Success of the "Abby Treatment"

Engraftment is when the blood-forming cells received on stem cell transplant day start to grow and make healthy blood cells. It’s an important milestone in transplant recovery.

As of today, Ollie's had: 

- Multiple days of various blood counts increasing with a White Blood Cell count of 1.59 today;

- Three days of neutrophils being consistently higher than 0.5, so he is no longer neutropenic and has begun to be able to fight infections with his new immune system; and

- Platelets have started to rise on their own so they no longer need to give him transfusions.

So...he's officially engrafted and his "Abby treatment" (as my brilliant friend and author, Vanessa calls it) has worked (so far, as to be clear there are still many milestones to come)!!!

We've all been pretty moved the last few days to say the least. Abby was so excited and told me she knew she was supposed to save him from the start. There's something in my eye...and in my throat. 

Saturday they started the process to get him moved out of isolation. Ollie had a really emotional day, crying a lot at the littlest things. He's like his mama...gets through the hardest things and crises and once he's on the other side of it and can relax a little, he falls apart.  Poor Daddy was spending the afternoon and night with Ollie on Saturday, so much of the emotion was his to manage. 

They got off to a rough start when Mario voiced his concern that they wanted to move him too soon and Ollie got mad saying that Daddy didn't want him to get home earlier and didn't believe he was getting well. Mario's insistence that it was the contrary and he's just being cautious fell on deaf ears. Although Mario reminded me he wasn't the one who was good with emotions, they made it through a hard day together.

Yesterday they moved Ollie back into one of the 5 regular hospital rooms on the Bone Marrow and Stem Cell Transplant Unit. He was pretty psyched to be moving, but once we did he was overwhelmed again. We spent a lot of time snuggling and trying to calm him. Nothing like mama hugs when you're feeling big feelings you can't control.

One great distraction was his Nintendo Switch. Remember when Abby and her friends raised money to buy the Switch for him at the beginning of this journey?! It feels like a lifetime ago.

He hasn't done much with the Switch since he went blind. We did a bit of research in June and found that certain games could be played by visually impaired and blind people. So we dragged it to Toronto just in case, but it's the first time he asked to try it. Daddy got him going on Super Mario Kart Deluxe 8.

Mommy found a reference online to a game called 1-2 Switch that a woman and her blind husband had a blast with, so we downloaded it yesterday and goofed around with it all afternoon! It was just what the doctor ordered! 

He can play almost all of the 28 mini games that come with it, as they're all very active virtual reality type games (like Quick Draw where you pretend you're in a wild west gun fight or Boxing which is obvious or Baseball where one person pitches and the other swings at the ball). Needless to say he was thrilled and kept saying how awesome it was that blind people like him can still play Nintendo Switch! He didn't even mind that much when Mommy won sometimes!

So dear friends of Abby who worked so hard to raise money to buy him his precious Switch, know that he is more appreciative now of your generous gift than even at the beginning. It makes him feel like a normal, cancer-free kid (which is what he is now!).

I think Air Guitar is his ultimate favourite 1-2 Switch game so far.

Ollie's body is still struggling with nausea, vomiting and diarrhea, although less so than before. Doctors say it should all resolve itself in a few days once the antibiotics are out of his system. He's also experiencing some muscle spasms, but his water retention and swelling have gone down. It's the first time in months that his ankles and legs haven't been swollen!

Abby and Ollie have been sad about not seeing each other in over a month and given Abby will be going back to Ottawa before Ollie is likely out of the hospital, they're having a hard time with the idea that it might be a total of three months of separation before we are all together again. So I have asked the Pediatric Advanced Care Team for special permission for Abby to visit her brother in hospital before she leaves for school and they have indicated that this should be possible. Like I tell the kids if you don't ask, you don't get what you need.

On the phone with Ollie the other day when he was so sad and missing her, she had tears in her eyes as she made him promise that he'd be happy because her cells were working for him and everything they'd both been through was worth it. 

