December 9, 2022

Dear Ravi,

I hope you do not remember this date, though it is thoroughly etched in my mind. It was the second week in Advent. The night before I was getting you ready to bed. Daddy and I noticed an odd lump on your left arm. We wondered it it was trauma from the seizure you had had the night before. I took you into the pediatrician the next morning. She too,was puzzled, but ran an X ray. She could not tell what it was, but said she would send the pictures to the University. I had meant to drop you off at school, but you did not seem to be feeling so well, so we headed home. You spent most of the day chatting with Sam and lounging with me. Hours passed. It was late on a Friday afternoon and I was not expecting the hear anything from the clinic until Monday. I went to take the trash out. As I was outside my phone rang. It was your pediatrician. She asked if I were home. I said that I was. Her next words took my breath away; she said that you had cancer. I dropped the bag of garbage at my feet and just tried to breathe. The world seemed to have tilted on its axis. I put the garbage in the can and headed into the house. She suggested that Daddy and I take you to the ER for some scans. She recommended Children’s Masonic Hospital on Riverside. She talked softly to me but her words did not make any sense. I went inside, gave you a hug and called Alissa and Daddy. She came over immediately. Daddy came soon after. We felt as if we had dropped into the Twilight Zone.

We did take you to the ER that night. The doctor confirmed that you indeed had cancer, but did not know what kind, but would be putting in orders that night. That weekend passed in a blur. I sent you to school on Monday because we had not heard anything. Tuesday afternoon my phone started ringing and things happened very quickly. Within 48 hours we met your oncologist Dr. Greengard and the your team. A biopsy was scheduled for later that week. Chemo was scheduled to begin December 26. Thus began our 22 month journey into osteosarcoma.

My love, I hope you do not remember December 9. We will never forget it. I want you to know how incredibly strong and brave you were throughout the next 22 months. You never felt sorry for yourself. You never stopped fighting. I know you are in heaven with both Dave Coyne and Dave Evans, but Advent and Christmas will never be the same. It is cold today and about to snow. I am about to leave for work. I just wanted to drop you a note. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.