The scan results are in:
Lungs - completely clear; no sign of any lesions
Left kidney (area where it was removed) - no new growths detected
Liver - 2 main "spots" remain; both are smaller than the last scan; both are sized between a hazelnut and a walnut.
There is a chance that the remaining lesions are just scar tissue, with no remaining tumor. To determine, Harper will undergo another biopsy, likely in the next week or two.
Besides the biopsy, the remaining step, according to the standard of care for Wilms, is radiation. We will meet with the radiation oncologist in the next week or so. He will walk us through what that will be like, how long it will go on, and what adverse effects we can expect. They will likely irradiate the lungs, the liver and the area where they took the kidney.
The chemo appears to have done its job. Now, we need to finish any remaining cells off for good.
We're not done yet, but we're feeling closer to the end than ever. 9 months ago we didn't even think about what it would be like to be where we are today - at least I tried to avoid it as we didn't know then if we'd ever get here. But, here we are.
It's still too early to celebrate just yet... But someone should tell the band to start warming up.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Thursday, February 6, 2014
The Strength to Run
I've never been a "real" runner.
Sure, I was in the Army. I ran... because I was ordered to run. I ran... because it was a Physical Fitness test. I ran not because I wanted to, but because I was compelled to run.
Running hurts. An object in motion will tend to want to stay in motion - but that natural law doesn't apply to the human body (or at least my human body) running. My body wants to rest. It feels the pounding of the ground, the grinding of the knees, the sharpness in the lungs, and it screams STOP.
I envy those who run because they enjoy it. I aspire to be one of them. I run these days (without an officer or noncom telling me to), but for health, weight control and self-image, not because I love to run.
But runners - "real" runners - embrace the agony, and, at some level and at some moments, actually enjoy it.
Transcending (or ignoring) pain and enjoying an otherwise miserable experience shows an incredible amount of strength. Strength that I suspect comes from deep inside.
In April 2013, Harper ran a 2 mile race. The Georgetown 2-miler; and she came home with a trophy for one of the best times in her age group.
In May, she started a longer race. A race she's still running.
Unfortunately, she's running because she has to, not because she chose to. She is compelled, by some force, deep within her, to keep going; to ignore the pain, to dismiss the despair, to confront the fear - and keep running.
Almost 9 months have elapsed, and she's still running.
And we've been running with her. Her trainers, of sorts. Watching her run, urging her on, following closely... Tired and weary, but still here, and ultimately, focused on her.
And just like "real" runners, at many different times Harper puts aside the hardship; ignores the unfairness of it all; transcends the terrible circumstance and actually enjoys - life.
Sure, it hurts. Yes, it's scary. Of course, she's tired.
But often Harper's hallmark is a smile. A giggle. A hug.
Strength wells up inside this little bald girl in the fight for her life, and it spills out on those of us lucky enough to be around her.
More people than I can count have remarked, at different times and in different ways, on how they admire or respect my personal strength in this circumstance. They indicate amazement at how strong I seem to be for Harper and the rest of our family.
The reality is - the strength they see is not mine. My own strength is augmented, supported, and pales in comparison to the strength that flows from Harper.
She is the reason I keep running. Some days it's easy; the knees don't hurt, the air is warm, the sun shines. Other days I ache, the air is cold and harsh in my lungs and cold rain falls and soaks me through.
But I keep running, following, urging on Harper.
But I am not a "real" runner. And the strength that keeps me upright is not my own.
I'm not sure where the finish line is, but keep running Harper. I'm right here. I know this race is not what you chose, but you're doing great. Keep it up.
"You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have." - Unknown
Sure, I was in the Army. I ran... because I was ordered to run. I ran... because it was a Physical Fitness test. I ran not because I wanted to, but because I was compelled to run.
Running hurts. An object in motion will tend to want to stay in motion - but that natural law doesn't apply to the human body (or at least my human body) running. My body wants to rest. It feels the pounding of the ground, the grinding of the knees, the sharpness in the lungs, and it screams STOP.
I envy those who run because they enjoy it. I aspire to be one of them. I run these days (without an officer or noncom telling me to), but for health, weight control and self-image, not because I love to run.
But runners - "real" runners - embrace the agony, and, at some level and at some moments, actually enjoy it.
Transcending (or ignoring) pain and enjoying an otherwise miserable experience shows an incredible amount of strength. Strength that I suspect comes from deep inside.
In April 2013, Harper ran a 2 mile race. The Georgetown 2-miler; and she came home with a trophy for one of the best times in her age group.
In May, she started a longer race. A race she's still running.
Unfortunately, she's running because she has to, not because she chose to. She is compelled, by some force, deep within her, to keep going; to ignore the pain, to dismiss the despair, to confront the fear - and keep running.
Almost 9 months have elapsed, and she's still running.
And we've been running with her. Her trainers, of sorts. Watching her run, urging her on, following closely... Tired and weary, but still here, and ultimately, focused on her.
And just like "real" runners, at many different times Harper puts aside the hardship; ignores the unfairness of it all; transcends the terrible circumstance and actually enjoys - life.
Sure, it hurts. Yes, it's scary. Of course, she's tired.
But often Harper's hallmark is a smile. A giggle. A hug.
Strength wells up inside this little bald girl in the fight for her life, and it spills out on those of us lucky enough to be around her.
More people than I can count have remarked, at different times and in different ways, on how they admire or respect my personal strength in this circumstance. They indicate amazement at how strong I seem to be for Harper and the rest of our family.
The reality is - the strength they see is not mine. My own strength is augmented, supported, and pales in comparison to the strength that flows from Harper.
She is the reason I keep running. Some days it's easy; the knees don't hurt, the air is warm, the sun shines. Other days I ache, the air is cold and harsh in my lungs and cold rain falls and soaks me through.
But I keep running, following, urging on Harper.
But I am not a "real" runner. And the strength that keeps me upright is not my own.
I'm not sure where the finish line is, but keep running Harper. I'm right here. I know this race is not what you chose, but you're doing great. Keep it up.
"You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have." - Unknown
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