Honestly when I think about everything that's happened to our family in the last ten months, it feels surreal. We were a close knit family before, but cancer and our strengthening faith that God would help us through and save our Ollie have cemented our commitment to and gratitude for each other. 

We believe that God brought Mario and I together...two headstrong, independent, resilient people to build a family. Then He sent us both a selfless and determined daughter and a courageous and tenacious son...one to ultimately save the other...and in doing so He has blessed us beyond our wildest dreams. He gave us science and brilliant doctors and nurses to help us get our son well. He has provided us with an army of people to care for and love us through all of this.

In my most desperate moments over the past year I have begged and bargained with God that if He would save my son, I would tell our story and show everyone His goodness. That I would truly be an evangelist and dedicate my life to making the world a better place and sharing His love with others. 

For those of you who may not be believers, fear not! I won't try to convert you. I think our story is speaking for itself. The things that we have overcome are too big and difficult for us not to have had Divine intervention along the way. A prayer chain around the world for Ollie with loving people of so many different faiths participating...I believe it has made a miracle happen for our family.

Our journey is far from over, but we are on the path to physical wellness and emotional healing. Stick with us because the story is not yet done. There are no guarantees in all of this, but today our son is saved and we are celebrating.

Marie "Condo"-ing

We made it back to Toronto! The journey was uneventful for the most part and we are again grateful to our brother from another mother, Vic for packing us up and following us in a van with our belongings and moving us in, all while wearing gloves and a mask.

Our condo is nice and more modern than the last one, with the added bonus of an extra bedroom. At about 1100 square feet, it's still a lot smaller than our house, but it's comfortable and a block away from the hospital, so perfect for our needs. 

Toronto is busier than it was two months ago, but still not normal. Abby seems more comfortable this time, though and choosing a condo half a block away from the old one was a good decision. Ollie didn't want to stay in the same building as last time as he had bad memories of the relapse and wanted a clean start. We'll do anything to keep him mentally healthy as we go through this next challenge.

Abby got into the unpacking, putting all of our clothes away, Marie Kondo-ing them as she went. LOL

She picked a cosy little room off of the kitchen that would likely be truly considered a den. It's central to the living area, which will be good for keeping her engaged with the family since in typical tween fashion, she often wants to be in her room alone.

She brought a few things to personalize it and we bought a few things at the dollar store to make it feel like home for her for the next few months. I remember my parents moving a lot when I was a kid (they were divorced and one liked to buy, fix up and flip houses and the other was a real estate agent), so I got really good at making my new room feel like home wherever I was. 

We've lived in our house in Ottawa for 15 years this fall and I never imagined Abby would have the experience of trying to make a new place feel like home during her childhood. She's had a lot of new experiences because of cancer. Hopefully they will make her strong and adaptable her whole life, although I pray she never needs those qualities for a challenge like this one again.

She's also gotten into fresh smoothie making daily. It helps us to stay healthy and gives her something productive to do each morning, too. They're delicious so far!

 

Ollie has had his stressful moments, but has mostly been okay. Friday's radiation planning was tough as he was being obstinate when they tried to do his CT. They do the CT on his back with his head turned and then on his stomach with his head turned. When they did his stomach he screamed and cried- saying he couldn't keep his neck turned to that side for so long. Honestly he can do it, it's just that when he becomes fearful of something or has had enough he refuses to try. 

The technicians and the coordinator, Rita, were lovely and helped us through it. He did get it done in the end, but it made me nervous as we'd decided to do the two times daily radiation without sedation to make it faster and easier for him. If he has the sedation he'll have to be NPO (no eating, only sips of clear fluids allowed) from midnight until about 5:30 pm. That's because they need 7 hours with an empty stomach before sedation and his radiation is at 7:55 am and 3:30 pm. He'll be a bear if we have to do things that way! 

