Our christmas star.

Posted on December 14, 2014 by isabellanancy

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.

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.

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.

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

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!!!!!

He said he does not believe Bede’s tumour is terminal.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Bede’s tumour is growing.

Posted on August 14, 2014 by isabellanancy

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…

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.

Brain Cancer

Posted on August 6, 2014 by isabellanancy

This blog post was written in April of this year at a time when our family was under a lot of external pressures and Bede was not in as good a place as he is now. He was incredibly ill. A couple of people repeatedly expressed to my husband that all cancer is the same and that night I wrote this blog. When I chose not to post it I almost stopped blogging. I’m posting this now in hope of undoing my writer’s block so I can start to communicate the joy of Bede again. This blog has always sought to be honest, our positivity and our happiness is honest. A number of people involved with brain cancer, including other brain cancer mothers, have asked me to post the blog as they feel it is an honest representation. So here goes….

Let me tell you something, it is not a gentle drifting.
It is not a slow but gentle decline. It is not an all encompassing nausea.
It is an all out assault. It is brutality in its purest form. It is invasive.

It takes your inner core and torments it.
Hours of distress and constant uncontrollable movement.
Vomiting even when the tube surpasses his stomach so there are no contents just painfully retching up pure bile for hours at a time.

Repeated spells of lifelessness.
Seizures.
Brain irritiation that just results in constant screaming.
Losses of oxygen.
For some loss of sight, loss of hearing, loss of ability to control your own bowel or empty your bladder or walk or swallow or talk and Im not just talking end stage here. I am talking this is life. This is where the hope is lingering.

Bede’s bones are breaking, his gut is breaking down, his brain is irritated, his vertebrae is collapsing in on itself and both his knees are fractured.
He is not able to communicate what is wrong.
Sometimes I don’t sleep for 30 hours at a time while I try and soothe his symptoms. This is mentally, emotionally and physically the hardest test of endurance I have ever met.
None of this stops when the chemo does. When the chemo stops all of this hits it’s stride.

There is death. Sitting in the room with death and wondering if this week, this day, as I press the red emergency bell, if this moment is his death. Not fighting, not resisting, wondering. That is repeated frequently and that is exhausting.

People say they can not imagine losing a child. Well imagine having that happen repeatedly in the space of a week. Watching their body go lifeless. Watching their numbers drop on the monitor. Feeling the adrenalin surge through you. Trying to keep your voice steady as you reassure him hoping to reach him on some level.
Trembling as the doctors explain what is happening and this is still our best and only option.

Let me tell you something else at no point do you get used to your child dying. Each time his body goes limp and lifeless, each time the doctors mistakenly tell you he is end stage and it could be any time, each time he has a seizure that can not be controlled, each time is just as traumatic as the first.

It doesn’t matter how at peace you are with his death, how comfortable you have become in it’s presence, how many times you have given him your blessing to go each time it winds you, each time I sob. One of the most recent times I was alone. My husband was not at the hospital, he had been on speaker phone for the news but when the conversation stops, the practical discussion ends I am reduced to guttural weeping. Clinging to my son’s doctor as though that could change anything.

There is horror here. There is blackness and desolation.

You sit there and you tell us all cancer is equal, its all the same. That we shouldn’t need to support each other quite so much.

If all cancer is equal why do I long for a different cancer for my son.
Why is there not even the hope of cure for my son?
Why when I tell the nurses and the doctors what you say do they shake their heads in disbelief?
Why has my son spent the majority of the last 5 weeks sedated?
Why is it even improvement in the tumour robs him of his autonomy?

When you say that all cancer is the same you deny his brilliance. Because this is black and this bleak and this is hard but he is soft and he is light and he is hope and he smiles when I know you or I would never, could never, have the strength of character to.

So all of the light and positivity and happiness I have always blogged about is true. the miracle is that his light is not diminished by the darkness, he radiates through it. Shining and glistening and laughing and exploring his way through life.

This is harder than you have the ability to imagine.
Bede’s is a story of triumph but triumph does not come without a cost and when you deny his reality you deny his brilliance and I will not sit idly by while you do that.

I will not sit idly by while you diminish the brutality and the relentless reality of childhood brain cancer. I will not allow our focus on positivity and light and love to enable your misconceptions.
So here I am correcting you in the name of Imzadi and *Luca and Harvey and *Ben whose deaths were slow and painful and prolonged and unimaginable and who fought with cheek, valiance, love and grace respectively.
In the name of Bede and & Blake who fight the incredible fight with smiles and songs and love and joy.

