Allow me to rewind so that I can frame this waking nightmare with a bit of context.
For several months, our infant son, E, had problems swallowing. Puréed foods were okay, but anything with a bit of texture, or lumps caused him to gag and sometimes vomit. Our family doctor referred us to a pediatrician. We visited the pediatrician at the end of June, and she referred us to another specialist who ran a pediatric chewing and swallowing clinic at a nearby hospital. On July 21st, we visited the pediatric specialist who thought E looked a little pale and suspected that he might be anemic, so he ordered some blood work. We also mentioned E's colouring. For a little while, we had noticed that E was starting to have a slight yellow tinge to his skin, but we attributed the colour to the sweet potato, squash, and carrots that he usually had mixed in with his lunches and dinners, so we didn't think too much of it. Before we left the clinic, we stopped at the lab with a requisition and got some blood work done.
The next morning, July 22nd, a Saturday, our pediatrician and the pediatric specialist both called our house before 9:00 AM, telling us that there had been some anomalies found in E's blood work, and that we should get to SickKids right away for further testing. Our pediatrician was the first to call, and I remember her talking about blasts in the blood, but when pressed, she would not outright say what she thought it might be. Knowing that blasts usually means cancer, I started to experience the dizziness, and muffled hearing that comes on when I'm having a panic attack, so I finished the conversation sitting on the floor.
At that point in time, my wife and I were both anxiety ridden messes, so I called my parents who live about an hour's drive away to ask if they could come out so my mom could watch our older son J, and so my dad could drive us to SickKids. Waiting for my parents was agony, and in the meantime, we received a second phone call, this one from the pediatric specialist. My wife took that call, and he was a little more open with us than the pediatrician was. He did not tell us what it was with absolute certainty, but he said in cases like this, it could be cancer, and that we needed to get to SickKids right away for further testing. I started crying, and my wife suggested that I leave the room so as to not upset our older son, J. While composing myself in our room, I overheard J asking my wife "what's wrong with daddy?", to which she replied "oh, it's okay, he's just not feeling well".
My parents arrived, and my mom stayed with J My father, my wife, E, and I set out for SickKids. We turned onto Elm St. to get to the parking garage, and I recall thinking to myself that this was a real life nightmare on Elm St. In the ER, we were fast tracked, but first went to a room so a nurse could weigh E, and get some other vitals. We then proceeded to registration, and were then led down a hallway to an observation room where we would wait to see the doctor. We were put into room 15, and I remember thinking it was good luck because E was exactly 15 months old that very day. Surely being exactly 15 months old and being put in room 15 was a sign that there had been something wrong with the initial test, and that everything was going to work out fine, right? We had a revolving door of doctors and nurses come into the room. They were asking us a number of questions such as "is there a family history of cancer?", and "has he had a persistent fever that would not go away?". More blood work was done, and we sat there waiting.
A few hours later, a doctor, with 3 or 4 of his colleagues, entered our room to break the news to us that our little man had cancer. I remember getting a quick hug from my dad, then hugging my wife. The both of us held each other and cried. I recall sobbing "What the fuck? What the fuck?" over and over.
Shock. Horror. Numb. Broken. Devastated. This came out of nowhere. He seemed to be a normal, happy kid. Sure, his skin was a little bit yellow as of late, but that must have been due the carotenoids from all the squash, sweet potatoes, and carrots he loves to eat. Sure, he had been a little bit more fussy in the past 3 weeks, but must have been due to the fact he was cutting all four of his incisor teeth at the same time. Who wouldn't be a bit extra grumpy? He had boundless energy, was always on the go, we hadn't seen a persistent fever, and no one in either of our families had leukemia or any other blood disorders.
A wonderful social worker came in to speak to us, and he brought a few toys for E. He assured us that childhood leukemia is not our fault. It wasn't something that we did, or something that we didn't do. They're not sure how, or even why it happens in some individuals, but it seem to just be random and a case of shit luck. An oncologist stopped by to examine E, and speak to us. I believe E's prognosis and course of treatment was discussed, but due to the shock of the diagnosis, I only recall bits and flashes of what transpired.
Not long after speaking with the oncologist, a different oncologist arrived with transport, and took us up to the 8th floor where we would be spending the next number of days.
