Author: snort262

To all our friends, we at the Herndon household (or the Herndon herd as we are sometimes called) are delighted to wish you a joyous Spring, a blessed Passover, a peaceful Ramadan, a happy Easter. I know there are so many religions and sects that I have omitted, but we wish you all a joyous season, a season of peace, rest, and renewal.

This has been a tough week for Ravi. Chemo has laid him low, but amazingly his labs look good. His creatinine level is better than it has been in months. This gives us hope that his kidney injury was acute rather than chronic. He has not needed transfusions or extra fluids. We wish he would take in extra calories, but he is doing an excellent job keeping himself hydrated. This week is his week off from chemo and we hope he can gain some extra ground. Next week begins cycle 6 of 8 for chemo. We hope and pray that we can put chemo in the rear-view mirror by the end of May. Somehow, it is easier to be hopeful in th spring. The snow is melting. Brave little crocus are poking their heads up. Birds are singing and twirling through the skies, singing and looking for mates. Two sparrows are building a nest under our eaves outside the kitchen window. Nikki, our cat, spends hours sitting on the back of my reading chair watching them. He thinks that this is the best prime time TV ever.

So, why am I writing at 4 in the morning? Because this seems to be when my muse kicks into high gear. It may also be because the cat is having his 4am zoomies around the house and decided that since he and can’t sleep, neither can the dogs! I imagine, 2000 years ago, that Mary and Mary Magdalene were also awake, mourning their Lord. They were waiting for daylight so they could go anoint his broken body. Instead, they would find an empty tomb and were given instructions not to seek the living among the dead, but to go and tell the disciples what they had seen. I love that the Risen Christ first appeared to women. They were the last to hold his broken body, they were the first to see and proclaim the resurrection. In a few hours, I will leave for early church. In the meantime, in the darkness, I wait, as Kirkegaard said, “in fear and trembling”. But the sun will come up. Tulips will push up through the dark earth. The bunnies will eat my hostas. The squirrels will dig up my petunias. Spring and new life is on the way.

Thank you to all who follow us. May you have a blessed, amazing, surprising week. Be good humans. Peace, Harriet.

Good morning, friends. Currently, we are hunkering down in the Twin Cities waiting for a massive snowfall. It is supposed to snow, then rain, then snow again. Ravi and I are predicting a big mess.

In the last few months I have been working on a new endeavor, turning this blog into a book! I have hired a wonderful editor, Abbey, who is helping me make sense of seven years of memories. I just got the latest batch of work back from her and it was a bittersweet journey down memory lane. So much has happened in the last four years. Covid, George Floyd, riots, presidential elections. Though I mostly write about Ravi, I also write about current events and how he responds to them. I remember how sad he was when schools were shut down due to Covid. I remember how thrilled he was with his unique “drive by” graduation from high school. As I worked my way through these memories, the diaries grew closer and closer to December 2022, when Ravi was diagnosed with cancer. These entries seemed so hopeful. Our little family had no idea what was going to happen on December 9, 2022. If this blog were a movie, there would be ominous music playing in the background. There would be some sort of foreshadowing that would let the reader, or the viewer know that something bad was about to happen. But there was no music. This is not a movie; this is just a blog. A blog I hope to turn into a book.

I had no idea going back and rereading the entries leading up to December 2022 would be so hard. I am waiting for the next batch of edited entries from Abbey. I assume that these ones will be even harder to read as we plunge into the depths of Ravi’s illness. I want to thank my readers for sticking with us in the good times and in the hard times. We feel your strength and your love for Ravi. We feel your prayers and good vibes. We deeply appreciate you.

