Our christmas star.

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Wow! What a big post I have ahead of me. Bear with us – the news is worth it!

We’ve been in such a difficult place over the last few months it’s been impossible to write but we are glad to be moving forward and happy to be updating you.

It’s also been a massive few months!
If you recall first we were told his tumour was growing and we braced to lose Bede.
Then we went to Sydney.
Then we came back and hoped for whatever was best for Bede. Well what a beautiful wish that was. I am so happy and privileged to say the tumour had not grown! The previous scan results were incorrect. The cancer was not winning.

The real magic, the delicious stuff, the hope inspiring soul shaking, world altering stuff happened in between those two scans in Sydney. It’s a long story but one we need to tell you and I can’t find a way to condense it.

In September we made our way to Sydney to see some doctors at that stage with the news Bede’s tumour had grown.

waiting to see the doctors

patiently waiting to see the doctors.

 

In between appointments we drove down to Melbourne to see my beautiful extended family and introduce them to Bede for the first and possibly last time.

 

NSW drive

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Bede wasn’t himself but was wrapped up in the kind of love, generosity, easy familiarity, friendship and self deprecating humour my family does so well. I have barely had a chance to breathe since being back let alone express my deep gratitude to my whole extended family for such a warm welcome.

 

uncle vin

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Bec I can promise you Bede only eats the people he loves the most!

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jess, kate and bede

ackland street

Gus loved Acland street even more than I did as a little girl!

 

In fact we almost skipped seeing the professor in Sydney that PMH had referred us to as we were having too much soul nourishing fun with the gang. To be honest we were convinced that being PMH’s guy that he would blindly back them up and say all the same things. We went anyway.

He defintitely did not say all the same things!

HOLD ONTO YOUR HATS PEOPLE!!!!!

hold onto your hats people....
He said he does not believe Bede’s tumour is terminal.

I’ll let that hope filled glorious sentence sink in for a moment.

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He is arguably the best peadiatric neuro oncologist in Australia and he said he does not believe Bede’s tumour is terminal. He said he has seen this before and the patients did not die.

My gosh we have never been so blown away. We sat there in that office like stunned mullets.

When the professor said I do not believe this tumour is terminal I asked him to repeat the sentence as though he was speaking another language. This has never even been a possibility for Bede and then all of a sudden it is. It was a mammoth moment.

We always knew the type of tumour Bede has can, hypothetically, reach burn out. Our doctors in Perth had always made very clear that the way Bede’s tumour behaved he would die before he reached an age when that could happen.

Well not according to the professor – he says we’re already there. That the tumour has ‘run out of petrol’. That’s why the tumour kept shrinking 6 months after chemo. That’s why it’s still stable. That’s why while the PMH doctors predicted we’d only ever achieve 20% shrinkage we have now achieved 80%!

He said he didn’t believe the last scan really did indicate growth (turns out he was right!) and that the tumour is no longer behaving aggressively. He said if this was his patient he would start focusing on nutrition, hormones, OT etc and leaving Bede as minimally disabled as possible. He said he would not let them send us home to die again.

There has been a lot to come to terms with including the worst case possibility that Bede lives but is severely disabled and what that means for all of us. There has been a lot to process. That processing has been grounded in faith, love and sharing the news with just a few of our closest friends.

The best case scenario is glorious. Bede will continue to develop and although delayed by all of this he will in his own time reach all his milestones and grow to have a fulfilling life.

As his parent’s and his advocates we have to hold this opinion along side the second opinions we have received from the UK and the US both of which say Bede’s cancer is still terminal and that that won’t change.  From the beginning we have said if you gave Bede 1% he would be the kid that made it. I think he definitely has that 1% now and we move forward with reckless hopeful abandon.

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I can’t really explain it though. There is fear. Fear we will lose Bede, our shining light. Fear that an unfillable hole will be left in our hearts and family and lives. But Bede teaches and exemplifies bravery for us all. It was sometime ago that I secretly stopped believing this cancer would take him. Fear of sounding like a mother in denial stopped me from articulating it but the belief Bede was hanging around at least a little longer than expected planted like a seed in my heart and mind last November and that seed has just continued to grow.

In the last 24 hours 3 people have cried tears of joy upon seeing Bede. It’s a brash statement but I really believe he is, day by day, becoming the good news story I always believed he could.

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All this news made heading into ICU and potentially losing him to pneumonia that targets low immune systems all the more difficult. So thank you for your love, your prayers and your hope.

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I want to once again thank you all. Each of you are amazing. You have not given into apathy. You have not become desensitized to the ups and downs of this journey. You have not turned your backs. You have given our son a platform to shine. To be known to the world. To have his life seen and noted. You have fortified us with your prayers and positivity and hope. I once again write this with tears of gratitude and a renewed belief that miracles happen. This year Bede is our Christmas miracle. Thank you for sharing in the joy of him.

Ill say it 100 times the miracle bede has had and continues to need is all of you. Please keep helping us deliver this miracle.

I sincerely hope going forward this blog documents Bede’s triumph, his rich light filled defiance and his beautifully lived life rather than his death. Either way I now have so much comfort that whatever lies ahead Bede will do it his way and that’s just perfect, a miracle in itself.

For now Bede giggles. He is happy and he is whole.
His light bubbles up from deep with in him as he gasps for air between belly laughs losing himself in his joy.

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His trademark light is undimmable, he is radiant, all out dazzling. Our Christmas star.

