We just received all of the results from Ethan’s November MRI and all is good!  We had to stay in suspense over his blood work for an extra week or so, but it worked out just fine. 

We were also delighted to get a fantastic anesthesiologist this time around.  I gave the same spiel that I always do, begging for propofol and warning of Ethan’s poor tolerance for civa.  Once he was asleep, I also asked if he could be given some IV Kytril as an antimedic - and the Anesthesiologist asked why…  I explained again about Ethan’s bad reactions and he said “but I’m only going to give him propofol like you asked”.  Sadly, I was shocked and had to explain that I ALWAYS ask, but have only had one other Anesthesiologist who actually listened!!  Anyway, Ethan only had propofol, woke up well, and we had a fantastic day afterwards. 

We also got some sad news that day… Jerome, who has been our MRI technician for almost 4 years, is moving to North Carolina to care for his ill mother.  He greeted Ethan with a fire truck and me with flowers.  For someone we only see 3-4 times a year, I felt incredibly sad to say goodbye to him.  MRIs cause Ethan so much anxiety and fear that it has always been comforting to have Jermone there with both of us.  I will miss him a lot, as will Ethan. 

And on an even sadder note, we lost a very dear friend at the end of the summer.  Our friends Greg and Lori had their son diagnosed with Lymphoma shortly after Ethan ended his treatment.  Ryan sailed through treatment, only to relapse 3 weeks before he was scheduled to end.  He continued to relapse several more times before he could get in to his bone marrow transplant at Duke.  When he was a month shy of the 100 day post-transplant mark (without significant incident), he sadly relapsed again.  Ryan lost his battle August 24 and it was sheer agony for everyone who loved Ryan and his family.  The only remotely bright spot I can remember about that day was spending time alone with his little brother, Evan, in the courtyard of the hospital’s playroom.  Evan was just 20 months old and was as delightful as you can imagine, blissfully unaware that his family was enduring the worst day of their lives next door in the PICU.  He ran from car to car, and from ball to ball, and asked me about 100 time to lift him up over my head, where I was treated to the biggest belly laugh I could imagine under the circumstances.  It brought tears to my eyes – and still does when I think about it. 

Our family, as well as the Fontanillas, returned from our vacation in the outer banks the following week to say our final goodbye to Ryan as he was laid to rest in Fairfax with his Grandparents that he never met.  It’s incredibly painful to imagine what Greg and Lori must be going through.  It also strikes so close to home and reminds us that every day is a gift, and that any of our lives can again turn upside down in a moment for any number of reasons...  We enter the holiday season with Greg and Lori, as well as all of the other cancer families we know, close to our hearts and hope you will do the same. 

Regards,

Kim.