On a brighter note, Ravi is the ambassador for St. Baldrick’s this month. St Baldrick’s is at the front of the fight against childhood cancer. If you check out my Facebook page there is a cute picture of Ravi (with hair) and a nice write up about him. Did you know that the American Cancer Society uses less than 3% of their funds to fight childhood cancers? Less research is done on pediatric cancers because they are rare. Media is dominated by stories about breast cancer and prostate cancer. This is all well and good, but I wish media would shine a brighter light on the children I see multiple times a week at Journey Clinic. The children who are fighting such big battles in their little bodies. The bald children, the sick children, the children with ports and g tubes that keep them alive. Research needs to help these children. 3% of the budget is not nearly enough. Ravi and his fellow pediatric patients deserve more.

This is not one of my more upbeat blogs. It has been a strange trip down memory lane as I edit 7 years of memories. If I were to assign music to this period of our lives, I am not certain what type of music I would choose. There has been too much ominous music of late. I am hoping for something happier and more upbeat. Ravi has his 5th cycle of chemo. There are 8 cycles. Somewhere in there will also be surgery and radiation. Right now, we are just focusing on getting through the chemo and hopefully ending that chapter of his illness. We are looking forward to granting Ravi his wish, to go see the ocean. we are looking forward to spring, Easter, resurrection. We are looking forward to warm days where Ravi can go for walks and ride his adaptive bike.

The wind is picking up and the snow if moving in. Spring is not here yet. If I had a soundtrack for today, the music would be contemplative. Not happy, not sad, just contemplative, as we wait for spring and new life. Thank you for joining us on our journey. Be good people and we will be in touch. Peace.

Hi there, my muse seems to have gone missing. Has anyone seen her? She usually wakes me up around 4am with something to write. The last two times she has woken me up, frozen, developed writer’s block, and has had nothing to say. Muse where have you gone? It is now 3:30 on a Tuesday afternoon and I am still looking for her. Where do I start? I guess I start with what I know, so here goes.

In my last blog I talked about getting up really early in the morning for a PET scan at Mayo. The scan itself was unremarkable, it did not show anything new. The devastating news was that after Dr. R, the surgeon whom I hoped would take Ravi’s case, saw the scan, she determined that her team either would not or could not do the surgery. Our oncologist, Dr Greengard, was just as baffled as we were, but continued to make plans. She gave us a referral to a surgeon that she trusts at Children’s whom we see in 2 weeks. She also wanted Ravi to have a GFR test to see what his renal function is currently. He spent a long weekend in the hospital, early this month, because his creatinine was too high and his phosphorous levels were too low. These problems were resolved after a few days and he was sent home, but it did delay cycle 5 of chemo by a week.

Yesterday was an 8 hour day at the hospital. The GFR test began at 7:45 am and went for 4 hours. Chemo followed this. Ravi’s creatinine was a bit high, so he was given fluids prior to the start of the chemotherapy. He did well through the transfusion and was sent home without issue. I received the results of the GFR test last night, though the team has not seen them yet or commented. With GRF, the higher the number, the better. A good working pair of kidneys would have a GFR of around 90. Ravi’s GFR was 66. On the other hand, his GFR from October was 59. This tells me that his kidneys have made some improvement and he is not in imminent danger of renal failure. Since no one from the team has called me, I am not too worried. If there was a problem, they would have touched base. I assume we will learn more at our Thursday appointment.

Ravi has begun cycle 5 of 8 cycles of chemo. Hopefully, he will be done with chemo by the end of May. I keep telling him that this weird life of practically living in the hospital is not forever. He will not receive chemo forever. With the grace of God, he will be able to go to his day program in the fall. He will have a life and friends again. I don’t think he believes me. Right now, he is off at Culvers with his dad and Peter. He was tired this morning but seemed willing to leave the house a few minutes ago. It is a sunny day and a good day to be out. So, this leaves me here with my pets and my computer, trying to summon my muse. I still feel like I am thinking and writing through a pool of molasses. Maybe my muse is just perpetually sleep deprived. Thank you all for the continuing love and support. I remind Ravi that he is not alone. He has an entire team praying for him and cheering him on. As we are about to enter Holy Week, I remind myself that one must journey through Good Friday in order to reach the Resurrection. In the meantime, be good humans and we will be in touch.

