Fireworks

Last night we didn't stay up late. Despite the holiday today, we were due in the Outpatient Medical Observation Unit (OMO) at 8:30am for chemo. Today is day 4 of 4 of round 3 of chemo for Harper's Wilm's tumors.

Harper doesn't sleep alone anymore. She has shared a room with her sisters for years, but now she shares a bed, usually with me, occasionally Melissa and once in a while Grandma. She doesn't want to be alone - be it in a room watching TV or in a bed sleeping.

Harper was out, and the neighbors started setting off some small fireworks. Fortunately, Harper didn't wake up. While her anxiety has improved dramatically from when we started this journey (she hasn't needed a dose of Ativan for quite awhile) she still doesn't like scary shows or loud sounds. Fireworks qualify.

The fireworks didn't last long, and I thought to myself that it was very unlikely we'll get to enjoy any fireworks this 4th of July holiday - not with Harper the way she is right now. Maybe next year...

The Holiday morning dawned, and it has been raining on and off all day. With some luck, I thought, the local (neighborhood) displays will be smaller or delayed. Especially with the holiday on a Thursday, I'm guessing folks would wait if its raining and go for the weekend.

We made it to the OMO and settled in for a 6 hour day.

I've continually worried about Harper, and her lack of happiness as this experience has unfolded. She went from a very happy, loving, and relatively carefree child to a somber, quiet, grimacing one. It was a radical change, and one we've had a tough time adjusting to. I've wondered what is going on in her mind, and tried to formulate ideas of things to push her towards joy - things she might enjoy, or used to make her happy. Little has broken through dramatically. Even getting a horse, while making her happy, didn't drag her out of her funk. Nothing seemed to light her up - spark her fuse.

I don't know what about THIS visit to the OMO was different. We've been here what feels like countless times. We've gotten chemo, blood transfusions and stem cell apheresis here, and always somber. Always quiet. Usually sleep.

Today, after things were hooked up and flowing, Harper got out her iPad. She started drawing on it, with a Kaleidoscope app. She suddenly transformed. She smiled. She drew. She giggled. She even laughed. She showed us her drawings - grinning and describing what she saw in the pictures. She oohed, and aaahed as the colors changed, flowers emerged. It was incredible.

The nurses looked in. They'd seen her a lot, but never happy. Never joyful. Never laughing. They were shocked. They were elated.

Me? I saw fireworks. The prettiest, biggest, loudest fireworks I could imagine. In my mind, even for just awhile, a show was going on. Crashes of elation, booms of cheer and crackles of good spirits. I was in awe, my mouth hanging open. We laughed with her, soaking up the experience.

She's napping now, worn out by the excitement. Tired from the fun. She may not wake up and repeat it for awhile. Who knows? We may go back to searching for a spark again - I hope not. I hope it's a turning point.

On this 4th of July, we may not wonder at the site of exploding fireworks in the sky - but we've already wondered, and been renewed and refreshed by fireworks in her eyes.