He says he'll work at stretching his neck next week and try it without sedation, but if he can't, it will likely change the timeline on everything and we NEED him to get the treatment and transplant ASAP. The good news is Ollie ALWAYS gets the hard stuff done. As much as he blusters about things he doesn't like, he never gives up. 

Mario is doing alright. He's holding on to that crazy beard until Ollie gets his transplant. Superstitious. He's been calmer this time settling in to Toronto. We both feel more confident, less fearful and more determined than ever that we are getting that transplant and leaving here with a child in true recovery after an agonizing year. 

He's still working from home thanks to his organization still being closed and his boss being so understanding. Friday a kind friend and colleague of his brought the family some Roti and jerk chicken. It was delicious and a lovely change.  

 

Ollie slept a lot yesterday and that worried us. His sleep patterns have been off at night lately, though so he's pretty tired at times during the day. Thankfully having consulted with some kind parents in the UK (thanks Lisa and Julia!) who have already been through this with their kids who have the same cancer, we believe it's due to finally stopping the Dexamethasone steroids this week after 5 months on it constantly and starting on the new hydrocortisone. The hydrocortisone should help to restart his own production of a natural steroid (cortisol), but so far has given him acne, dry skin and some minor mood changes. 

Given this, yesterday was a rough day, peppered with a few bright moments. Between worrying about how much he was sleeping (always fearful that lymphoma is back in his brain and trying to take over) and the online funeral that Abby and I attended for little Malcolm, we were pretty spent by end of day. 

Before the funeral though, a sweet friend from my youth, Frances and her son drove from the Hamilton area to bring us fresh preserves and canned pears. A true taste of home. When we were here last time and I was in the hospital with Ollie when he relapsed, she sent me the most beautiful survivor story and message of hope about her incredible daughter. She told me that miracles DO happen and that her daughter was daily proof. That was what I needed to hear at that moment. A heaven sent message that helped me to keep going when I felt all was lost. 

And she was right. It's a miracle that despite the odds he got back into remission and is here to get that transplant. Miracles happen. We don't need another miracle, just stability and strength enough for him to get through transplant and get truly well. We can do this.

I think maybe she was sent to me again yesterday to bring me strength just before we attended little Malcolm's online funeral. Like informal spiritual strength being brought to me. I'm surrounded by strong mamas who have done the hardest things and got through them and so can I. 

I've never attended a child's funeral before and I pray to God that we never have to again. It was a beautiful service, but that little white casket was devastating. His parents are so strong. Especially his brave mama. But she knows she has two other children that still need her. One of them still in her belly. She feels grateful to have been his mama. Not angry (although that may rightfully come later) at him leaving too soon, but pure love at having had him for any length of time. She is so kind that on the day her son died she also wished us well in Toronto and asked us to keep her posted on transplant because she wanted to know and Malcolm loved Ollie. Mamas are the bravest warriors, soldiering on and spreading light even in their darkest moments. 

Abby insisted on watching with me. She's an empath like me and felt it deeply, especially as she knew Malcolm has an older sister who just lost her brother. I tried to comfort her, telling her little Malcolm was too little and sick to fight the tumour after battling for 7 months and that I can't believe God would make Abby the stem cell donor for her brother, make him relapse, get him well again for a second attempt at getting her stem cells and not let her save him. Then I backtracked a bit to tell her if it doesn't work it's not her fault and she's done everything she can. It's hard not to give her mixed messages right now. I can only reassure her that I feel deeply that we are on a journey to remind people what's really important in these difficult times and to share our faith for those who may need some right now.

I apologize as I don't want to make it seem like I am hijacking nor exploiting Malcolm's story or his family's pain. It's just agonizingly a part of the cancer journey and as I try to be truly honest about what it's like, I must also include the things that impact us and our mental state, even if they are part of someone else's story. You're going to know some people who don't make it despite their brave fight. When it's a child, I think it's universally understood that it's so much more tragic and how could we not be affected by this beautiful family's story?!

