The Brave Boy and Therapeutic Clowns at CHEO (plus Mario photobombing)

Friday 23 April 2021

Appreciation, Vaccination and Integration

[Photo description: Ollie and Hope asleep in his bed while he hugs her.]

Throughout Ollie's cancer treatment, stem cell transplant and recovery period we have been loved and supported by so many. I've said this many times over the past year and a half and I never stop being overwhelmed by how many kindness have been sent our way. By the selfless acts and the humility with which people simply tried to do the right thing to help our family in whatever way they could when we were in need and to help us to keep Ollie as safe as possible throughout this period.

[Photo description: CHEO's signage last fall notifying visitors that it was flu season and of measures they'd put in place to keep patients safe.]

People took special care to prepare meals safely and only when they and their own families were well. I received several messages over his treatment from friends who were signed up to send meals that said someone in their family had a cold (pre-COVID) and they didn't want to risk passing it on to us so they either sent us an e-gift card to buy a meal for our family instead or brought it by later when they were all well again. 

[Photo description: A foil wrapped dish of Chicken Broccoli and Rice Casserole from one of Ollie's former kindergarten teachers with the message, "You've got this Ollie. Love Ms. Charron" with heating instructions.]

Some families who were helping us with nurturing and chauffeuring Abby checked in when they had illness at home to warn us that we'd have to reschedule or even went the extra mile and called another of our friends who were well to arrange to take Abby when they couldn't. The school would call us when there was an outbreak of anything they thought we should be aware of in case we wanted to keep Abby home for a few days to avoid potential exposure.

There were many gifts dropped off lovingly and carefully with notes or messages texted to us explaining how they had taken extra precautions to sanitize them for us before dropping off. Respectful drop offs happened regularly where they gave us space for safety even before COVID struck and we all needed to. I remember being in church in fall of 2019 and a mama I knew who had heard our diagnosis news came to me and hugged me apologetically. She said she knew she really shouldn't be putting me at risk by hugging me, but told me she knew this was likely the last hug we'd be able to have as treatment got under way because she was a cancer survivor (I hadn't known!) and knew what we'd need to do to keep him safe, too. 

[Photo description: Ollie in his hospital bed at CHEO just after COVID-19 began in Ottawa in March 2020. Dearest friends (family to us) Uncle Vic and Mackenzie play Beyblades with him while wearing masks to protect him (and this is long before masks were recommended).]

So many of our closest friends and family got flu shots over the past two flu seasons for OLLIE. Because they knew we might need their help and they couldn't risk passing a flu on to us when Ollie had low neutrophils from chemo and post transplant. Many of them wouldn't normally get a flu shot, but got it for us. They told us they knew they needed to be ready to help us and couldn't be anywhere near us if they got sick.

These are the most beautiful gestures of people caring for each other. Of people selflessly putting the needs of an immuno-compromised child before their own. Of realizing that they had the power to make things a little easier and a little less scary for us as we fought to save our child's life and began to fear all of the invisible bacteria and viruses that could potentially kill someone with a low functioning or non-existent immune system. These generous souls researched and educated themselves on how to help us. And it wasn't just people we knew. Many were friends of friends and some even perfect strangers in our neighborhood and our city who heard our story and were moved to help in some way.

[Photo description: Friend Alexa's Instagram post sharing that she had donated blood in BC in Ollie's honour.]

So many friends and family from afar have donated blood and tagged us in posts saying they were doing it for Ollie. Several incredible humanitarian friends got swabbed and are now on the international stem cell registry because they were moved by Ollie and Abby to try to help other families like ours who need matches to save their own children. And many many more have sent financial donations to us and to every single fundraiser we've supported for the various organizations that have helped us to survive it all.

Why am I reiterating so much of this now? Because the truth is we're always ALL OF US in this together and we're all connected whether or not we want to be or even realize it. This is true not just during cancer, nor just during COVID, but always. COVID has just made more people realize it and yet there are still some who continue to live their lives like they should do whatever they want, whenever they want, without concern for how it impacts others.

[Photo description: Dawn, Ollie and Mario wait at CHEO for caregiver COVID-19 vaccines.]