For several months, our infant son, E, had problems swallowing. Puréed foods were okay, but anything with a bit of texture, or lumps caused him to gag and sometimes vomit. Our family doctor referred us to a pediatrician. We visited the pediatrician at the end of June, and she referred us to another specialist who ran a pediatric chewing and swallowing clinic at a nearby hospital. On July 21st, we visited the pediatric specialist who thought E looked a little pale and suspected that he might be anemic, so he ordered some blood work. We also mentioned E's colouring. For a little while, we had noticed that E was starting to have a slight yellow tinge to his skin, but we attributed the colour to the sweet potato, squash, and carrots that he usually had mixed in with his lunches and dinners, so we didn't think too much of it. Before we left the clinic, we stopped at the lab with a requisition and got some blood work done.
The next morning, July 22nd, a Saturday, our pediatrician and the pediatric specialist both called our house before 9:00 AM, telling us that there had been some anomalies found in E's blood work, and that we should get to SickKids right away for further testing. Our pediatrician was the first to call, and I remember her talking about blasts in the blood, but when pressed, she would not outright say what she thought it might be. Knowing that blasts usually means cancer, I started to experience the dizziness, and muffled hearing that comes on when I'm having a panic attack, so I finished the conversation sitting on the floor.
At that point in time, my wife and I were both anxiety ridden messes, so I called my parents who live about an hour's drive away to ask if they could come out so my mom could watch our older son J, and so my dad could drive us to SickKids. Waiting for my parents was agony, and in the meantime, we received a second phone call, this one from the pediatric specialist. My wife took that call, and he was a little more open with us than the pediatrician was. He did not tell us what it was with absolute certainty, but he said in cases like this, it could be cancer, and that we needed to get to SickKids right away for further testing. I started crying, and my wife suggested that I leave the room so as to not upset our older son, J. While composing myself in our room, I overheard J asking my wife "what's wrong with daddy?", to which she replied "oh, it's okay, he's just not feeling well".
My parents arrived, and my mom stayed with J My father, my wife, E, and I set out for SickKids. We turned onto Elm St. to get to the parking garage, and I recall thinking to myself that this was a real life nightmare on Elm St. In the ER, we were fast tracked, but first went to a room so a nurse could weigh E, and get some other vitals. We then proceeded to registration, and were then led down a hallway to an observation room where we would wait to see the doctor. We were put into room 15, and I remember thinking it was good luck because E was exactly 15 months old that very day. Surely being exactly 15 months old and being put in room 15 was a sign that there had been something wrong with the initial test, and that everything was going to work out fine, right? We had a revolving door of doctors and nurses come into the room. They were asking us a number of questions such as "is there a family history of cancer?", and "has he had a persistent fever that would not go away?". More blood work was done, and we sat there waiting.
A few hours later, a doctor, with 3 or 4 of his colleagues, entered our room to break the news to us that our little man had cancer. I remember getting a quick hug from my dad, then hugging my wife. The both of us held each other and cried. I recall sobbing "What the fuck? What the fuck?" over and over.
Shock. Horror. Numb. Broken. Devastated. This came out of nowhere. He seemed to be a normal, happy kid. Sure, his skin was a little bit yellow as of late, but that must have been due the carotenoids from all the squash, sweet potatoes, and carrots he loves to eat. Sure, he had been a little bit more fussy in the past 3 weeks, but must have been due to the fact he was cutting all four of his incisor teeth at the same time. Who wouldn't be a bit extra grumpy? He had boundless energy, was always on the go, we hadn't seen a persistent fever, and no one in either of our families had leukemia or any other blood disorders.
A wonderful social worker came in to speak to us, and he brought a few toys for E. He assured us that childhood leukemia is not our fault. It wasn't something that we did, or something that we didn't do. They're not sure how, or even why it happens in some individuals, but it seem to just be random and a case of shit luck. An oncologist stopped by to examine E, and speak to us. I believe E's prognosis and course of treatment was discussed, but due to the shock of the diagnosis, I only recall bits and flashes of what transpired.
Not long after speaking with the oncologist, a different oncologist arrived with transport, and took us up to the 8th floor where we would be spending the next number of days.
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