So last night when Ollie finally woke, refreshed and full of energy, we were so grateful and played blindfold NERF gun target shooting with sticky darts with him. The blindfold was to even the stakes for Ollie given his blindness. We played in teams and gave directions to the blind/blindfolded person to help them hit the target and get the points. Ollie was thrilled, especially since he won.

Overall we're feeling okay and resting up this week for next week's radiation and chemo. We are studying plays so we have some tricks up our sleeves when we need them and readying for the big game in which we intend to come out the victors. Please keep cheering and praying for us. It pumps us up and makes us eager for battle.

Love one another

"I give you a new commandment: Love one another as I have loved you"- John 13:34

My whole life I heard this regularly from my Grandma who was living proof of the power of this commandment. Like Jesus she always saw the good in people and truly made them want to be their best selves around her. 

She died two months before Oliver was born and she would have adored his tender heart, his big laugh and his fierce determination. All qualities that she had in abundance, although modestly she would never have seen it that way. 

She built a family unit that was strong and resilient. She supported them and her beloved husband through three brutal battles with his cancer. My grandfather was a warrior. I was just telling Oliver about how he is just like his great grandfather who lost his larynx in his first battle, but overcame that and learned to talk without it. I told Ollie losing his sight is very much like his great grandfather losing his voice, but like his great grandpa, he'll adapt and have an awesome life once we kick cancer out. 

I am thinking about all of this because my dad called me today. We've had some challenges for various reasons over the years trying to keep our relationship strong. Lately it's been hard because he's been so upset about Oliver that he couldn't talk to me. And that made me angry because I have to work through and past my agony every single moment of every day right now. Today he called and I could tell it was hard for him, but he was supportive and we really talked honestly for the first time since Ollie was diagnosed. We talked a lot about how it felt when his dad was sick and how his dad coped. How difficult it was for everyone in his family. How strong his mother was. He retold me the story of his father being upset about using an electrolarnyx to speak after his cancer.

An electrolarynx, is a medical device about the size of a small electric razor used to produce clearer speech by those people who have lost their voicebox, usually due to cancer of the larynx.

My grandfather was misunderstood and ridiculed for using it, and literally threw it out the window. So he learned to talk through a burp. Today Dad told me he remembered sitting at the kitchen table before dinner night after night practicing talking through burps with his dad until he cold hold whole conversations that way. A natural skill for a teenage boy to have and one he could help his dad with. LOL

This story made me smile. Both because of my grandfather's determination and stubbornness and that my dad told me a new part of the story that involved him helping. I think it is very painful for him to remember that time in his childhood, yet we talked about it because it's a level on which we can relate. He openly protested when I told him this, saying it's nothing like going through it with your child and I agreed, but told him that anyone who's been through cancer with someone they lived with and loved dearly can relate on some level and that's what I needed from him. For him to remember what it felt like in order for him to be able to help me with his real empathy. For him to tell me stories of hardship that they all survived and moved past. I was grateful for his call and his honesty today. It helped me a lot. Reminded me that he really comes from the amazingly kind, empathetic parents that he had. That despite his weakness he loves us and did something hard for him today to show it.

All of this is hard, but we have to go through it. No matter what. We can't hide from it or pretend it isn't happening. I take these pictures and write these often difficult posts because I need to. It's an important part of our family's history and I don't want to repress it because it is easier not to remember. I want to use this experience the rest of our lives to remember how lucky we are to know what's really important. To understand what lengths we'll go to for each other because we love one another. Just as Jesus loved and loves all of us.

Ollie had a really good day today. The drugs are already working and if he's still good tomorrow, we're going back to the condo to be "home" as a family for the long weekend. 

Ollie' s oncologists in Ottawa called me today to see how we were and to remind us that they're still here with us, working with the Sick Kids team. They agreed with me that it makes sense for us to stay here for a few weeks as we see whether the meds will do what we need and reopen the possibility of stem cell transplant. If it looks like we need to continue with the meds for significantly longer than the next month for it to make a big difference, we'll look at going back home to Ottawa to be in our own home and community. 

