For some reason, I am drawn to this picture. I can relate. It's not the Mary Poppins likeness so much (I am by far the opposite of Mary Poppins) but I like the idea of letting go and trusting a whimsical umbrella. An umbrella can't really hold me up in a storm of bad news, it can't even protect me from the rain if the storm is bad enough, but still it is comforting to have one in the trunk of my car at all times. I like this picture because it makes me think of an uplifting sunshower instead of a dreaded downpour. The best kind of rain is when you can dance in the puddles while the sun is still shining. The kind that ends in rainbows (and you all know how I feel about rainbows, there isn't a more beautiful or fitting symbol of hope).
Ty continues to do well on his new chemotherapy regimen. I am starting to get anxious for his next scan, which is scheduled for November 8th. I feel it creeping up on me, breathing down my neck ever so slightly. I am confident that the results will show no signs of progression because Ty continues to improve in every way, but how can I not be scared? As you all know, we have been knocked down so many times over the past year (click here for Ty's year in review youtube video), even during the times when we were the most positive. Even when there was no doubt in my mind that everything was okay, things weren't okay. But this time, things are different because Ty's most recent scan showed "no evidence of disease" for the first time ever. That's why this is so different. Ty's tumor was so aggressive, that it broke through even the strongest chemotherapy in the past. It was always doing "something" on his scans. Now, it is gone. DEAD! At night, I envision any existing cancer cells left in his brain exploding. Like a video game where I can will them into complete oblivion. Die, cancer, die! Never, ever, ever, ever, ever come back you disgusting disease. LEAVE HIM ALONE!
I believe with all of my heart and soul that it is the love, the positive thoughts, the acts of kindness and the prayers that have been sent his way that have made this happen for Ty. And, of course, his individual strength and unwavering will to beat this.
Ty had his bloodwork done less than a week ago and it showed he is still strong enough to be out in public, so Ty continues to go to preschool. Today was his fourth time there, and he was cuter than ever. Sometimes I am overly paranoid because he gets so sidetracked and I worry that the long term effects of radiation to his brain are already beginning to show (like when the teacher is talking about the weather and Ty interrupts her, pratically yelling across the room, to tell her something nonsensical about his favorite TV show). It's silly, I know, all kids to this. I am happy he gets excited and wants to share with his classmates so I let it roll off my shoulders for the most part. But I can't ignore that gnawing worry that it could be more serious down the road.
You know, as I'm writing this I'm reminding myself that I sound ridiculous. He is here when he wasn't expected to survive his cancer more than six months. He is here and has no evidence of disease, which we were told wasn't possible. Who cares if he has a little trouble focusing at school, if he has permanant hair loss, if his scars don't heal well or if his grown up teeth don't develop properly (as his dentist warned me yesterday). Seriously. Who cares! As long as my baby stays here with us. As long as my SuperTy continues to beat the odds and beat up his cancer... then we can conquer anything else that lies ahead. Oh... what a life he will lead. I just know it!