He stretches, he climbs, he explores and you can see him grow.

He is cheeky and his sense of humour is bold.

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There is still that foundation of peace, a deep peaceful contentedness that sees him through difficult times but now his cheeky smile, his eagerness and his growth just take your breath away. Where before there was a calm stillness now there is energetic exploration.

Our little boy is growing up. What a flipping delight that is!

He looks like a boy at the starting line. Ready to take on life and embrace every opportunity to live it. Roy and I are 100% committed to providing him with every love filled adventure he could hope for.

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Bede may be small but he and his joy are mighty. He’s not done yet.

 

 

 

Note: For now Bede’s still in hospital. We’ve managed to get on top of his lung issues and he is off oxygen. He is needing one of his drugs (a substance that occurs naturally in our bodies but due to the tumour not in Bede’s) every 6 hours via injection. Once we have this sorted out, a tall order, we will get to take Bede home. I’ve lost track of time. I think this admission has been nearly 2 months. SO far it is starting to give us answers though which is good. We are hoping to have Bede home and in good shape to enjoy christmas with his family.

Tada! Bede’s back.

I can’t really put into words my optimism right now.

tada.... i'm back!

tada…. i’m back!

Bede has been out of PICU for a little while but there was the strong chance he would have to go back especially as we were finding it difficult to maintain IV access. While that chance was there and still so strong we didn’t want to jinx it too much. Now that is looking less and less likely.

laughing after an ICU doctor said he probably wouldn’t make it

 

I have a lot of updating to do and I will. There is still so much big positive happy news to deliver! We need to fill you in after you all so happily ‘held this space‘ and to give you the results of our last MRI scan when we all wished for whatever was best for Bede.

For now Bede seems to have made such a strong comeback. With the incidental adjustment of some meds he is the most himself he has been in months. He laughs freely and happily and it’s glorious.

Our happy little bumble Bede

Our happy little bumble Bede

We know he’s not out of the woods yet, we know his recovery is slow almost too slow but his soul, his spirit, is strong.

We will CT his lungs on Monday and hope there is nothing unexpected or too bad there.

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Hope is tangible and although Bede is still on oxygen he is nearly crawling!

Slowly but surely we are making ground.

I feel positive, optimistic, uplifted and happy all his teams are communicating with each other and us.

 

Gus has made his high flow oxygen tubing his teething toy.

Bede has made his high flow oxygen tubing his teething toy.

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this is too much happy for 3am!

 

So the big update is being drafted as we speak…. Get excited Team Bede, get excited.

For now I just wanted to share these pictures and let you know that once again your love and prayers and positivity have helped carry him through a storm that some thought he could not weather. Our last post received hundreds of Facebook shares, thousands of visitors and views from dozens of countries. We are so deeply humbled and thankful that so many of you are getting behind Bede. We truly believe it is making a difference in his life.

 

 

This Kid!

 


Bede is small but he is mighty.

Hold this space

We have so much to share with you all. As soon as we have had enough time to sit with all the different pieces news and process them ourselves, as a family, I promise you we will.
As soon as I feel like I can adequately convey the light and shade of it all I will.

In the meantime I wouldn’t get too invested in any of the third hand whisperings that are doing the rounds and I can’t  let them rush us.

We have some more big positive posts coming up and we can’t wait to share them with you.

For now here is Bede.

imageHis agitation has passed. He can’t tolerate any feed at the moment and has been losing weight. He ended up needing a general anaesthetic just to get a drip in so we could hydrate him and yet he does not falter.

Bede is irrepressible, unstoppable.
He is nearly crawling and always laughing.

He is growing and developing.

He is hope.
He is light.
He is shining.
Busy embracing life and rolling around after his brother or the dog. He is enjoying himself.
I can’t help but smile as I type this just thinking of him at the moment is such a delight. He is so happy and cheeky and fun.

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Thank you for your patience, for standing with us. Thank you for your love.

We are both so grateful

I promise the updates will come soon.

 

Issy and Roy

Bede’s tumour is growing.

As I write this it’s late. Roy’s been doing the heavy lifting with nights lately but tonight I am alone. Waiting to give the midnight meds and hoping he drifts off soon.
We have been buying time. Buying time to process our reality, buying time to let Gus sort out everything he has going on at school, buying time while we figure out what we want to do.

But there is no time to be bought and I am sick and tired of half sentences, half answers. Not lying but not disclosing. Holding our secret close when we all know a problem shared is a problem lightened.

Three weeks ago we posted about Bede’s MRI and received the results pretty quickly. Since then we have wrapped ourselves up in the love and comfort of our closest friends and family.
We have had twice weekly meetings with Bede’s primary doctor.

We have tried to keep on swimming while the difficult wave filled nights have threatened to drown us in exhaustion and in our own thoughts.

Bede’s tumour is growing.
The cancer is overcoming the chemotherapy and the tumour is breathing new life, focused on robbing Bede of his. For now, both astoundingly and predictably, it fails.

Bede is here living and laughing, lighting and loving and it looks a little something like this…

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He lights the way and I am so happy to just bathe in that shine and follow his lead. His inner joy, his uncompromising happiness and resilient love glisten through the troubles like jewels.

 

We also have two trips to Sydney coming up to see different doctors. We have people in the US and the UK looking at Bede’s scans. Surgeons, oncologists, radiation oncologists. We are having renewed discussions with our team of doctors in Perth.