Last weekend Mario and I got our first Pfizer COVID-19 vaccinations at CHEO as part of the province's Phase 2 where caregivers of stem cell transplant recipients (they're vaccinating every recipient and/or their caregivers within 3 years of transplant) were finally eligible to get vaccinated. It was an emotional day and Ollie was with us to mark it, wishing he could get the vaccine too (he will as soon as it is approved for immuno-compromised children). As most parents would, we got it first and foremost to protect our little survivor. 

[Photo description: Dawn is given her first dose of Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine at CHEO during their caregivers' clinic.]

But the truth is that we would have done it for anyone else's child, too. Just as Mario was a Big Brother and I was a Big Sister for Big Brothers Big Sisters Ottawa to help other people's children. When we first volunteered we didn't know the children or families we'd be helping by volunteering to be mentors. We spent our time and money to help these children become strong and independent adults and I'll tell you it was totally worth it. I know that our not so Littles (both have families of their own now) and both of their moms read this blog. Any person who's volunteered to help someone else would attest to the fact that they felt that they got much more out of doing something good for others than they gave.  

[Photo description: Mario is given his first dose of Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine at CHEO during their caregivers' clinic.]

Getting back to the vaccine, I've watched this week as the AstraZeneca vaccine (that so many were fearful of due to reports of blood clots) was opened up to our peeps in the 40+ crowd and rejoiced in how friends and family have embraced this and went out in droves to find and get the jab wherever they could! Record numbers of fearless, altruistic people who just want us all to do the right thing and take care of each other and end this nightmare finally. Again, I got so many messages from so many of you sharing that you got it, knowing that each one makes my anxiety lessen a bit and increases my hope that Ollie and all of us can safely rejoin the world again soon. We love that so many of you think of us, but know that you are all worth protecting and so are your loved ones, too, so please keep getting vaccinated everyone! 

[Photo description: Ollie high fives Mario after getting the first dose of the Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine at CHEO during their caregivers' clinic.]

Before I sign off, I want to share a powerful and a shockingly familiar story with you. It's about a smiley, kind, smart, determined 13-year old boy named Mateo. I tell you this story and share his photos with permission from his amazing mama who shared them lovingly with me. 


In the summer of 2016 Mateo became very ill and doctors couldn't figure out what it was, so he was admitted to CHEO for a month and a half while they did countless tests to get a diagnosis. By October he had started to grow lumps on the side of his neck and a biopsy finally revealed that he had Anaplastic Large Cell Lymphoma. He also had Hemophagocytic Lymphohystiocytosis (HLH) which is a severe inflammatory syndrome and complicated his ALCL treatment significantly, making him higher risk. The ALCL had also spread to his spleen and lungs by the time he was diagnosed. 

[Photo description: Mateo before being diagnosed with Anaplastic Large Cell Lymphoma.]

Dr. Abbott (Ollie's doctor) was his oncologist and I'm told he adored her (as do we). He began with the standard ALCL treatment that involved 6 rounds of chemo and his disease shrunk on his scans after the first treatments. Suddenly during his treatment he relapsed with lymphoma in his brain and spine. He went blind in one eye. They gave him stronger chemo treatments to try to get him into remission, which made him very weak and sick. The doctors tried desperately to find clinical trials that he might qualify for, but his condition was quickly deteriorating and the timing to get into a trial was more than they had. He also had radiation, but it wasn't enough. They had been told that if he could get into remission he could get a stem cell transplant at Sick Kids Hospital because miraculously his brother was a perfect match. Sadly even the hard core chemo and radiation couldn't get him into remission. The boys begged for a chance at transplant and with no other options left, Sick Kids agreed, but it was very high risk. They both got baptised just before they went to Toronto for transplant. 

Mateo got his brother's beautiful and perfectly matched stem cells, but he was too sick. A week after his transplant he fell into a coma and wasn't expected to live more than a few hours, but ever the determined fighter, he hung on so they transferred him home to Ottawa where he passed five days later in June 2017. His family and friends have missed him every single day of the four years that he's been gone.

[Photo description: Mateo during treatment for Anaplastic Large Cell Lymphoma.]