Hello, friends. It has been a long week. Currently, it is nearly 3am on a Sunday morning and Mr. Boo is still going strong. We are not certain why he is still up. He is not hungry, he does not seem to be in any pain, he is not particularly agitated, he is just….. awake. Currently, he is watching PBS kids and stimming happily. I am drinking coffee and trying to keep my eyes open. I got a few hours of sleep earlier, and then tag teamed with Robert so he could get some shut eye.

So, where to start? As I told you in our last blog, the PET scan looked good and Dr. Greengard was pleased. She reached out to Dr. R at Mayo to see if she would do ablations on the nodules in Ravi’s lungs. We had a zoom conference with her on Tuesday morning. She was cautiously optimistic. She thought Ravi’s lungs looked better but wanted to have a CT scan done to have another look. She said she would order the scan and someone at Mayo would be in touch. Wednesday afternoon I got the call from Mayo. They wanted to see Ravi immediately. Could we be in Rochester for a 6:30 am scan the next day? The lady said that the next possible opening was not until April. I felt a quick push from the Almighty and agreed that we would be there on the following day. Basically, when Mayo calls, one comes. As a friend said, it is quality care, but not always convenient.

On Thursday, we got up at 4am. We were out of the house at 5am. We arrived in Rochester at 6:30. The check in process was easy and the lobby was not yet busy. We were quickly ushered into the back and Ravi was changed and given some Versed, to take the edge off. He seemed perfectly relaxed, but we never turn down Versed. I walked, he rolled, into the scan room, was given another light sedative, and was out for the count. I went and joined Robert in the waiting area. The lobby was busier now. A volunteer was giving people hand massages. She was working with the couple next to us, chatting softly, when the nurse came to find us. I was eager to follow the nurse, but I would have not said no to a massage. When we got into Recovery, Ravi was just starting to wake up. His team had not had to use much sedative, so he woke up much more quickly than usual. He was under a mound of blankets. I slipped Sam to him, and he promptly told he that he wanted a cheeseburger. No surprise. Poor kid had been up since 4am and had not eaten. As soon as humanly possible we got him dressed, up, and out. There is a Culver’s on the way out of town, so we stopped and got him a double butter burger with cheese and extra pickles and onions. He happily devoured it, and we got back in the car, heading for Minneapolis and the Journey Clinic. We left Rochester about 10:40 am and arrived at the clinic around noon. Robert parked the car while I checked Ravi in. Labs took a long time to come back. Ravi’s hemoglobin was at a 7, which meant he needed a blood transfusion. This surprised me. I can usually tell by looking at him if he needs fluids, platelets or blood. Today was different. His color looked good, and he had plenty of energy. We sat back to wait for the blood to come up from the blood bank while Ravi happily munched his way through a pile of snacks.

At some point I looked across the room and realized that my spouse was sound asleep. He is not a morning person and he had done all the driving. I knew we would be at the clinic for at least another 2 hours, so I suggested that he go home, let the dogs out and take a nap. He agreed that this was a good idea and shuffled out the door. Ravi’s transfusion came up from the blood bank and we settled in for the next 2 hours. The transfusion was uneventful. His blood pressure and temperature stayed exactly where they should and as long as he had Sam and snacks, he was perfectly content. Eventually, all the blood drained out of the bag and into my kid. His port was heparin locked and de accessed. I called Robert to come pick us up and we headed downstairs.

After a stop by Wendy’s for another double cheeseburger, we finally arrived home, around 6pm. We had been on the move since 4 that morning. Ravi’s friend Peter came over to say hi and I was in bed before 8pm. I slept for nearly 12 hours, and it was wonderful. Friday was just a lazy day, hanging around the house. I b0ught new running shoes, tested them out, and met some dear friends for dinner. Yesterday, I broke the shoes in some more with a 10-mile trail run. I had visions of an early bedtime with lots of sleep, but Ravi had other ideas.