We hope to go forward with balanced judgment with an aim to prolong sweet life for Bede but never at his own expense. As our little miracle man keeps on keeping on.

Your prayers, your hope, your love are always humbly received.
I know I have said it before but the miracle Bede has had and continues to need is all of you. We hope you will continue to buoy him with your good will.
If love, hope, prayers, faith, positivity and joy don’t shrink this tumour it won’t be for lack of trying. Please continue to get behind Bede.

The tumour is growing.
Bede is small, Bede is mighty and we are so very thankful.

Dear Gus, thank you for your nurturing cooling shade.

For some reason whenever I see this photo I imagine the two of you at a festival in 18 years time.

For some reason whenever I see this photo I imagine the two of you at a festival in 18 years time.

Dear Gus,

I am writing this now because I imagine one day you will go looking for this blog and you will survey a small but defining part of your family’s history through it’s words.

The fabric of our family is woven with love and friendship. In so many ways we all chose each other and what we would become to one another.

When you look back at this time I hope you remember it with the fierce love that has come to define it but I know you may not. I know that teenagers can have angst. I know that hindsight can create imagined regret, manufactured guilt and should that happen for you I don’t want my words to seem retrospectively comforting for the sake of comfort.

I am writing this to you today so you can undoubtedly know the truth. The truth of this moment as it was lived; repeatedly.

You have been the best brother we could have ever imagined for our Bede and when we tell you that you always remind us that he is the best brother you could have ever asked for. You tell him how awesome he is everyday.

You wrap him in love and hope and pure unmitigated acceptance. You fill his days with laughter, sincere chats, playfulness and you educate us all on how to settle him. You tell me about how your hearts talk to each other.

When Bede is crying in the mornings I put him into your bed and even if you are cranky at being woken up for school you never show it. You snuggle into him. He snuggles in to you and he smiles. You bounce him in the crook of your arm.
You are Bede’s safe place. You are his happy place. He has a gentle ease with you. You couldn’t possibly be more than you are to him because to him you are everything.

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I want you to know at 7 years old you were scared to tell me you were hoping Bede would die. You couldn’t bare to see him suffer, you weren’t sure how much longer we could go on. It was a particularly difficult time in Bede’s treatment and you were not alone in those thoughts.

In that moment my heart broke that my beautiful Gussy that I had held so tenderly for so many years had to grapple with compassionately hoping his brother would die, a concept far to adult for my little boy. But as my heart broke my pride for you put all the pieces back together. I was in awe of your love, your empathy, your depth of reflection. Never feel guilt for this you have loved him purely and unselfishly.

I am not sure if you have ever felt a moment’s resentment for your brother. If you have you haven’t shown it and he has certainly never known it. You make allowances and cancel plans with a happy and understanding coolness.

There has never been a moment you haven’t hoped for what was best for your brother.

I remember you telling me that you didn’t see a down side to Bede not getting better and I said “well darling I explained to you the down side is that Bede will die”. Your reply has become one of our classic family tales. You said

“well that is all about us mum and this is actually about Bede. If he dies he will go to heaven and be with Molly Gran and Poppa and if he lives he gets to stay here and know our love”

You have given your brother the greatest gift in the world. You have made cancer irrelevant. When he is with you you are his big brother, he is your baby bro and he gets to be all he was meant to be and all that he is. He gets to play.

The medical team aren’t sure how good Bede’s eye sight is right now but when you walk into a room he seeks you out. He is drawn to you. He loves you happily, tenderly, with the awe of a little brother and soaks up whatever you are happy to teach him.

He uses his little arms to pull your face into his own and hug and kiss you. He gets to be a playful little boy with you and as I type this you are both lying on the living room floor laughing.

Your light fills every crevice. Bede’s light is no accident it is clearly a familial trait amongst brothers. You have led by example.

Your matter of factness, your groundedness and your ability to simultaneously hold defiant faith fuelled hope and the grim reality at the same time is truly humbling. Most adults I have encountered cannot do that.

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People have told me and one day they may tell you that this has been the making of you. Do not listen to them son. How wrong they are.
You were born the most compassionate, loving, tender, affectionate, empathetic, clever, dry, funny, joyful, thoughtful little boy. This has not made you, or defined you. You have always been your own incredible person.

It can only be an act by the grace of God that Bede got to have you, he got to grow with you in your nurturing, cooling shade.

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How much love can a bear bare.

I have grown up with you. Being your mother grew me. I so often wish I could spare you from the pain ahead, from the sorrow. I wish I could protect you but in some round about way I hope our positivity, our love and the happiness we find in one another will help us all.

If I could offer future you any comfort it would be that you make him happiest. He is at home with you. He has truly lived because he got to have you.
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This post is to future you but if I had to think about present you I’d say:

I know that sometimes I am hard on you but I want you to continue to grow into the remarkable young man you are set to become and part of that is respect and discipline.

I know that sometimes I am soft on you and I spoil you but I want you to continue to grow into the remarkable young man you are set to become and part of that is embracing you gently with tender easiness and protecting from the bruises.

If I had to make present you a promise I’d say:
I will continue to try to live up to the gift of being your mother (and I promise to beat you in every water fight this summer).

You were my first love. You are my whole world. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Your wit, intelligence, faith, affection and hope sustain our family. You are our anchor. Your Daddy and I love you so very much Gussy. You are doing brilliantly.