Brain cancer is not better or worse. It is different, it is more hopeless and the demands it places on patients and families are in a league of their own.
Bede may be small but you better believe he is mighty.

infographic obtained from http://www.curebraincancer.org.au/page/8/facts-stats

Note:

* some names have been changed to respect the privacy of the deceased.

Sadly Blake has passed away since this post was first written.

This blog is not intended to diminish the sadness, real deep difficulty, pain of other cancers. This blog is a reflection of my experience of pediatric brain cancer and my observations after spending a year on the peadiatric oncology ward. One of my dearest friends in the world lost her beautiful precious daughter to leukemia recently. I am not seeking to diminish the tragedy of other cancers.
I am saying the dance to the grave is different and I am hoping to seek understanding of that.

If your into it. Please take the time to follow the blog. Then the next time Bede needs some positivity and hope behind him we can call on you to send a dose his way.

Dear Gus, thank you for your nurturing cooling shade.

Posted on August 5, 2014 by isabellanancy

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Bright blessed days and dark sacred nights.

Posted on November 30, 2013 by isabellanancy

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.

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.

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.

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.

Even 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.

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)

Half way through and the triumph is his.

Posted on October 19, 2013 by isabellanancy

It has been an incredibly difficult few weeks, some of our worst in fact but in this moment Bede is defiant and triumphant. He shines, purposefully and hopefully.

Bede’s happy soul and his inherent light are irrepressible. He bubbles and the delight he is taking in the world is contagious and full. He is cheerful. His coos are high and happy. He laughs freely now. A breathy chirpy chuckle. His happiness comes with a new found ease and he draws us all in. We are taken and my god we are happy.

I am working on a post to update you on the last few weeks but it is difficult. A lot has happened and it has been taxing. I don’t think it is too dramatic to say we could have lost him and yet here he is now displaying his joy and resilience in all their glory. Bede is triumphant.

I just wanted to make sure I took this moment to mark Bede being halfway through his treatment. To that aim I’m posting the slideshow I referenced in my last post.

Here is Bede, putting one foot in front of the other and quietly, diligently, purposefully, happily, joyfully kicking cancer’s ass. Here is Bede bringing light and love and wonder to all those around him. Here is Bede facing a rare brain cancer and doing it with grace. Here is Bede, take note he won’t be here long and he is magnificent.

Thanks for stopping by and thanks for seeing our beautiful Bede.

Thank you for wrapping him up in your love.

Thank you for empowering him to be known to the world by sharing his story.

My gratitude to you all runs deep.

If you want the music make sure you turn on the sound.
Please don’t forget to follow the blog so next time we need a mini miracle we can call on your positivity to help carry him through. There should be a little grey box at the bottom of your computer screen that says ‘follow’, its that easy,
Is.

joie de vivre

Posted on September 6, 2013 by isabellanancy

There is joy here! There is growth and exploration and happiness and joy. There is normality and comfort and love and warmth. There is courage and blossoming confidence and just thankfulness and delight taken in being together and watching Bede grow. There is so much joy here.

Constant teething

Bede has been busy mastering lots of new skills.

He has been babbling more.

First he regained neck control, which was amazing. He lost it when the disease doubled and he got so sick. Now he is nearly sitting up all on his own.

If I let him hold onto my little finger just as a point of balance (he usually chews it) he will sit up for 5 minutes or so. If I sit him on my lap with absolutely no support he will sit upright for 20 seconds or so. I just can’t believe how far he has come. He seems to be only a couple of months behind some healthy babies which is incredible! We have graduated up to the next kind of chair and soon enough will be on to the bumbo which is a regular baby seat.

Bede’s first unassisted sit up but no one but me to take a photo

Bede can play! wooooohooooooo!

He has been teething and while eventually, the novelty wore off I think at least in the beginning he quite enjoyed it. Finally here is an itch he can scratch, a pain he can self soothe, something he has some input over. He has had his fingers in his mouth rubbing his gums constantly and yesterday, finally, it broke through.

He’s eating ‘solids’!!! Just rice cereal to start with but this week we introduce his first flavour. I haven’t completely decided what it will be yet but I’m thinking sweet potato. He’s doing so well at it. Opening his mouth, chewing, swallowing, and coordinating himself. Some people thought he may never eat solids so this really is awesome. I’ve been super unorgnaised with it to. I think if I’d been more onto it he’d be even further along so I’m going to get on top of it this week.