We have not yet heard from Mayo about next plan of care. Dr. Greengard said that the CT scan looked good and, in her opinion, Ravi should be a good candidate for ablation. This would be more like doing a biopsy, than a traditional lung surgery. We do not know how long the recovery time is, but are hopeful that it is shorter than the recovery time from a more traditional approach to lung surgery.

So, here we are. It is nearly 3:30 in the morning and Ravi is still going strong. The dogs and cat finally went to sleep. I wish that Ravi would follow their example. Something tells me that I am not going to make it to early church in the morning. Thank you to everyone who reached out with encouragement during our long day. Thank you to Penny who came over to play with my pets and then organized my kitchen and pantry. You all are the best. I will update this blog as soon as we know what the next plans are for Mr. Boo. Until then, be good humans and we will be in touch.

Hello, friends. In the past week, Ravi has rediscovered his love of food! For the past year, he has primarily gotten his nutrients via a g- tube . He has never registered any complaint about this, in fact, was quite compliant about getting his feeds. This all ended last weekend. I hooked him up to his pump and he curled up on the bed with Sam and a favorite blanket. Suddenly, he sat up, unhooked the tube (causing formula to cascade all over the bed) and headed for the kitchen. I turned up the pump and followed him. He made a beeline for the refrigerator and began pulling out food and eating with gusto. We were more than bit amazed, but very happy . In the past week he has let us know exactly what he wants to eat and this includes: lots of yogurt and ice cream, meats of all sorts, cheeses, candy, and Gatorade. Last night he discovered that he likes gyros. Robert and I are ecstatic. Ravi’s color looks good, he is slowly gaining weight, and he has more energy. Chemo still really hits him hard, but he is able to work through it, with some long naps thrown in for good measure. I am totally in awe of cancer patients who are able to work during treatment. I don’t know how you do it, but my hat is off to you. Chemo is a harsh mistress.

So, what is next? Right now, knock on wood, we are in a period of calm. This is the first time in 14 months that we have not been in acute crisis. Ravi just finished cycle 3 or either 6 or 8 cycles of chemo. He has a PET scan scheduled for February 15. This is always a source of great anxiety for us, as one never knows what a scan will show, but we are trying to live in the minute, and right now these minutes are filled with joy.

Ravi is especially happy because he is now getting OT, PT, and SLP. He had his first speech session a few days ago and really liked the speech therapist. We set some goals for him, and we all chatted for a bit. I have a good feeling about that. Clearly, she was on his wavelength. Ravi was so happy after that appointment. We are looking forward to his next session. 

We are tentatively making plans for Ravi’s wish trip. In late spring or early summer, we hope to take a train back east, visit my cousin Paul in CT, and take some day trips to the ocean. We are very excited for Ravi to see the ocean and hopefully dabble his toes in the water. 

So, for now, we are in a good place. I hope I don’t jinx it by talking about it. Ravi is happy. We are at home. He is eating and thriving. We are keeping Subway, Taco Bell and the Greek take out place in business. Be good humans and we will be in touch. Peace, Harriet.

Suddenly, we are three weeks into January. How did this happen? One day at a time, I guess. Ravi has been doing well. He had a week in the hospital in early January due to an infection but is now home and thriving. He is enjoying both PT and OT. The OT assessment was eye opening for me. I thought that he had lost a lot of his activity of daily living skills and had gradually taken them over for him after his surgery. It turns out that these skills were not gone, just lying dormant. To my surprise, Ravi is perfectly capable of taking on and off his socks and shoes, washing, soaping, rinsing, and drying his hands, working with putty, and picking small beads up out of putty with his left hand and fingers. It seems he was just waiting for someone to remind him that he still has these skills and was waiting for a prompt or some encouragement. The OT, Katie, was wonderful, and thought that he only needed to come in once a week for about 3 months and he would be all caught up. Ravi seemed very proud of his accomplishments. He continues to love and be frustrated by PT but is always happy when handed a basketball. Next week he begins speech. He is making meaningful communication with his AAC, Sam, and I am eager to see what he can do with extra guidance. 