Thank you darling.

He’s done it!

We’ve done it! He’s done it!

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We got the formal results of the MRI and the tumour has shrunk a total of 50% over the course of treatment.

 Let me make that gloriously clear… The tumour has not regrown. 

This post has been a little delayed.  Thank you for your patience and unwavering support.

I would have loved to shout the news from the mountain tops the day we found out but instead we sat in our doctor’s office, in shock, sedating Bede, holding him while he screamed, perplexed and trying to figure out what was happening. Over the last 2 weeks we have been averaging about an hours broken sleep a night. Attempting to keep Bede comfortable has been an all consuming challenge and no one could get to the bottom of what was wrong.

We  finally found a nasty urine infection, a bacterial gut infection and gastro. … the perils of having a suppressed immune system.
Now he is improving. He is smiling more freely and laughing again. His chuckle fills the room.

I am now able to take a moment and bathe in his beautiful light, wrap myself in his warmth and rejoice in his triumph. The news, finally, gently settles and I delight. It hasn’t grown!

With love, positivity, hope, prayers, blind faith and determination… It hasn’t grown! He’s done it again. Multiple doctors looked at that CT. Neurologists, neuro surgeon, radiologists and oncologists. It looked bigger to everyone but it’s not. Bede has done it again.

I do not feel relief. I feel pride. A deep, soul nourishing pride. A pride that is only paralleled by my gratitude to each of you. I am sure I have said it before and it remains true-  the miracle Bede has needed and continues to need is each of you.

Make no mistake, your love, hope, positivity, prayers, vibes, thoughts have carried him through as though on the wings of angels.
I am humbled. I am humbled that you have not only taken a moment out of your day to send Bede some love but that you have held him in your thoughts and minds and collective consciousness. That you have wrapped him up in kindness and hope and protective love.

Make no mistake, the love you send Bede helps him in a very real and tangible way.

Our family has big decisions ahead of us. Ones that involve life and death, pain and joy, hurt and time. There is a balancing act ahead. I have faith that whatever is meant for Bede, he will continue to lead us and light the way.

Tonight Gus says that if everyone is confident in Bede, we might just get through. I told him the tumour has not grown and he said “well that’s a delight to hear.”  Yes beautiful boy it is!

Bede’s light is soothing. His essence is transitional and strong and gentle.
He is bruised but he is recovering. He is determined and he is joy.
He snuggles.
He will laugh as long as you are happy to laugh along side him and is finding humour and happiness in the most peculiar things.

Roy and I are feeling so blessed to have our family together under one roof again tonight.

He’s flipping done it!

I can’t think of a better note to leave you on than this video we took earlier today. This video lets bede speak for himself. Bede has decided that going to sleep is hysterically funny. He is such a happy boy.

Thank you.

Growing.

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I am not sure what to say or do or how to act. I am sitting here, as what must surely be one of the most blessed and privileged women in the world because I get Bede. I come with humility and humbleness and hope that you will as you have so many times before, get behind Bede.

Bede’s birthday was not our best.  If it were any other day we would have taken him into the hospital.

We kept him home not for the photos or the party but just to spare him being needled and examined and scanned on his birthday.
We have been averaging a couple of hours sleep a night for the last 5 nights or so because Bede is irritated. He has been crying a bit, vomiting a lot and grizzling all the time. It was difficult to get food or fluids down his tube without making him distressed.
We were monitoring him at home but knowing within our selves that the tumour was growing.

We took him into the hospital and I knew.
We waited for the scan and it felt like that instinctive feeling you get when danger is coming and I knew.
We got called into the doctors office and now they knew.
Now it was real.
We told Gus and all he had to say was “Come on!”

The scan was just a CT scan which is not overly accurate to compare to the more detailed MRI but it looks like it is growing, it looks like we have regained the 20% we lost. Combined with Bede’s symptoms that is really not great.
The doctors resumed the drug that makes Bede’s face swell up and upped a lot of his other doses to try and make him more comfortable.

Bede is still regularly laughing at us, smiling with us, loving kisses, enjoying playing his piano and is his usual tender self. But there is also distress where before there was none.

His skin is silk, I never want to forget that feeling.
When he sleeps or when he is unsettled his fingers tip toe across the bed looking for me, he grasps me for a moment and then lets go. Happy to have his space but reassured that I am close.
His laugh remains rambunctious and resilient. His magic is soft and gentle and hopeful. His light uncompromising, continuing to lead the way.
He is weakened but he is not diminished.
He is whole.

Everything I wrote in the blog on new years day remains true. He is still evolving and developing and growing.

Every time I look for heart ache there is none. My beautiful, soulful, loving boy is here and I am thankful.

On the 8th of January we have his MRI. That will tell us definitively just how bad a position we are in.

My words can not do justice to Bede in this moment and any words I do have feel like they are all about me and how much I love him and this is about Bede.
Bede is strength and beauty and substance and light and leadership and hope. He is gentle, tender, unrelenting strength and love. He is goodness.

My words fail me, but my deep love for him implores me to write today. To ask you, the people with all the hope and love and prayers and positivity that have bestowed Bede with so many miracles, to please get behind him. Focus your happiness, hope, positivity, prayers, love, whatever you’ve got on Bede. We want as much happy time as we can get to afford him a life filled with as much, wonder, marvel, joy, relaxation, love and exploration as we can. We are not greedy, we know this wonderful life will come to an end, but for now we want more. More for us and Gus but even more importantly more for him.  I truly believe your loving and hopeful support has achieved that for him before.

