.  I’m exhausted after this day.  It’s been the culmination of months of waiting, hoping, praying and, unfortunately, worrying.

For anyone who isn’t reading our Caring Bridge site (see link above), today was the first MRI we had since we got the diagnosis.  After all 30 days of the radiation treatment, hundreds of thousands of prayers, tears and flint-faced resolutions, we got to see where we stand.  Everyone I know, myself included, has been praying that when we see the MRI, there would be no tumor.  It seems like a logical thing to want…right?  No tumor means that the problem has been solved, and we can get on with our life, albeit a little more appreciative.

During the MRI process, Deb and I prayed.  A few times, I looked over my shoulder at the monitor that showed the current reading.  Most of the time, I couldn’t see much (I was not allowed to wear my glasses in the chamber); one time, my heart sank when I could see the top-down view of my son’s head, and a bright spot was visible right where I thought the tumor was supposed to be.  

Afterwards, we passed the time playing Yahtzee in the waiting room (BTW, don’t play Yahtzee with that kid; dice love him.)  We tried to finish the game in the examination room, but were interrupted byhis doctor.  After a little bit of small talk about my MP3 player/voice recorder, he settled down to show us the results.  I’m afraid that if Deb and I had been holding hands for any longer than we did, there would have been broken fingers on both sides.

Two-thirds reduction; the tumor is still there, but it’s only one-third as big as it was at the end of May.

The tumor is still there.

That sentence resounded in my head like the echo of a gun shot.

A gun shot that sounded like…PIIIIIINNNNGGGGG…

The good doctor had tried to prepare us for this result.  A month ago, he told us that he expected to see something today, and he was correct.  All of the fasting and prayers that people have been doing…this was our shot.  After this, there isn’t any other treatment that he recommends.

But, Ian’s doctor explained that this is a good result.  It’s his experience that when tumors disappear quickly, they regrow very quickly (with a vengence, if you will).  He further explained that he was very happy with the outcome.  He also told us about another little boy in his care who also has DIPG, and has lived five years with a tumor in his brain stem, with no effects.  (pong, pong and pong)

So, my will was not done.  I was wishing, hoping and praying that the MRI would be clear.  It’s a good thing my will was not done.  And we’re back to enjoying each day with our son, thanking God for every one as they happen.  That’s not a bad place to be.