January is my birth month and I wanted to do something special for our cancer community. St. Baldrick’s is a 501 C3 that raises money for pediatric cancer research. In lieu of presents, I asked friends and families to donate to them, setting a goal to raise $500. I have no background in fundraising at all, so this was done on a wing and prayer. I posted a recent picture of Ravi on social media and a brief description about why we were raising money. To my absolute delight Ravi’s followers came through for him. In less than a week we raised over $500. Friends, thank you so much. We are ecstatic and humbled. You are helping us put cancer research in the front seat and cancer cells in the rear-view mirror. 

Currently, we are in cycle 3 of either 6 or 8 cycles of chemo. Ravi is tolerating it well. It makes him tired and has him craving all sorts of interesting foods, but he is powering through. A nap now and then never hurts. His schedule is packed. He is now being followed by wound care and Infectious Disease. In addition to chemo and labs, he also has PT, OT, and SLP. This means many hours at the hospital, but we sleep in our own beds at night. The PT, OT and SLP gives him something fun and challenging to look forward to, as well as boosting his skills. Shout out to my ever-patient spouse, Robert, for keeping track of the copious amounts of medications Ravi has to take. At last count, I think he is on 9 different medications, taken at various times throughout the day. When he is not cutting up, grinding, or measuring medications, Robert is often found driving Ravi to his many appointments. It takes two of us to get Ravi to the hospital, get him to his appointments on time, and find a parking place. As the nurses are fond of saying, “Teamwork is dream work”, and I could not do this journey alone. Robert, my love, thank you.

It is 5:12 am. I have no idea why I am up. My muse strikes at unusual times. On the other hand, I cherish the quiet early morning hours, when it is just me, my pets, coffee, and my thoughts. Friends, thank you again for your prayers, good energy, food, love, and financial contributions to St. Baldrick’s. We are humbled and grateful. It is good to know that we are not on this journey alone. Be good humans and we will be in touch. Peace, Harriet.

#TeamRavi is back! We just spent 8 days inpatient and are very happy to be home. Two Fridays ago we checked into Journey Clinic for a routine check up. Vitals were good but Ravi’s white blood cell count was very high, indicating an infection. Also, the wound on his shoulder was not healing. On the counsel of our wise nurse, we checked into the hospital. Unlike other hospitalizations , this one was not fraught with panic or sheer terror . This was just a maintenance visit to get an infection under control. No chemo was given so Ravi felt pretty good. He was on 8 days of IV antibiotics and had wound care following him, but he did not feel sick at all. While we were in the hospital, Loaner Sam, his loaner AAC came from the company. Ravi had spent all of Christmas season mute, as Sam had sadly developed a problem with his charger. As soon as we got Loaner Sam I rushed the device to the hospital. Ravi was over the moon happy. He began talking and babbling immediately. After that, the visit was easy. He had Sam, he had his iPad, he had lots of nice nurses checking on him, and he felt good enough to do lots laps around floor 5. Friends and therapy dogs came to visit. For someone who was stuck in the hospital, he was being a very good sport about it. Robert and I flipflopped as to who would stay with him overnight and who would go home to take care of the animals. During the day all three of us were together at the hospital. Yesterday, I learned how to administer wound care and we were set free in the world, told we did not have to come back for at least two days. We were delighted. Ravi had other things in mind.

