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…

image

image

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.

He is the wonder that is keeping the stars apart

I am overwhelmed by this update. Everytime I start writing I remember a new detail. Why haven’t I done this post before now? Why have I left it so long when so many of you have been so eager to hear of Bede?

Well because I try and pick a moment in time when I can give you all a clear idea of where were at and over the last two weeks the landscape has constantly been changing. Everytime I have found my feet the world has gone hurtling off in a new direction and so many times, as we are in this moment, we have been left waiting for time to pass, for something to declare itself, for the doctors to catch up, for confirmation. We haven’t been able to find our feet.

I have written pages of details tonight but that is numbing. It all boils down to this.

He fought the infection.

We got home.

The moment we were least expecting it, after a gorgeous night with friends, things turned.

No one could figure out why but I knew there was an infection.

He was struggling.

His oxygen levels kept dropping really low and he turned blue a couple of times over the coming week.

I thought there was an infection so I postponed chemo and him having a depleted immune system. The doctors were happy to forge ahead so we did.

Bede got worse.

There were CTs that said different things depending on who you asked.

His brain was swollen.

His brain wasn’t swollen.

The tumour had a fresh bleed.

There is no fresh bleed.

The tumour is swelling.

The tumour is not swelling.

These oxygen problems are from the cancer you need to brace for losing him.

This is not from the cancer but we cant figure out what it is.

You need to consider signing Do Not Resuscitate forms in the near future.

My strong recommendation is that you do not sign Do Not Resuscitate forms at this stage.

His brain ventricals are enlarged

His brain ventricals aren’t enlarged.

All the time in the background I know he has an infection and despite their best efforts they’re missing it.

They tap his shunt which involves inserting a needle in to the lump on top his head and drawing back and seeing if any brain fluid comes out. It came, that meant the shunt wasn’t blocked, that wasn’t the problem.

“We’ll just send some of the fluid off for testing just to make sure there’s no infection.”

“Issy, he has meningitis”

"Another infection?!?!"

“Another infection?!?!”

"You didn't listen to Mum and Dad again?!"

“You didn’t listen to Mum and Dad again?!”

"COME ON!"

“COME ON!”

Here I am quietly and calmly wondering what next.

I called Gus and told him Bede had another sickness in his brain. He asked if it was weak. It’s a hell of a lot weaker than Bede, my beautiful son.

Ultimately we don’t know where we stand. There are risks we are hoping to avoid. There are things we are hoping will happen. Right now we’re in limbo. Waiting for the world to shift again.

In two weeks when it has felt like the world has turned a thousand times and the land scape shifted with each one of those turns one thing has stayed unmoving, Bede.

He is solid and he is heart breakingly beautiful.

His soul is profound and wraps me up as his little fingers reach out and they find my lips or my ear and they explore, tip toing around my face, defining his limits.

He is soft and tender and divine and he glows. Softly and gently and unassumingly his glow lights the way.

Our secret is before every defined fork in the road like surgery or an MRI I whisper to him repetitively

“you are strong, you are loved, you are important.”

Willing him to know his worth. Willing him to know his foot print on my heart is deep.

Willing him to know I recognize his fundamental greatness and I promise the world has taken note.

I care for him so much and in so many ways. I care that he knows the world is beautiful and that hears beautiful words but sometimes I am at a loss for words that are filled with beauty. So I read to him a poem. A poem I rediscovered when I was pregnant and felt so deeply back then that this poem was intrinsic to our connection but didn’t understand why. Usually I have my own words but when I don’t I borrow Mr Cummings’ because if I know only one thing it is that Bede is truly a once in a life time wonder.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

There is so much more to say but tonight I am overwhelmed by the telling. I will come and share all the happiness and all the triumphs of the last few weeks over the next few days because of course with Bede there is always so much joy. I will better update you on Bede’s little soul not just the happenings, tonight I knew many of you were waiting to know where we were in this moment. Where we are is that brain cancer is throwing Bede the worst its got and he is meeting the challenge with grace and beauty and gentleness and fortitude and light and love.

I am painfully thankful for my son. Now we are watching, once again, the mighty Bede demonstrate his grandeur and Roy and I are in awe of him.