Six month update

Dog days of Summer and a kinder, gentler Darth Vader appears.

Exactly six months ago Jack had his first chemotherapy for his Ewing’s. How time can pass simultaneously excruciatingly slowly and blurredly quickly, I’ll never know. But I swear it definitely gives you wrinkles and grey hair. Last post I promised a reprieve from bi-weekly posts of door art at Children’s and, hopefully, otherwise mundane updates of uneventful stays at the hospital. Jack has delivered on the uneventful front.

There hasn’t even been door art to report. Five treatments have come and gone and no Yoda. No Sonic Hedgehog. No Tree-Rex. Nada. Does Children’s Medical Center think adolescent, young adult patients are above comic inspiration? 😬 If for nothing else, the window paintings help to distinguish between stays that are otherwise repetitive and boring and uncomfortable. The plain, unadorned door perfectly captures the Jack’s treatment schedule. Boring. Tedious. No drama. All structure, no decoration. Checkups, treatment, check up, treatment, repeat. All of that is good—he’s headed to the finish line. But a little Yoda wisdom would be nice.

TODAY, there was Darth Vader (or Heart Vader in pediatric parlance) and a sign that an update was due.

As I write, Jack is inpatient for his 6th (of 11) rounds of chemo post surgery. Five days of no fun, lying in the bed and feeling crummy time. Chipping away at the remaining treatments. He’s coming off a pretty great week in Wyoming with us and a gang of pals, but I don’t think this is the ideal catch up on your sleep location. Someone celebrated a birthday last week 😬 and enjoyed some golf, some lake time (no swimming), some fishing, and, yes, some steak, in a much cooler climate.

His fabulous team of nurses sang “Happy Birthday” to him as his birthday fell on a check-up Monday. Next week we head to Houston for post-surgery check-ups and hopeful clearance for more activity according to his energy level. He’s back to playing golf—even the too hot June temperatures in Dallas didn’t keep him inside. His Vitamin D must be sky high.

Two weeks ago he had his last cycle of that icky, yucky, powerful doxorubicin—yes, the gold standard in front line treatment of sarcomas and pediatric cancers. Adios “red devil.” Its cardio-toxicity (short and longterm) is the main concern, so it’s administered with a heart protector to lessen those possible side effects. Setting up the soapbox for a later presentation, but the preview is—Only 4% of the National Cancer Institute budget funds research into pediatric cancer. That’s $189 million. Can’t we fund better pediatric cancer drug research for more effective, less harmful drugs, for the cancer population who has the most life to live? The Rose Family isn’t taking that cause on today. While we are incredibly grateful there’s a chemo cocktail proven to fight this cancer, we are also really happy he is done with that drug.

Thankfully, thankfully, there is nothing else to report. We’re planning to spend as much time in Wyoming as we can. I likely won’t update again until he’s really in the homestretch. Or if Yoda returns. 😉