We arrived home on the coldest day of the year. I do not think it got above zero, yesterday. As I am writing this, it is minus 8F outside, but feels like minus 30. The high today is supposed to be an even zero. Even though I consider myself a hardy midwesterner, I think I will not run outside until the mercury rises above 10 F and the sun comes out. Once home, Ravi happy curled up on his bed and took a long nap with Robert. I did some laundry and caught up on some correspondence. We ordered in dinner but Ravi was still sleeping. Around 8pm I went in to check on him and hook up his G tube for another feed. Imagine my surprise when I saw that the G tube was no longer attached to his body! Ravi was not at all disturbed, but I was! I did a quick all to the resident oncologist on call. She laughed and asked if we hadn’t just left the hospital that afternoon? I sheepishly admitted that we had but were now in need of more assistance. She said that we would need to go the ER and she would call ahead.

Twenty-five minutes later found us at the ER. To our surprise and delight, there was parking right outside the door and virtually no wait. We were seen by a nurse immediately and by an ER doctor only a few minutes after that. The G tube hole had not had time to close, so it was just a matter of finding another G tube that would fit. This took a little while. Many G tube users are little kids and it took some looking around to find a larger one. A larger G tube was eventually tracked down in the OR, was inserted with no fuss whatsoever, and we were sent on our way. We made it home before midnight, tired and relieved. It took another 2 hours to get enough feeds and all of his meds into Ravi. Before the last feed ended, he had fallen into a deep sleep. It was a busy day!

I am not certain what the next week will bring. Hopefully, we can just stay home today, stay warm and cuddle our pets. Monday, we check into the Journey Clinic. I do not know if he will receive chemo or not. Tuesday, he has his beloved PT and then an appointment with neurology at a different hospital. Thursday, we are back Journey Clinic for labs and a check in.

So…. we are okay. Thank you for everyone who checked in on us, brought us food or let our dogs out for a respite in the back yard.  We were not planning on spending the last 8 days inpatient, but there you go. Ravi was well taken care of and this stay did not produce any trauma. He was well taken care of, as always, and did not feel acutely ill. So, stay warm. Cuddle your pets. Be good humans, and we will be in touch. Peace.

Today marks one year since Ravi began chemo. On December 26, 2022, he had a hearing test and an operation to put in his port. (It would turn out to be the first of three ports) On December 27 we checked into the hospital for him to get his first round of Cisplatin. We were discharged on December 29 and had no idea what the coming year would hold. I don’t remember much about those early cancer days. My impression was that it always seemed to be the middle of the night and we were very scared. Today, we were back at Journey Clinic, on the 9th floor, and the mood is totally different. It is broad daylight. We know and love all the nurses. Everything is familiar. We know where the comfy chairs are and how to get snacks. Nothing is scary. We were here yesterday for a round of chemo. Ravi’s red blood cell counts were low and so was his GFR, signaling that his kidneys were not happy. There was not enough time to give him chemo, type and cross his blood type, get the transfusion ready, and give him fluids. Briefly, it looked like we would have to go inpatient to get everything done. I really did not want to do this. Ravi was deeply traumatized by his month-long hospital stay last fall. Every time we go to Masonic Children’s I promise him we will come home that same day. I did not want to break that promise. Divine intervention happened when a different parent called in to cancel her child’s appointment for the 27th. Our nurse quickly grabbed that spot for Ravi. Whew! So, we spent about 6 hours at the clinic yesterday getting labs and then chemo. We came back today for more labs, a transfusion, and a liter of saline. Ravi was in great spirits for someone who had just had a round of chemo 24 hours before. He was happy to see all the nurses and was content to cuddle with me on the bed and watch his favorite PBS shows on his iPad. After about 4 hours he was pronounced stable, and we were sent home. For once, we got home before dark! 

Tomorrow we only have to be at the hospital for an hour, and that is for his beloved PT. He will get to build with big foam blocks, throw around a basketball, and ride the exercise bike. This is his idea of a very good time. Friday, we go back to Journey Clinic for labs and possibly more fluids. Then, fingers crossed, we are free until the following Wednesday. Freedom! What on earth will we do with ourselves? Ravi is plotting to overthrow the patriarchy.