I believe in the depths of my soul that Mateo and his unbelievably brave family taught our oncology team what they needed to know to save our Ollie. That Dr. Abbott knew how to treat his first relapse and to request the miracle drug Lorlatinib from Pfizer (developed and clinical trials done since Mateo passed) under compassionate grounds after Ollie relapsed the first time because she knew we'd likely need a plan C and had to be ready with it quickly. Thanks to this it was there and ready to access when we needed it and it saved his life.  Mateo helped to save my son. 

His mama and I are forever connected because of our sons. She wanted me to use her son's name proudly and tell this story because it keeps his memory alive and validates for us that every life is important and we're all connected in ways we cannot even imagine. That the sacrifices that we make daily help others and even when we are suffering, others will learn and gain from it. I can never repay her family for their sacrifice, but I will always speak of Mateo as the true hero that he was. 

[Photo description: Mateo at the beginning of cancer treatment at CHEO opens his shirt to reveal a Superman shirt underneath.]

So every one of you out there working through your own fear on the frontlines to keep us all safe, contributing to research, accepting risk for the greater good, taking care of each other, wearing masks, washing hands, staying home during lockdown and getting your COVID-19 vaccine is a helper and a hero in their own way. No one sets out to be a hero, but by doing the right thing they become one.

[Photo description: A clipart character connects dots on the floor with a pen.]

You have literally no idea right now how what is happening to you today impacts others around you and those that follow in your footsteps. Just like Mateo and his family had no idea that although they'd lose him to ALCL, he'd one day help to save Ollie and inspire us to keep helping others after us. I'm so glad that I learned about Mateo and was able to connect the dots between his sacrifice and my son's survival. Connect the dots and draw the  lines between you and others. Be brave and giving like Mateo. It may just save someone else's life down the road.

Friday 16 April 2021

Hypothyroidism in the Springtime

[Photo description: Abby and Dawn sit on large rocks while Ollie and his CNIB Buddy Dog Hope stand beside them in the late afternoon in a field at the Central Experimental Farm in Ottawa]


It's been a busy month and we're grateful that spring (formerly March) break is finally here to give us a bit of a breather. I say a bit because there always seems to be something else going on and last week and this week it's been doing our interview and footage to tell Ollie's story for CHEO's upcoming annual telethon. It's a simple way we can help to give back because the best way we know to repay people for saving our son's life is to help them with resources to make their lives easier and to save others, too. 

We were also thrilled to participate in the recent annual third-party fundraiser, Snow Angels for CHEO and exceed not only our campaign goal, but the total fundraiser made beyond its goal, raising over $8,000 for CHEO's Oncology/Hematology unit. We are grateful to all who help us to give back to CHEO.

[Photo description: Ollie stands near the kitchen sink where he has been having an online lesson on 3-D shapes and their volume, while his vision itinerant teacher Mrs. Shepherd watches over from the tablet on the windowsill]

Ollie has been relatively well and with the transition to spring, has had a couple of tired weeks. He has been having some significant emotional outbursts lately due to frustration and anger, although he couldn't seem to put his finger on why. He's also been having bad dreams again and not had much appetite.

I honestly think his body and his brain subconsciously remember the trauma we all underwent last year at this time. He had a major melt down in April 8th. When I got thinking about why that might be after him saying he didn't know, I realized that last year on that day we were in Toronto preparing for stem cell transplant and were told he was relapsing again and the transplant was on hold. I don't believe in coincidences, so I honestly feel that he felt the trauma even if he couldn't name it. Usually I am same and have to check the calendar and sometimes this blog to see what was happening last year at this time that might explain my anxiety or general feeling of sadness. 

[Photo description: Ollie rests his head against CNIB Buddy Dog Hope's head as the two sit on his red sofa in his new clubhouse  waiting for the CNIB Spring Into Braille virtual event to begin. Ollie's team won the competition.]

On Monday Ollie saw the social worker at CHEO in addition to his regular bloodwork and check-up in hopes that talking to someone outside the family will help him to validate his feelings. It's awfully hard to support your children's mental health when yours isn't so stable. We are so grateful for the mental health services at CHEO and the help that they give our children.