I have said it before and I will say it as many times as I need to…. I promise you he is so very worth it.

As the tumour grows and effects his ability to have food or rest he manages to retain his peace.
As the chaos of cancer begins to grumble and swirl he is grounded and he smiles and laughs.
As the irritation flits in and out he loves tenderly.
We love him deeply, a love that is only paralleled by our pride.

This resilience, beauty, peace and happiness is his defining truth.
He is small but he is mighty. He is uncompromisingly Bede.

(follow up post here)

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The balance of power

I hoped but did not expect my open letter to reach Gervase Chaney’s desk. I certainly didn’t expect over 1000 Facebook shares in its first 36 hours. As the response grew bigger I was at the hospital with Bede and I started thinking about taking it down and I didn’t expect other parents to ask me not to. I certainly didn’t expect the influx of messages, emails, comments and approaches of so many other mothers thanking me for using my voice. I didn’t expect the regret from people who had been through this and had not used theirs. I didn’t expect the level of emotion behind those responses. I didn’t expect the advances of media. I certainly didn’t realize just how many of you have Bede’s back.

I think the hospital is empowered in a lot of ways and sometimes that is a negative, petty and bureaucratic power. I think Bede’s power is in the mass amounts of love he can generate and mobilise. I think that is a strong, refreshing and positive power that cannot be underestimated. I think that power is testament to his light.

In all the reactions I have had I had negative feedback from about 4 people.

I am all about honesty and accountability and context. My reactions in the letter did happen. I was desperate and I did raise my voice and I know some staff did not like that but there was context to them.  My letter provided that context.

The letter was aimed at a bureaucratic decision that removed reactions from their context. Towards the end of the meeting Dr Chaney told us he would aim to review the decision within 24 hours. Nothing was going to have changed in that time. We sensed he knew the decision was wrong but that he was standing by it anyway. Whether we were right in sensing that or not the decision was petty and bureaucratic and it was unforgiving punishment toward a family who have tolerated and forgiven so much. The letter was context. We are not threatening people.

Now let me give you the context in which some of these incidences have occurred. They occurred in a big picture.

One that also includes the nurse who I thank repeatedly every shift because I feel when she is on I am off duty and know Bede is in the best hands possible.
The nurse who must be the only other person in the world who can sense something is wrong with Bede before I can.
The nurse that sat with Bede after her shift had ended while we were in a meeting because it was an important day for our family.
The doctor who said we could call her anytime over the weekend while she was off duty because I was so scared without her advice I wouldn’t know what to do.
The same doctor who is so giving of her time and energies not just to Bede but also to our family.

The nurse who makes sure she talks to Bede while she is treating him.
The nurses that head into Bede’s room on their way to tea break to squeeze in a quick cuddle.
The nurse who bakes nearly every shift and then SHARES it.
The doctor who in the middle of a Bede emergency made sure I got a juice to help stop my shaking.
The specialist who drove from Fremantle to Subiaco at 7:30 at night because he wanted someone who knew Bede to review him.
The nurse who rubbed my back and encouraged me on when no one would listen.
The doctors who brought him back
The doctor that listens.
The coordinator that understands.
The nurse that empathises.

I think the word ‘mistake’ is too generous for the incidences I detail in my open letter and there are many more of them. There is also a lot of good staff.  I think I acknowledged that in the letter. A lot of those staff are also outraged when these things happen.  I certainly do not want to be the person that “paints them into a box” as one criticism said.
Our voice empowers our family but it is not a petty unfair empowerment. It is an honest, true and positive power.
The letter is true. It was never meant as a criticism of the nurses or individual doctors. It provided context for a petty bureaucratic system and a petty bureaucratic decision that robbed my boys of precious home time together.

Although I am sure Dr Chaney does not need nor desire a disenchanted mother coming to his defence he seems like a nice man. He is a doctor for sick children, a father. He allowed us to say our piece in the meeting even if we did feel as though it fell on deaf ears. I asked Dr Chaney if given the exceptional circumstances and lapses if he could say he would have acted any differently and he admitted that he could not. This is not about a witch hunt. My letter was addressed to him because he represented the system that day and although he seems to lead it he is only one part of it.

The treatment that we required HITH for has finished. We still seek some reassurance that that service will be available to Bede in the future and have none. Despite Dr Chaney assuring us in the meeting that he would attempt to have his grounds for refusing us this service in writing and provided to us within 24 hours and also that he would provide us with details regarding any documented incident within the last 6 weeks, the main period for which he was making his decision, none of this has happened. We have not heard from PMH in regards to this matter. Ultimately Bede is still not availed of HITH.

At the end of the letter I said that was a one off post, that Roy and I felt the need to speak out about Bede’s reality but I am posting this today because I do not want to be the person that uses their power in a negative way. That is not and has never been what Bede or our family are about.

He may be small, but he is mighty.

– Isabella and Roy

bede tree

This is who it is all about.                                                     Bede helped us decorate the tree last night.
A proper Bede update will follow later today or early tomorrow. He is doing well. He is shining, he is developing, he is irrepressible and our love and pride run deep.

An open letter to Gervase Chaney

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Bede’s like… “really?! you fools still carrying on like this?”