So, here we are, a year later. Robert and I are a bit more wrinkled, grey, and sleep deprived. Ravi is taller and thinner with a collection of random scars and a smile that will melt your heart. His hair has fallen out again, but he is not one to worry about his looks. He just puts on a hat and goes about his business. #TeamRavi wishes you all the best in the coming year. Peace, be good humans, and we will be in touch.

Ravi is full of surprises. Yesterday, we went out to lunch with a dear friend. Midway through the meal, Ravi reached up to scratch his upper lip and half of his moustache fell off! For some reason, this struck us as very silly, and we had a good laugh. As we were finishing our meal Ravi had a tonic clonic seizure. He did this very quietly, tipping backwards in his seat. The three of us acted like a well-oiled machine. I slipped my hands under his head to prevent any trauma. Alissa grabbed his rescue meds from his bag. In one fluid motion, Robert tucked and rolled under the table to catch Ravi if he fell off the bench. Except for the one person who gave Robert a quizzical look, no one in the entire restaurant seemed aware of what had just happened. We gathered up our belongings, cleared the table, and with Ravi leaning heavily on us, got in the car. We dropped Alissa off and headed home. Once home, Ravi collapsed in bed and began snoring. We gave him formula, fluids and meds through his G tube and left him to sleep off the post-ictal period. I went to bed with the premonition that the next day could be rough.

Today, we had to be at the clinic early for fluids and labs. I was worried that the nurses would take one look at my emaciated, dehydrated son and admit him to the hospital. Amazingly, as we got to the clinic he perked up, not looking nearly as gaunt or haggard. To my surprise, his weight was up several kgs. I told the nurse about his cold, his seizure, his dehydration. She took blood for labs and said when the labs came back, they would decide about fluids. At this point, Ravi was happily perched on the bed watching videos and in no apparent distress. The nurse listened to his lungs but said that they sounded clear. A few minutes later the lab work came back. Both the nurse and I were amazed. His counts were either normal, or slightly below normal and trending in the right direction. 

The next two hours passed quickly. Ravi got a bolus of saline and a different medicine to help prevent pneumonia. He was happy and interactive the entire time. The only way one could tell he had just had chemo was that he was shedding hair profusely. This did not alarm him a bit. The nurse commented that the shedding might make his scalp itchy, so I made a mental note to shave his head when we got home. She and I had a great conversation about her work on the oncology floor and her patients. I am even more firmly convinced that oncology nurses are angels in disguise. They make everything about life with cancer better. I commented to her that a year ago, being at the clinic was so scary, and now it just felt so ordinary. I told her Ravi never minded coming to the hospital. She said that is the goal of the clinic. Though no one wants to have cancer, the nurses try to make life as ordinary as possible for their pediatric patients. During this conversation, Ravi alternated between watching a video and beaming at her. She beamed back at him and eventually, we made our way to the door.

Once home, I had only one wish, to get off my feet and have something to eat. Ravi had other plans. He refused to get out of the car. He liked being out of the house. I closed the garage door and went inside to find Robert. Robert had been at home all day and was looking for an excuse to go out, so he decided to take Ravi for a ride in the car. I headed for the couch and happily collapsed in a pile of snoozing animals. All concerned were happy. 

As I reflected on the day, I could not get over Ravi’s good mood. He woke up feeling post ictal and terrible, but he was still smiling. He was happy to see the nurses. Though he had his port accessed and was poked and prodded he took it all in good form. Miraculously, his labs and weight were stable. We did not have to be admitted to the hospital. This was the best Christmas present we could ask for. It is the simple things that bring joy. We get to be at home in our own beds tonight. Ravi is happy and smiling. We are not living in the sheer terror that we were a year ago. These are simple things for which my family is very greatly. May your holidays be full of simple things that bring you great joy. Peace.