He is smiling again! For the first time since the meningitis took hold! He gave his daddy a massive smile for father’s day. The perfect gift.

long before his diagnosis and long after Bede’s nickname was smiley. We love seeing him happy but he won’t take his fingers out of his mouth!

He is so alert and engaged all the time. He’s taking everything in and participating and my thankfulness and joy run deep.

We went toy shopping for Bede the other day and got him a wonderful stash of toys that his brother is delighting in playing with with him. We bought 3 rain makers because they are his favourite; he goes still listening to them.

He tried out his newest therapy tool today which is especially designed for kids who may be vision impaired. It’s a box that has all bits and pieces dangling around him. It’s hard to explain but the idea basically is that it allows him to explore texture and feel and sound without having to move very far and he gets a lot of feed back for not too much effort. It also amplifies the sound of the rainmaker so he fell asleep. (He’s completely undressed because we kept trying to wake him up and he would only stay awake if he was cool.)

So despite the cancer, despite the meningitis he is growing. I love that. I love what an amazing soul he is. I love that he does things on his own terms and surprises us at the least expected moments.

His face is swollen again from the drugs but we are weaning off them again. 8 weeks ago Bede’s neck was stuck arched back and to the side there is no way he could have done this.

I can’t even put in to words all that Bede is at the moment. He is growing and evolving and reaching but not really changing. He is all that he has always been just more so.

I feel I have come to know him so much more over the last few weeks and goodness I am so incredibly fond of who he is growing in to and yet he is just the same.

All that he has always been remains but now I see how, with control and agency, that converts to his day-to-day approach to life. I suppose I’m seeing things that I always innately knew about him but now I get to really watch in action. His determined gentleness as he masters a new skill, his calm as he tries something scary, his tenderness as he strokes his hand over the top of mine exploring my being and my soul.

He is resilient. Despite the cancer he is developing and growing and that is really quite remarkable.

We are hoping our doctor gives us the all clear tomorrow and we can steal away down south to our dear friends’ property for a few nights tomorrow and maybe visit some other friends. There are chooks, vegetable patches, a trampoline, lots of trees, yabbies, clear stars and as much fresh air as you could possibly hope for. We are really excited to get the boys down there and sit by the fire.

We have had two weeks at home now while we postpone the chemo and treat the meningitis and despite some hospital stresses and mistakes it has been absolute bliss. It has felt close to normal. It has been enough time for him to develop a sleep routine which is such a normal thing but I have relished in it. I have loved the normality, we all have.

brothers checking out the chocolate factory during a wonderful day trip to the swan valley

Tuesday was another MRI we’re not expecting anything earth shattering either way. Sometimes that’s when you get sucker punched so that makes me slightly nervous for the results in an irrational way.

Tomorrow we tap Bede’s shunt again, which involves inserting a needle into the lump on his head and removing some brain fluid. There is a lot riding on it. If the three weeks of IV antibiotics haven’t worked and any meningitis remains Bede will need multiple brain surgeries, ICU time, lengthy admissions and a massive delay on chemo which may allow the tumour to grow. Roy and I will really be left questioning how we should move forward.

We are hoping, and praying and thinking positively and just really wanting that sample to come back clear of meningitis.

He is growing, he is loving, he is living. He is evolving and consolidating and smiling. He’s been knocked down but he is getting back up.

It has never been truer…

Through it all he is small but he is mighty.

Oh Happy Day!

Posted on July 7, 2013 by isabellanancy

My cup is full. I am brimming with joy and happiness and thankfulness. A smile irrepressibly spreads from one corner of my mouth to the next. Life is grand and beautiful and saturated with colour and light.

Bede turned 6 months old on the 2nd and we celebrated. We celebrated with balloons and colours and cake and love.

Time is a funny, elastic thing. If you asked me if I have had long with G who is 7 years I would say not at all, he is still a baby. But this week when I think of Bede I feel like 6 months is a long time. It feels like a miracle. I have truly loved and fully lived each of those days and fully immersed myself in the experience of Bede’s life. Being Bede’s mum has been all encompassing. I have held him for hours every day and made sure he has felt loved and nurtured and safe. My love for him is embossed on every cell of my being.

6 month old Bede isn’t too much different to the one month old Bede. He is calm, resolute, substantial, joyful, curious and happy. He shines. He seeps beauty and grace and oh so much light. even when he can not phsyically mould his mouth into a smile you can see the light and happiness pouring from his eyes. The main difference is now we know just how much he is capable of. He is capable of more than simply enduring. He is capable of growing and evolving through the most daunting and trying circumstances.