[Photo description: Ollie sits on the floor of his clubhouse, peeking out from around two blow up NERF battle barriers while wearing safety glasses and pinching his NERF gun toward the camera. CNIB Buddy Dog Hope sleeps on her bed to the left of the frame while the NERF battle went on with mommy and daddy.]

I was sitting in the hall at CHEO's Medical Day Unit (Hematology/Oncology clinic) and wrote part of this while Ollie talked to Sherley and it felt surreal. So many hours spent there writing about our life over the past year and a half. People kept walking by and getting excited to see us such as other cancer- and stem cell transplant survivors and their parents as well as so many oncology staff who took amazing care of us all.

It's always so strange to me that a place you never want to go back to because of so much trauma is also so comforting and feels like coming home somehow. Maybe it's simply because we all have bonded through shared experience and our gratitude for the people who got us through it is so immense and gratitude feels good.

We got a call from Ollie's oncologist yesterday. As soon as I heard her voice only two days after seeing her and not expecting a follow up, my heart leapt into my throat for a moment. Thankfully she understood and immediately after I said hello she said, "Everything's okay."' Breathe. She called to let us know that the last two monthly blood tests showed that Ollie has hypothyroidism (a slow thyroid) and he needs to take hormones to fix that for at least a couple of months. It completely explains the fatigue, mood swings, lack of appetite and his significant weight gain lately. It is a relief to know that this is easily corrected. It's so hard to know if any of these types of things are psychological or physical. 

[Photo description: Ollie sits in a dental chair with his stuffie Llama Llama Blue Pajamas at CHEO's Dental Clinic while the dental hygienist prepares to clean his teeth. Ollie was getting a post-chemo/post-radiation/post-stem cell transplant x-rays and check up.]

We were there last week to visit CHEO's Dental Clinic, too. It's a seemingly little known fact that chemo can severely damage your teeth and in children even stop adult teeth from growing in at all. It's been a constant stressor as we fought him daily to brush his teeth, even on the days when he felt so sick. Thankfully after we got through the torture of x-rays (the plastic cut into his gums so mom had to put a lead vest on and hold the piece just so to enable the x-ray to finally get done...I am starting to feel that I am as radiated as he is, so thank goodness I'm past having more babies) and they cleaned and checked his teeth the doctor confirmed that everything looked great. Aside from them sealing two teeth to prevent future issues, he had no cavities or concerns. One long-term side effect we don't have to worry about!

[Photo description: Ollie sits on an exam bed wearing a ball cap and face mask with two thumbs up while Lisa Garland, nurse and owner of TiredSole Complete Foot Care stands behind him wearing a mask and giving a peace sign.]

A couple of weeks ago I took Ollie to see Lisa Garland, nurse and owner-operator of TiredSole so that she could laser the persistent plantar's warts on his feet. Lisa had reached out to me during Ollie's treatment to offer support. She is the incredible mama of two cancer survivors who were treated at CHEO. She treats a lot of post-cancer patients who often have issues like warts because of their compromised immune systems. She was awesome at calming Ollie's fears and his first treatment was quick and painless. We go back in next week for another treatment, but things are already looking better as he's no longer complaining of pain when he puts his shoes on and walks the dog. 

I've met so many amazing people like Lisa since this all started. I am constantly grateful for the many cancer families who have taken us under their wing and helped us to navigate every step of the cancer and post-cancer world. 

[Photo description: Ollie sits at the dining room table with his back to the camera while facing Mario who is standing behind a plastic deer head with cups in its antlers. The game is called, "Deer Pong". 😆]

Ollie is missing friends a lot right now. We know all kids are missing friends with lockdown, but remember that Ollie has not truly played with friends in over a year and a half now. We know we're almost in the end zone and just have to hold onto the ball for a bit longer to win the game, but man do those last yards feel like the longest sometimes! 

[Photo description: Ollie lies on his back on the sofa with his, eyes closed while leaning on CNIB Buddy Dog Hope.]

Thankfully he has Hope and she has quickly become his best friend. She is companion, playmate, physical trainer, unofficial therapist (he whispers feelings to her constantly) and a reason to get up everyday for him, even if he doesn't always feel like it.