In the meantime, we're the squeaky wheel that will keep reminding Sick Kids that we're here and doing battle to get too transplant and won't give up until we get it. My friend Frank shared a comment on the blog today that while in the Navy he served in a ship where the motto was, "We fight as one." He suggested we use it and I think it's perfect.

So happy Holy Thursday and we wish you all a beautiful and blessed Easter, Vaisakhi, Ramadan, Puthandu or whatever you celebrate (or don't) even if it's not with your extended family or closest friends like usual. We're going to be together wherever we are and be so grateful for every moment and for your ongoing love and support. Love one another (even if it's 6 metres apart or farther).

P.S. - Our boy's smile and laugh are still lighting up the room. He wants to hear cancer survivor stories, especially kids who had it and grow up to have awesome lives after beating it. I told him a few tonight. Please share any you know with us. We're building him up so he knows he can do it, too.

Suffering and Shortcuts

*Note:

This post includes some photos of the effects of Ollie' s last, very harsh round of chemo. While I don't consider the photos gross or gruesome, I realize that some may find them upsetting and if you are one who might, I suggest you skip this post. Rest assured that his pain is being well managed and his post-chemo burns and bruises are healing. 

On Sunday Abby and I went to mass while Mario was with Ollie at CHEO.  I am always comforted by mass, but I do find the prayers of intention difficult these days as I know they'll read Ollie's name under the sick that we should pray for. I tear up every time and usually whomever I'm with (Marie-France, Maria, Claudia, etc.) does, too. Each time I pass around tissues and compose myself to get through the rest of the mass. Sometimes a song lyric makes me weepy, too. Mass is emotional for me because it is the place where I feel most that everyone around me is praying for us. Truly I know you're doing it in your own homes, too. 

On Sunday, our priest Monsignor Hans delivered a homily that felt like he was speaking directly to me. So much so that I took notes, which Abby thought was weird (I guess it was, but didn't want to forget any key messages). He talked about suffering and how there are no shortcuts through suffering. Boy can we relate to that.

Ollie got second degree burns from the adhesives on the bandaids and medical tape on his body after this round of chemo.

 He also has bruising and bed sores from his low neutrophils (still neutropenic at 0.1) and post-chemo reaction. 

Monsignor spoke of faith as a long game and how these are confusing and dark times in the world and faith is needed more now than ever. He said the way forward will be long and unknown, but that we must be open to the things that are coming. Once again it was like he was speaking about our situation specifically, even though I know he was referring to the seeming lack of faith, kindness and caring for our fellow humans in the world right now.

He also asked:

- Has my faith grown stronger/deeper in the last 10 years?

- What have I invested in my faith?

- How can I strengthen my connection to God?

- How can I connect others to the faith?

I was able to agree that in the last handful of years I have deepened and invested in my faith by participating in so many activities in the Church. And by extension I have gotten so much more back from my investment. Peace, faith, positivity, dear friends, strength, etc. That investment is what is sustaining me through this, the most difficult time of my life to-date.

And from there he went on to talk about community and evangelism explaining that it is about bringing faith to others who have lost it or never known it. This struck me as uncanny because Charity (dear friend who is also the youth minister) and I had a conversation 4 years ago about how she thought I was an evangelist for community. At the time I laughed, but recently I called and told her I now understood that she was right and I am an evangelist. Not in the Billy Graham kind of way, but rather in that here I am sharing our story that is resonating with so many following it, being honest about my faith and its role in all of this and people are responding. Here are some examples of beautiful messages I've received:

My response to each of them was that it helps me to know that if some people rekindle their faith because of our situation, then something positive is coming from this experience.