Bede has really taught me a lot about unconditional happiness. I mean it when I say there are times when he can not physically smile but he is happy. His happiness is not pre determined by his conditions, it is not ruled by externalities. He cultivates it from deep within. Like a kaleidoscope his happiness is the reflection of so many things , his family, his toys, a world to explore even if it can not be as vast as yours or mine, his curiosity, his disposition. At times I find myself walking down a corridor on the children’s cancer ward smiling and I feel what Bede feels, unconditional happiness that is not dependant on my environment or material things or anything and I know Bede has taught me a lot.

Bede was so sleepy but so happy to be in the fresh air, tasting ice cream and experiencing his parent’s joy at having him outside.

Other than Bede’s 6 month celebration there has been a lot of other bits of happiness floating around. Last weekend we got home for about 8 hours. The ward also had a BBQ and Bede wore a party hat. We broke all the rules and snuck some ice cream into his mouth.
He has started mouthing at things a lot and we are so excited to start feeding him food soon. I have never taken food granted and can not wait to share with Bede the adventure of taste, such an essential party of experiencing this world of ours.

Roy is obviously so proud of his little baby boy as he watches Bede commandeer his rusk. He seems excited and hopeful and happy and just really really proud.

The truth of course is there is always a balance. This post sounds boldly happy and things are but at the same time there are still moments, quiet moments, even sad moments. There is always a choice to be had. There are moments where you think that 6 months old means we’re already a quarter of the way through Bede’s life expectancy. We choose to focus on the moments where we just feel blessed to have had him this long.

At the moment he is bold and curious and an explorer. Most of all he is adored and rightly so. Well actually in this moment by the time this blog finally goes to air he will probably be asleep and we MAY have even got home! Fingers crossed. Love to you all.

Triumph & Trauma

Posted on June 27, 2013 by isabellanancy

I have just realised that we have all been so wrapped up in the beautiful moments this last week all our photos are of us sleeping.

I try to keep this blog about who Bede is and how he is doing rather than just boring everyone with the details or even, sometimes the despair, of what is happening. Sometimes though, I think the details are important at least for the purpose of letting our families know and certainly as a testament to Bede’s strength and the pride we feel for him.

In the last 3 weeks Bede has had

Severe pain
Respiratory issues
Needed oxygen on and off for the whole 3 weeks
Heart rate issues
High blood pressure
Constant Morphine and Ketamine infusions
A blood infection
4 kinds of IV antibiotics
His permanent line come out
The lining of his small bowel breaking down
Vomiting and Diarrhea
Tumour growth
5 blood transfusions due to the chemo depleting his blood cells.
CTs
The skin around his bottom breaking down and bleeding
Cannulas and collapsed veins from blood tests
The hardcore chemo
Surgery to insert his new permanent line, this time an infuser port
MRI under general anaesthetic
And has been weaned off a lot of drugs

In fact the majority of these things unfurled in the first 2 weeks following the new chemo. Each day has been a new challenge and each day we have tried our best as a family to meet it. Day by day. I think rambling off that list is important because it really demonstrates just how remarkable our little Bede is. Through it all Bede remains calmly and firmly himself. I marvel that through all this trauma he has not only managed to continue smiling and shining but he has also managed to grow so much. We are incredibly proud of him.

We had an MRI on Friday which, incredibly, showed the new chemo has stabilised his cancer. Quite a feat really considering the tumour was growing so aggressively, it MAY have even shrunk it marginally.

This week we managed to stretch his IV lines all the way to the big bed and we slept together. Just like old times. Wrapping each other up in our sweet love.

We have had some positively wonderful times with bede. Uplifting times. Beautiful affirming days. One day in particular was incredible, we had an infant massage session, a music therapy session and a guided play session. He was so incredibly enlivened and engaged. He has definitely re earned his nickname smiley.

Bede has grown within his own mind so much.  He has a favourite page of a touch and feel book and reaches out to stroke the animal. He plays kissing games and smiles asking for more.

He freely gives away his joy by smiling indiscriminately. He smiles at everyone now, those jewels are no longer just for his Mumma and that makes me beam. His smiles are beautiful and luminescent, they of course shine so bright. His smiles make everyone else smile and the Bede effect is clear.

He has even managed to fulfill the secret hope I had for before the next chemo started. He is back to laughing.

