Oncology, Wii Games and Storm Troopers

Life becomes surreal the moment that you get a diagnosis that you have a critically ill child. There is no time to process or feel all of the big feelings as you are reeling and trying to learn everything you can about your new reality on the same day that your child is diagnosed.

So we stumbled into the Medical Day Unit at CHEO where oncology is housed and waited to hear how our life as we knew it would completely change. While we waited Ollie spied a Wii machine in the corner and we kept ourselves busy figuring out how to work it in hopes that we could do one thing to make things normal for our active 7-year old who aside from a crazy bump on his neck had no other obvious symptoms of cancer. He and daddy got it going and it was a blessed distraction.

Eventually we were shown into an exam room. There we met our new support team including the head of oncology, our assigned doctor, our social worker and our oncology coordinator. We began talking and asking questions when Ollie interjected, "Are we just going to stay here and TALK all day?!" So the social worker took him back into the waiting room to play more Wii and while there he also got to see a bunch of Storm Troopers who were visiting that day. All in all a pretty great day for him...other than the diagnosis that is. I'll write more on this another time because CHEO really has an incredible way of making the darkest times fun for kids.

We spent hours with the oncology team and they let us ask every question we could think of. We're still waiting on the final pathology and tests to confirm the ALCL and therefore the exact treatment plan, but we know that they are going to start him on chemotherapy and we are looking at an intensive treatment period of at least 6 months. The good news is that it is treatable and kids generally respond really well to treatment.

Eventually we brought Ollie back in and they helped us to explain it all to him. It all became too much for him even though his doctors were so positive and said that they were going to cure him and he began to plug his ears and talk very loud, which the social worker said was normal escapism. Unfortunately we had to cap off a hard day with a blood test to check his levels to see if anything had changed in the month since we had first had a blood test at CHEO.

Finally, we got to go home. I spent a good part of the rest of the day in tears as I texted and called family and close friends while Mario watched movies with Ollie. I informed the school administration team and the kids teachers by e-mail because I knew I'd have to pick Abby up from school and didn't want them asking me about the results in front of her and risk having a breakdown.

When I arrived at school and was waiting for Abby, the office administrator and two teachers that my children have had already knew and just hugged me and told me they were all with us and we would get him through it, then quickly scattered when Abby came in. When we left and I told Abby the news at her insistence before we got home, she was inconsolable. It was the second time that day that my heart split in two. When we both calmed down, we agreed that this will be our greatest challenge, but we will overcome it, and then we put on a brave face to go home to our new normal.