So in this time of fear and darkness in the world right now, we are now also faced with the Coronavirus and the death and fear it is leaving in its wake. It's actually affecting us directly, in fact. Don't worry, we don't have Coronavirus, but Sick Kids Hospital called me today about his stem cell transplant and given world concerns over it's spread, health organizations around the world are now recommending that all transplants with anonymous donors only happen right now if absolutely necessary. Also, the first donor couldn't be reached and the second is willing, but can't do it until late April. Sick Kids doesn't want us to wait, but feels that the best chance now is Abby. 

They said with the anti-rejection drugs today, they have done many successful half match transplants. If he does reject, given timelines and safety concerns now, the backup would be myself or Mario. 

Our funny, strong, dramatic daughter will now be the best sister ever giving her own life saving stem cells to her brother. 

 I wept quietly while talking to the Bone Marrow Transplant team. I so hoped we wouldn't have to ask this of her, but she has said from the outset that she would absolutely do it. In fact, she has prayed about it every night.

There is good news in that we did bank her cord blood and they're going to look at whether there is enough volume to use. Also, because of her blood type if they have to harvest directly from her they plan to take her blood instead of her bone marrow. They'd basically give her an injection called the G-CSF (Ollie has had this after each round of chemo to boost his production of white blood cells and neutrophils) once a day for four days, then take her blood. It immediately goes into a machine like they use for  dialysis and separates out her rich stem cells. Normally this takes a day and would be done right before his transplant.

They now want Abby in Toronto on Monday to do her work up and then we'll come back until Ollie is needed in Toronto for March 23 to prepare for his radiation to start April 1. So harvesting/transplant day is tentatively April 9. 

So many other things have happened in the last days, but all of them pale in comparison to this news. 

I want to thank the St. George School community for their generous donations to help us with expenses for our three month trip to Toronto and my brother for starting a Go Fund Me campaign to help us with expenses and covering loss of income now that I have officially applied for employment insurance for caretaker leave. People are overwhelmingly generous and we are so grateful, but also mindful that so many have already helped us enormously in so many ways. We mostly just need your continued positivity and prayers. And hugs (when you're well)! 

Cravings, Cuts and Confirmation

Yesterday Ollie had a lumbar puncture with intrathecal chemo. When he cane out of recovery he was ravenous and asked for pizza...

And...

Thankfully, friend Elliot was coming by the hospital so he kindly agreed to bring some (after I explained what they were since his body is such a temple that he's never had one!).

Ollie has had a great few days despite the fact that chemo has started again. He's not been nauseous (we're keeping the anti-nauseated flowing to be proactive) and his appetite continues to be huge. Not to share too much, but those of you with kids will appreciate that a lot of your time as a parent is spent talking about and monitoring bowel movements. Even Ollie' s BM's have improved the last few days! 😀 💩

We've been making a lot of lists...his oncologist was very impressed that the blind boy with lymphoma on chemo was writing lists. She couldn't get over his determination, although as she acknowledged, she has seen nothing but that from him for the last 44 days. 

 

Mario stayed with Ollie last night so Abby and I could get haircuts. We were way overdue and since Abby's confirmation was tonight and I needed one before Toronto, my long-time stylist and friend, Sonia and Abby's stylist, Thwe from Maison Noi treated us. We looked and felt great (which is saying a lot right now!) and hit so many nice compliments on our hair today!

Also this afternoon, while the boys were having a good day in hospital with lots of playtime despite Ollie needing another blood transfusion, Abby and I had a fun afternoon of manicures and pedicures with dear friends Julie, Jenna add Mackenzie. 

Tonight Abby had her confirmation. In the Catholic Church, this is an important rite of passage where kids become real needs of the Church because they choose to be versus simply because their parents want them to be there. As I've mentioned before, Abby has really embraced her faith this year, maybe in part because of everything happening to her brother. 

In my darkest moments my faith has been such a comfort to me and reminds me that I am loved and can get through anything with God's help. I can't imagine trying to get through this without faith in a higher power. 