I think what has brought Roy and I the most joy has been watching Bede discover, develop and explore his sense of playfulness. That purely childlike quality that is in its essence so far removed from his cancer and all that that entails brings a happy balance to his awe inspiring substance. His gentle determinedness remains resolute. In addition to that determinedness he now pauses and basks in the moment, seemingly bathing in his own light. Strengthened by happiness and curiosity.

We have now started the second round of the hard core chemo. We haven’t been home in four weeks. We are hoping to get home for a couple of days this cycle. I think it would so much good for Bede, it would reenergise Roy and I and would do the world of good for Gus.

I know its been far too long between posts by the state of all my inboxes. This has been such an incredibly intense and equally triumphant and traumatic time it has been difficult to update. Each time I tried I was overwhelmed by where to begin. I worry that I no longer have the emotional wherewithal to do justice to Bede with my words but I will continue to try so long as you all continue to pray for him and care for him and are sending him light and love and positivity.

Thank you.

choices

Posted on June 18, 2013 by isabellanancy

As you all know this blog started as an SMS just updating Bede’s physical condition. As it has grown I occasionally feel compelled to venture outside the scope. This post does just that.

Bede’s first chemo, Bede laughs in the face of cancer.

A while a go a comment was left on the blog that wasn’t approved.

It spoke of all the torture Roy and I were putting Bede through and the author said she hoped we would do the right thing soon.

Those of you that know us know it would take a bit more than some thoughtless words from a stranger to upset Roy and I or even to disturb our perspective. The comment did get me thinking.

We are at a stage of Bede’s treatment that at any time if Roy and I say it’s time to call it quits the doctors will support that. We have the ‘choice’.

It’s a funny concept that choice. I used to be lucky and naive enough to think people in situations like this had choices. That there would be value judgements, choices, to be made along the way. Most of all I thought there would be a choice to say ok Bede has had enough. That at some point it would be a matter of just gently letting him drift off. What a fairy tale that belief was.

In a treatment sense we have no real choices. It seems to me most of the families on this ward have no real choice. Most are fighting for their children’s life. We have the added responsibility of fighting for the quality of his death.

If 2 weeks ago we had chosen not to proceed with the treatment the tumour would have kept growing at the rate it was.

Bede was in excruciating pain. He would have had a horrifying death.

Because we went ahead it seems we may have thwarted some of the tumors growth and Bede’s pain is subsiding but he has needed blood transfusions, and has had infections and is just generally feeling pretty lousy after chemo but the treatment may buy him some good quality time at home playing with his brother and possibly a much less painful death. Prolonging his life prolongs his illness. There is no perfectly happy choice there.

We fight for him to have a better day but sometimes even those are rough, it is still the lesser of two troubles.

People may hold up this translucent illusion of choice in the hope of alleviating some sense of powerlessness but it is ineffective and unreal, that is not reality. Roy and I have no choices but a deep responsibility to honour Bede and all of his experiences whether that be life or death or the day to day struggles.

Tonight I met a beautiful young and wise Iranian woman. She said in a beautifully soft voice that there’s a saying that roughly translates to “God gives the hardest soldiers the hardest things” and she embraced me and kissed me. People tell you a lot of sayings when your child is diagnosed with cancer but that one really resonated with me. Perhaps it was the coarseness of the words mixed with the tender way she delivered them. We are strong enough to guide him through and soft enough to embrace every moment with him.

We may not have real treatment choices, we may be powerless in the direction our lives take but we are dealing with a profound little boy. Filled with light and substance. That alone empowers us to make life choices. We choose to face each obstacle with love and joy and thankfulness. We choose to sing to him and smile and cherish him. We choose to make his life loving even when it can not be lovely. We choose the fullness of life for as long as we are gifted with it.

We would both be sorry to think that any of you out there thought we were putting Bede through the trauma of childhood cancer just to satiate our own selfish needs to have him here. There are no real choices except the choice to love him and shower him with as much joy as we can muster. I assure you we do this.

This is Bede’s life and it is actually not torturous. He knows no different, he grieves no loss and is present in every moment. He leaves the horrible moments behind in the blink of an eye and happily loses himself in his Mum’s smile. There is a lot to be learnt there. Perhaps it is Bede who has the real choices. The choice of how he lives his life and there is a lot that can be learnt from the decisions he makes.

	Alex on Because you were his.
	Celina on Because you were his.
	Alex on Because you were his.
	Dijana on Because you were his.
	Michelle on Because you were his.

The Bede Update

He may be small but he is mighty

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