To Gervase Chaney (Chairman of the Paediatric Medicine Clinical Care Unit at Princess Margaret Hospital for Children),

It was very interesting meeting you in our impromptu meeting yesterday during which time you informed us that the hospital would not be offering the Hospital In The Home (HITH) service to our young and precious son Bede. A decision which for the moment, as we told you, has a great affect on my husbands employment, my older son’s general well being and Bede’s enjoyment of whatever life he has left. I know certainly it has a great affect on my own well being and enjoyment of my son’s life.

I think most interesting, given our family’s history within this hospital, not least of which was Bede wasting away on 8A, becoming increasingly emaciated and distressed while the scans we were transferred to PMH for were denied to us because “his brain is fine” despite our constant advocating to have his brain checked while ultimately his cancer was growing and spreading throughout his body, most interesting is that the first time we have met you is in denying services to Bede that greatly effect his quality of life because you don’t like the way we have handled ourselves. Let us let that sink in for a minute …. you don’t like the way we have handled ourselves.

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This is a photo of Bede the day our private hospital transferred us to PMH for a brain scan.

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This is Bede, still weeks away from your staff agreeing to scan. The photos that came weeks after this are too graphic to publish. 
In hindsight the only thing I didn’t do during this time as I repeatedly advocated for Bede was raise my voice.

In fact we both know the context here is extensive. Lets consider it.

In denying the HITH service to our son you said that staff are intimidated of me because in the past I have raised my voice while advocating for him. Not that I have ever threatened any one, not that any one would ever suggest that I have been physically aggressive, not that I’m a nasty person, not that I have personally attacked or pose any threat to your staff, not that your decision is based on any documented complaints or incidences just that I have raised my voice while advocating for him. In fact it is acknowledged that it is some kind of “perceived intimidation” rather than any actual intimidation having occurred.You told me that you would within 24 hours provide me with details of the staff’s recorded incidences for the time period on which you are making your decision. Considering you have not done so I assume as you suspected none exist and there are no solid grounds for you denying this service to Bede. Sorry, I should say no solid ground other than that before Bede’s diagnosis I was a law student and my father who I do not have a close relationship was once upon a time lawyer and as your staff have said we apparently work in a fictional lawfirm no doubt spending our time plotting against PMH. This contrivance is so far beyond me and even if I were still a student that is no reason to deny services to Bede.

I want to look at the context in the hope of achieving for you some balance.
Let me be clear and honest and accountable. I have indeed raised my voice. I have raised it and I have said “this is not acceptable for my son”. It is a decision our family has been forced to make too many times. As one or two parents among a ward full of staff who are supported on multiple levels but do not listen to the sometimes hours or days of quiet, polite, repeated requests I have raised my voice to be heard. Bede has no voice of his own and too often when I do not raise my voice my own is ignored.

The HITH service is now being withheld from Bede because in the past I have raised my voice and staff members find that intimidating.
Here’s the context :
These are the same staff members who ‘forgot’ to provide Bede with IV antibiotics when his brain shunt was infected despite repeated reminders from our family, despite them telling us they had been administered they simply forgot and then did not comply with hospital policy in regards to lodging an incident and said “oh well”.

Who despite me reminding them Bede needed his steroids, despite the staff reassuring us they had administered them and despite Bede being left screaming with high pitched irritation for hours the staff later remembered they actually hadn’t given Bede his medication. They then fudged the notes.

The staff who during a 48 hour period gave his four hourly morphine between anywhere from 1 to 7 hours apart because they were too busy to administer it on time, because we are not the only children in the hospital or left him vomiting and screaming in pain because they forgot his morphine all together and it was our fault for not ringing the nurse call bell more often.

The staff that left my severely immuno-suppressed, neutropenic son sitting in a dirty infectious room with a second hand oxygen mask and a container full of the last patient’s secretions while they went for their lunch break after hours of us quietly advocating for Bede to be moved to room that did not pose a risk to him.

The staff that chose not to listen yet again while Bede’s condition worstened.

The staff that left Bede screaming in inconsolable distress, which started to induce oxygen drops, because everyone was too busy to administer his prescribed relief because there were “not enough staff”. I raised my voice, begging them to find the time to help him.

I find it hard to believe that in these situations the most intimidated person in the room was your staff.

These are some of the people we did raise our voices at saying “this is not good enough”. I wish these were the only problems we have had or even that they were the worst but we both know they are not. Who we didn’t raise our voices at was the HITH staff in our home who despite us telling them more than 24 hours in advance that Bede’s medication was about to expire ordered none because it was and I quote “too expensive” and left him with compromised antibiotic coverage while he fought life threatening meningitis and yet this service is being withdrawn.

I am sure your staff are intimidated by a family who are willing to point out where they’ve got it wrong. No one likes to be wrong. That does not mean we have done anything worthy of having our son denied services.

Indeed I often find all of this very intimidating. I find it intimidating that people could be so careless with Bede’s well being.That life saving antibiotics could be forgotten or “too expensive” to order. That schedule 8 narcotics could be administered so carelessly and recklessly that times aren’t even adjusted to preserve his respiratory drive. That neutropenic children are entering infectious rooms that have not been cleaned properly.

I find it incredibly intimidating that so often Bede’s care is really and tangibly affected by your lack of staff.

Most of all I find it intimidating that we can quietly and politely advocate for anywhere between hours and days and no one listens. That our family has no choice but to raise our voices to be heard, to minimize the effects of your hospital’s short comings on our son but that takes and has taken a huge toll on us.