I was also so happy to sponsor Abby's friend Ines for confirmation. Bishop Prendergast was saying tonight that when we teach youth our faith, we by extension are practicing and even strengthening ours. I am thankful for Ines (and Cristina and Fernando) as well as Charity, my dear friend, "God sister" and our youth minister for allowing me to help them with confirmation this year before Ollie's diagnosis. While I am sad that I missed some of our Alpha parent prep sessions as a facilitator due to our situation, I am so happy to have had the opportunity to deepen my faith with other parents in our community.

We also have big love for Julie who agreed to be Abby's sponsor since her godmother Gladys is living in California and could not be here. Julie has always loved my kids so much and is always there for them no matter what. This mama is proud to have her in our village.

So that was our busy weekend so far! 

Tomorrow morning at 9 am, Ollie had his next lumbar puncture with intrathecal chemo, so I'll be back to CHEO early. Wishing you all a blessed and restful Sunday! 

Winning battles one lumbar puncture at a time...

It was another decent day. Ollie woke talking and wanting to snuggle and be reassured about his lack of vision. I told him that he can't see because there is a war going on inside of his head, neck and spine where the chemo warriors are trying to blast out the lymphoma cells. Many battles are being fought, and one of them happened near his eyes, causing him to lose his vision. 

We know that there are fewer and fewer lymphoma cells in there (down to 16 in the cerebrospinal fluid today compared to 900 a week ago!!!), so we're winning the war, but have a few more battles to win first. Hopefully when we've won, his sight will come back. If not, we have started to tell him about people who live full lives who are vision challenged (Maja if you are reading this you are an awesome example that I share) to show him that life goes on and is full even if you can't see. 

In fact, the doctor wants him to start working with rehab both to get his strength and muscle tone back after over two weeks in bed, but also to start to learn how to navigate the world without the use of his eyes, just in case. We haven't given up trying other options, but in the meantime he needs to live his life, so we need to equip him to keep moving forward with or without sight.

His lumbar puncture went well this morning. In addition to the lower cell count, the pressure of his cerebrospinal fluid was normal! This explains his lack of significant pain the last two days. In fact, the nurses in the OR told me after his procedure that he was like a different kid from a week ago because this time he was lucid and had no pain.  

His oncologist met with me today to discuss the revised treatment plan in light of the fact that we're also doing the inter-thecal in his spine now. The new protocol calls for him to have different chemo drugs on different days for two weeks in a row. It started yesterday, so that means we'll be in hospital continuously for at least a month and very possibly more once we know the stem cell transplant plan when he have a confirmed donor. Ollie will not be happy about this, so it's something I can't tell him right away. To keep his morale up, we have decided to take things one day at a time and not look too far into the future right now. As a planner this is difficult for me, but necessary to manage his expectations and stress. His anxiety is much less now than a week ago and we want to try and keep things calm for him.

He slept a lot today, but after his procedure, I tried to start getting him interested in more tactile things today like stretchable putty, little toys he can feel and explore with his hands, smelly toys, etc. Mrs. Hatoum (Toni) also came by to bring him a few more to help including a squishy pooping llama, which he was delighted with! 

Our priest, Monsignor Hans came by for a visit today. He was very pleased with the way the prayer service went yesterday at school and acknowledged that it was likely the most spiritually engaged and reverent he has ever seen the kids and staff at St. George. Clearly even he was moved by the event. He said a special prayer over Ollie as he slept and Toni and I prayed, too. I feel very blessed to have him as a spiritual support and he has been a

comfort to my family.

Tonight Mario and I switched so that each of us could spend time with the other kid and I could get a break from the hospital. We had hoped that Abby could visit her brother, but she was at the pediatric clinic today for the tail end of a virus that she needs to ride out. So we masked up, snuggled the cat (who really misses me), ordered in, watched a movie, ate ice cream (thanks to principal Mrs. Philippe for the treat to help Abby and all of us feel better this week) and now we're in bed.

Hope you have had a cozy and warm evening with those you love, too!

Hail Mary and Learning About Lymphoma

This little dabbing elf is home and doing really well as we rest and wait for round 2.