 Today he participated in two online calls with the CNIB. One with coordinator of the Buddy Dog Program, Miriam, who helped us work with Hope a bit to overcome her body sensitivity issues and dislike of her Buddy Dog vest. And the other with Hope's Puppy Raiser and CNIB Marketing Communications Director, Catherine as well as Miriam and a bunch of other Buddy Dog duos. It's awesome that Ollie and Hope are one of only 14 of these dynamic duos in Canada. They were being trained today to do media interviews about the program if asked. Stay tuned for more info in a couple of weeks when the CNIB Guide Dog Program has its graduation and Ollie and Hope graduate officially! 

[Photo description: Mario, Abby and Dawn smile on a walk at the farm while squinting at the sun, while Ollie makes a funny face with his tongue out.]

We take Hope for long walks to the Experimental Farm almost every day and for a little while practice letting her off leash and getting her to follow 
 commands. She's really starting to see Ollie as her leader and listening well to him. 
[Photo description: Ollie walks Hope on her extendable leash while holding on to Mario's arm at the farm at dusk.]

Ollie has also been getting outside more thanks to Hope and spring. Easter weekend he got back on his skateboard for the first time in almost 2 years since testing and diagnosis. Balance is super difficult when you're blind, so as usual, Ollie showed us that nothing is going to stop him from doing what he loves. 

[Photo description: Ollie is on his skateboard, wearing a helmet and wrist guards while holding a victorious hand in the air to celebrate his first time back on the skateboard in almost 2 years since cancer arrived.]

He was pretty good before cancer and a regular at the indoor skate park near us called The Yard. He has literally loved skateboarding since he was barely old enough to carry one. It's one of the reasons to get well that he listed last year at this time when he had relapsed for the second time. It's so gratifying to see him getting back to things he loves. He was just 2 years old when he started and I admit it scared me somewhat, just as it scares me now that he's blind. But then and now he wore all of the safety gear and we let him do it in a safe and controlled way to help him to do it with harming himself as he learns (and re-learns). I remind myself that even though he can't see, he's still the same energetic, eager little boy who wants to try things and push his own limits. He's always been that way and still doing it.
[Photo description: Ollie at just 2 years old on a small skateboard inside the living room on foam mats while wearing protective helmet and pads.]

Most of the time Ollie is content to do tamer things like swing in the hammock with mama...

[Photo description: Dawn and Ollie take a selfie while lying in the hammock on the deck and enjoying unseasonably warm weather.]

Or start this year's vegetable garden from seed...

[Photo description: Ollie sits at a table in the deck and feels the packets of vegetable and flower seeds while preparing to plant them in seed pods.]

[Photo description: Ollie sits on the deck in the sunshine and pushes  vegetable seeds into growing pods.]
 
[Photo description: Ollie's green thumb is obvious in his seeds which began to grow in his mini greenhouse within a few days. Here seeds have started to sprout.]

[Photo description: In May 2020 Ollie was undergoing radiation after relapsing a second time in his brain  and was eager to plant a vegetable garden when he was home from Toronto.]

Last year he begged me to let him plant one despite his neutrophils being low and our concern about bacteria in the soil, but we braved it with gardening gloves. His garden grew really well then, too, but we never got to taste any of the veggies as we were already back in Toronto for stem cell transplant by the time they grew. I've assured him we'll be here to harvest and eat everything this year.

[Photo description: Ollie gets his second doses of two childhood vaccines and his Hepatitis B shot at CHEO while holding Llama Llama Blue Pajamas earlier this week.]

In other news over the past few days:

- My long term disability (LTD) claim was finally approved (a year after my work sick leave ended and 6 months after I actually applied) by the insurance company
- We just got scheduled for our COVID vaccines as caregivers to a stem cell transplant recipient (Phase 2 provincial vaccine priority). We can't wait for Saturday!

All in all, despite the seemingly never-ending lockdowns and missing people, a pretty good start to spring. Hope yours is shaping up well (in spite of pandemic), too.





Keeping the Family Healthy During and Post Cancer

When Ollie was first diagnosed I had a terrible upper chest and sinus infection. Likely exacerbated from the stress of testing and diagnosis...