She is still here

This is my first post in more than a month. When I started to write at the beginning of Harper's cancer journey, it was therapy for me. It was an outlet for emotions that I could not easily show or express in front of her. It also acted as a communication method for some of those in our lives who began following the story and support us.

It seems such a long time ago now, but this all started a mere 5 months ago. During that time we've experienced multiple surgeries, 6 rounds of chemo, multiple CT scans, echos and ultrasounds, and literally countless blood tests.

Harper has withdrawn and returned to us (emotionally) several times. She has lost her hair, been kept from school and been robbed the innocence of just being a "normal" kid. Everywhere we go, she is different. When we're in public, she often wears hats to hide her head. Generally only with friends she is comfortable with does she bare her scalp. (Though her confidence and comfort with her physical appearance has improved).

The chemo that she once surprisingly seemed to be immune to (side effects) are now taking their toll. My personal guess is that the removal of her kidney has reduced her body's ability to remove the drugs as quickly as they did before, and now the chemo is doing what we expected all along. She is much more nauseous now, though the drugs are the same.

All of this can be tiresome, troubling, and disheartening - until I think of one simple thought - She's still here.

When were initially told the diagnosis, we wept. Not just cried - wept. Physically shaking, tears flowing, holding each other (Melissa and I) left alone in a room, away from Harper. We looked in each other's eyes, and wordlessly both acknowledged what we had feared since admission - we could lose her. But, she's still here.

The pathology is good. Almost total necrosis. The drugs are working. The poison we allow them to pump into her veins, that causes her hair to fall out, that (now) makes her nauseous, that drains her of energy and spirit, and could be permanently damaging her in ways we may not understand for years - it's working.

Others are not so lucky. We have watched, on Facebook especially, other children with cancer fight, and lose. We have watched others fight as valiantly and as courageously as Harper, and go on to a better place.

But she is still here.

We still have much road ahead. Even once the current treatment plan is done, and even if we are "cleared" around New Years (as is our current hope) we will wonder, worry, and stress over the next scan, and the next, and the next, never being completely confident that it won't come back.

But, for now, she is still here. And we have hope. Hope that despite the odds (which have never been great) that Harper will win. Hope that she will emerge victorious against the physical demon that is cancer. Hope for Harper.

She is still here.

And so are we.

Tired, troubled and disheartened at times, but lifted up and revived by our family, our friends, and Harper herself. But we are here, for her.

And if we're lucky, we will say for years to come - She is still here.