I find intimidating that a man like you, can sit across from a family like us in a meeting, and reject that that is the only way for us to get results. I challenge you to show us one other way that we have not explored in the past with great failure. Indeed we have done everything the hospital have asked of us and you were unable to say you would have done differently.

Yet the hospital has no perspective. No ability to self examine and see what is going wrong, what effect these problems are having on Bede, and how we could minimize it happening in the future. Even more than intimidating I find it disrespectful of Bede and I resent that rather than addressing these issues the focus is firstly on covering your own behinds and then on the times we have been pushed to raise our voices in the hope of being heard as we say “this is not good enough for Bede”. My understanding is that staff who have neglected to give Bede vital medications haven’t even been counseled on the matter.

I find it intimidating that because our family dared to stand up and say ‘No, this is not good enough’ in the only way to which you would listen Bede is now denied a service that is vital to the enjoyment of his short life. I find it very intimidating that we have to choose between advocating for the best possible outcomes for Bede and him being punished for us doing so.

Of course it is important to remember that Bede has had life prolonging treatment at PMH.  We are acutely aware of the gift of time that the staff have afforded Bede and that a lot of times the staff are amazing. There are a number of staff at the hospital that are so much more than we could have ever hoped for for Bede and we are deeply thankful however, the gift of time does not excuse the carelssensess or needless pain or stress on Bede’s body and the need to advocate remains. In fact many times our advocating comes with the quiet but firm support of staff members and indeed has been encouraged by some staff for fear of where Bede would be or what he would have to endure without it.  Mostly that support comes from staff you may not have expected support to come from, nurses we’re not at all friendly with at times imploring us, urging us to go on. Acknowledging there is no choice. Whether they dare say it to the manager that tacitly enables these problems or not these same staff are dismayed by your current decision.

When your staff compromise Bede’s care in ways that will have real and negative impacts on our son’s enjoyment of his short life we will continue to advocate for him. He is worth it. We will continue to be intimidated by the fact that your staff’s negligence has endangered his life in the past and that you use our frustration as a means to deny him hospital services but we will continue to advocate in the face of that because despite our intimidation we are still obliged to do our job even if you are not compelled to do yours.

Really you should be thanking us, I suspect you would have had a lot bigger problems on your plate than a cross but controlled mother had we not advocated.

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Bede’s had enough and so have we.

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I have never posted the negatives of our journey on this blog before.
This is not even a handful of them.
We have instead sought to focus on the positives.That enables us to enjoy Bede and we are also mindful any negativity can impact upon other families.
The main reason I have never shared this information is because I did not want  it to detract from Bede’s shine but I suppose it is testament to Bede that he shines in spite of it.
Roy and I think it is important to share now. We think it is important that Bede’s reality is acknowledged. I hope those of you that come here to find out how Bede’s soul is travelling will bear with me for this one post.
I want to say publicly this is not good enough and I wanted to invite you to say it with us.
A proper Bede update is to follow. He is splitting his time between hospital and home and he is still with us and is of course shining.

 

  • EDIT: Comments have been disabled in this post.
    I think it is very important to advocate for Bede strongly and truthfully and demonstrate that while the bureaucrats have the power of the hospital behind them Bede’s power is in the love he can generate. It is a positive power and I think that is important. We have had nearly 1000 Facebook shares in around 24 hours. Please keep sharing the Bede love.
    We are indignant and we are humbled.
    Issy

Bright blessed days and dark sacred nights.

This will be one of my longest blogs. A lot has happened in a short period of time and I am too tired to make this post beautiful, too tired to make it appealing, too tired to cull the boring bits. This is what it is. Bede’s truth.

The last week started with an ambulance ride and ended with so many of us praying. Here’s what happened.

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After arriving at the hospital on Monday Bede started to deteriorate on Tuesday night and we started to worry that we were losing Bede.

He was fighting a winnable battle but he was exhausted and he was coming from behind. He was more tired than we had ever seen him and just breathing was hard work. For the first time ever he was finding it difficult to shine through and that was devastating.

I sent a message to our family and friends recruiting love and positivity but even as I sent it I knew one part wasn’t true. “there must be more to come”. I realised he had filled us up, his light has shone bright and he has been more than enough for our family. That scared me even more. Perhaps it was time.

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My gut told me it was line ball and we were in trouble. The doctors agreed it wasn’t good and we may lose him. Bede fought valiantly but I was losing my boy.

Come Wednesday afternoon I asked for a moment alone with Bede. I whispered in his ear that I loved him. I sat by his cot holding his hand and told him the truth. I told him he is magnificent and that he had exceeded all expectation. I told him he had made me happier and given me more than I could have ever asked or hoped for. I told him he had done enough now and if he was tired and if he wanted to go that was ok, he could. He had given us more than I could have ever hoped and if he chose to stay around for a while it could be our turn to give back to him but whatever he chose was ok.

He was exhausted.

ICU came and gave him more supportive measures. My incredible husband Roy describes it as “he was standing on the edge of the cliff but not looking down”. We were maxed out. Any more support meant we would have to be transferred off the ward to ICU; he would need to be anaesthetized and ventilated. We needed to consider what our wishes were for Bede. Our primary doctor one of Bede’s biggest advocates said that should the time come we ventilate. For now we fight and that made sense because he was still fighting to. She acknowledged we were in a bad place but told me she still had faith in him. We both decided it was time to get Gus in to see Bede just in case. Gus brought unconditional healing love into the room and sat by Bede as I held him and Gus read to him for a while. Then overnight what has become almost the ordinary happened. Bede put his head down and one foot in front of the other and he worked. Slowly but surely he reclaimed himself. He shined again.

