Another Chapter Closes...

Another Chapter Closes...

Another trip to Montréal under our belts and a great one to bring an end to Maya’s first year after being diagnosed with retinoblastoma.

Today we went to another retinoblastoma clinic where Maya was one of many children who were placed under general anaesthesia for an in-depth eye exam. Her more-than-cooperative and helpful team of doctors also organized for her lumbar and bone marrow punctures to be done at the same time (in order to avoid another trip for us, as well as another sedation for Maya). It was a great day where everything ran smoothly and more quickly than usual. We arrived at 9:50 a.m. and left the hospital at 3:00 p.m. It seems like a long time to be there, but considering that between those times Maya was weighed, measured, had her vitals checked, given a pick-pick for her blood work (which was the best she cooperated ever and has a beautiful pink finger puppet to show it), had her lungs, ears and heart checked, had cream placed on her back, was put to sleep, had the examination done and waited for her to wake up, it was quick! The short 90 minutes we waited until it was her turn to have the exam done was spent watching Caillou on the portable DVD player we had borrowed from a friend (thank you, thank you, thank you Gen!). The bottom-line was that my daughter was happy and content pretty much the entire time we were there, despite the fact that she had not eaten since supper-time last night.

My mother accompanied me on this trip and gave me the necessary support and company I needed on such an emotionally-charged day. Maya was also thrilled to have her “Graggy” there to keep her company.

Once again, the most challenging and inspiring part of being at the retinoblastoma clinic is seeing the other children and parents who are living with retinoblastoma. Since retinoblastoma is such a rare cancer that rarely presents itself the same way twice, everybody there has very different stories to share. Fortunately today, every time Dr. S kept coming out of the examination room to talk to parents, the news was always good for all the families. Every time I listened to her speak to parents, I was reminded of just how gentle, positive and straight to the point this woman is when she gives parents news. It reminded me of just how comforting she was when we received the difficult news of Maya’s tumour.

Today we saw many families: one was a little boy we saw six months ago at the last retinoblastoma clinic. The last time we saw him, he was starting chemotherapy for a tumour in his left eye. Today, his chemo is done and his tumour is now inactive.

We saw another couple with two children who both have retinoblastoma. Their oldest has done chemo in the past and has been in remission for three years and their youngest just completed his third cycle of chemo out of six. I couldn’t help but look at them and admire them for their strength to go through all of this with both their children. It once again put things into perspective for me about just how we were blessed at so many different levels with Maya and Ella.

The most striking thing about seeing all the families every time we go to the hospital is not their pain and suffering, but the love that exists between the parents and the children. No matter how difficult it can get, these parents love their kids with all of their hearts and that feeling is clearly returned by the kids by the cuddles and attention they need during their toughest times.

I have learned a lot this year about just how strong the bond between parent and child can be. It is times like these that I rejoice in our choice for me to be a stay-at-home mom. Being with my kids, through their good times and their not-so-good times is something I could not replace with anything else.