It has been a quiet and uneventful few days. We had a quick visit to CHEO Friday followed by a dash in to Walmart with Ollie wearing mask and gloves to avoid exposure to viruses. All so he could be a normal kid and choose a few new Beyblades with Christmas money received. This is our new reality. We are unable to take him into highly populated public places where he might get a minor cold or flu bug that for anyone else would be uncomfortable, but for him could land him in a serious illness with isolation in hospital because the chemo is killing his immune system. So many kind friends have offered to bring their little ones over to play and it breaks my heart to have to explain that we can't risk the exposure to kids we all love and miss playing with. Please don't forget about us, because Ollie will be back to play as soon as cancer has been kicked out. To this 

end, his teacher Mrs. Didiomete kindly pointed out to him in a recent online video chat with the class that he is still part of the class and they have kept his desk there to remind them everyday. My eyes are leaking...😭

So for the meantime we are trying to make some new friends at the hospital who are in the same situation and through activities such as Kids Kicking Cancer, a martial arts program for kids with cancer, which Ollie is eager to try this week. 

Abby is dealing pretty well, but has found it tough sometimes to explain to kids that cancer doesn't automatically mean that her brother is dying. The kids are empathetic, very well meaning and truthful about their thoughts, not realizing how tough that might be for her to hear. Fortunately, our Interlink.Nurse from CHEO went into the school today to Abby and Ollie's classes to talk about lymphoma and to allow kids to ask their questions. He explained that Ollie's cancer is highly treatable and he is expected to come back next year and what friends can do to help keep Abby and by extension Ollie safe as he goes through treatments.

It takes me back to Abby's grade 1 class where another St. G family (whom we are grateful to know) had done the same when their son had leukemia and Abby was in his sister's class. It was the first I had heard of their battle and it touched me deeply. This family bravely fought and won their battle with leukemia and have been supportive of us on our journey. I remember asking the mom after they kicked it how you do it when it's your child and she told me you just do because there is no other option and you find strength you never thought you had. She was totally right. They give us hope and understanding at a time when we are often unsure and we are very grateful to them.

I am also learning a lot about Lymphoma. I never imagined I'd be so interested in blood counts, test results and medical procedures. Change forces us to learn new things and grow in ways we never expected. 

Last night Abby's choir sang in an Advent Caroling event that our parish puts on. 

The St. G Performance Choir (including Abby) in the Advent Caroling event at St. G church.

Abby made her debut doing a reading at church. As I sat there watching her read I was so proud of her and then overwhelmed with emotion that she is handling everything with such grace publicly for one so young. She has had her completely justified moments melting down over all of this, but mostly she's just stepped up to be a better sister and daughter over the last weeks. 

All of the readings were about the coming of Jesus at Christmas. Naturally, Mary as his mother features heavily in these stories. I've never felt so drawn to her as I have in recent weeks. Even as a person of faith I marvel that she agreed to bear God's son, knowing full well that He was the savior and would one day be sacrificed to save the world from sin. 

I have prayed to Mary as a mother in these last weeks, asking her to give me strength to bear all of this. One night after Ollie's bone marrow puncture when he was in a lot of pain, Mario (who believes, but is not very religious) even suggested we all.pray the Hail Mary together and she carried us all through the pain. She is sending me her strength in ways I never imagined. I know in my heart that God is good and will save my son with the help of medicine. I have faith that He loves me and understands that as a mother I cannot accept anything other than a full recovery and a beautiful life for him after this. This feels like a test for all of us, but fortunately I've always been an excellent student and aced tests and I'm not about to fail now. 😁 

Mario is stoic as always. He has moments of emotion when friends make overwhelmingly kind and unexpected gestures to help our family. He is the strongest teddy bear around. 

Overall we are all doing pretty well, all things considered. We're resting up and trying to enjoy every moment of being home together to help us get through the next round. Thanks for your continued thoughts and prayers.