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We had about  24 hours of peace. Bede remained maxed out but we suspected he was able to progress and were just giving him a chance to rest. Then it all turned again.

Bede’s body writhed and thrashed uncontrollably. He screamed in distress.

We kept pumping him full of an array of IV drugs to try and stop it but nothing worked. ICU came down and spoke to us about the possibility of anaesthetizing him and ventilating him until hopefully this episode passed. We were now losing him again but in a completely different way.

The on call consultant who knows Bede well talked to me on the phone at 4am. He said it was time to stop the drugs, they weren’t working. There was nothing we could do to make him comfortable. It was time for us to just hold him through it. That was the hardest thing I have ever done and late that sleepless night I wrote this:

I have always said Bede’s resistance to cancer was much like a peaceful protest, his gentle strength forging the way.
Tonight it’s all out war. It is violent. He is in the trenches. He is fighting a messy, dirty battle and he is doing it with grit and determination.

It almost reminds me of a shark feeding frenzy. The waters obscured by the movement, frantic, fast. His limbs are flailing his back arching, he’s cycling through uncontrollable movement and agitation before managing to ground himself for just a moment before the next round. It is unrelenting.
I’ve never liked the word fighter for Bede, I’ve always found it too abrasive for his gentle soul but tonight he is fighting for his peace, for his light, for his life. Refusing to be taken easily, refusing to leave his big brother just yet, refusing to be robbed of what he has rightfully earnt – some time off treatment by the beach enjoying life.

It was pretty accepted that Bede wasn’t aware of us at that point but I refused to believe I couldn’t reach my baby on some level. I spent the night trying to pour love into him so in the midst of his despair he wouldn’t feel alone. It took every ounce of my being to smile as I sung “this little light of mine” my voice shook and my mouth trembled but I smiled and I sung and I tried to fill him with positivity and love and so did his daddy. I think we all found out just how hard we can fight that night.

imageEven in the depths of his despair, as he thrashed and wailed, he paused. He became Bede. He looked at me and he smiled, his light shining brilliantly, dazzling until seconds later he succumbed again. He took a moment to remind us just how hard he can fight, to remind us it takes a bit more than this kind of horror to keep him down. As he thrashed his light was dimmed but unassailable he glowed. His gentle loving soul fortifying us reminding us to be peaceful be patient.

On Friday morning after 12 brutal hours neurology saw us. It wasn’t seizures. He was aware of us he just couldn’t show us that. The movements were coming from a different part of the brain and were not sure why it’s happening. Finally early yesterday afternoon we got it under control. A lot of those measures have a sedative effect so he is catching up on his rest.

Now he sleeps. His vital signs, his heart rate, his oxygen, his respiratory rate are all good. We have managed to do a miniscule reduction in the support from ICU, it is a reduction nonetheless and soon we will start him on a tiny feed of 5 mls an hour. It will be the first time his body has had food since early Monday morning.

Today he gently tip toed his fingers across my own, he smiled gently but purposefully. He is resilient.

Last night Bede’s aunt came and played the guitar and serenaded him. Her chords permeated his upset and he relaxed. She played all his favourite songs and created a few new favourites. She helped me help him resist drifting back into despair and helped us give him some sweetness.

If we didn’t know already over the last few days we have found out what our son is made of.

Bede is weakened but he is not diminished, his strength incontestable, his light indelible. His soul glistens with hope and love and beauty and light and joy. He is a blessing in its purest form.

The fight is hard but he is soft. He is tender and he is warm. The fight is robust and he is delicate.

Although it is not perfectly apt it reminds me of a quote that I came across some time ago.

 Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, 
adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. 
Darkness cannot drive out darkness: 
only light can do that. 
Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

So yes the fight is hard, the cancer is dark and Bede is soft and glowing and tender and I feel like that is just what he needs to be. It is not fair and it is not right and this did not “happen for a reason”. It stinks but if there were ever a baby up to the challenge you better believe it is Bede. His soft beautiful love, his gentle soul, his resilient tenderness and his purposeful persistence have him in with a fighting chance and for this fight I’m backing Bede. Cancer ain’t seen nothing yet.

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I want to add a thanks to all the nurses who have surrounded him and us with genuine care this admission and who have prayed for him. Who have made us feel like Bede matters and is valued even in this environment that he is more than just a number on the ward that he is cared for. I want to thank everyone who has sent him love and positivity this past week. From virtual strangers to our nearest and dearest thank you. Your love strengthens him and us and enables him to work his magic.

Bede has been remarkable.

If he chooses to go it is ok. He has done enough and I have tried to be enough. Mothering him has been a privilege. I have tried to empower him to make his mark through this blog and through all of you. If he chooses to stay that would be a dream but if he chooses to go I hope you will help me to wrap him up in love and tenderness and light and joy and soulful kindness. In the meantime, while we wait, I hope you will help me fortify him with love and positivity as his light has so often fortified me for the fight.

As I nuzzle my head against his own I am at home in the world and I count my blessings.

(I did a photo post earlier today showing some of the last 6 weeks including our happier times and times of growth and joy. you can check it out here)