The last vestiges of Ian's platelets and neutrophils are being progressively suffocated by rapidly multiplying leukemia blasts. The biopsy showed a clear relapse of leukemia. This is the update I never, ever wanted to write.
The girls flew in late Tuesday night and were too exhausted for a serious talk, so we decided to tell them the next morning. I felt strongly that we should all go to the clinic together for his first chemo, to face it all together as a family unit. We had a fun morning of favorite breakfast foods, reading stories, playing legos and riding bikes. My heart was breaking throughout though, knowing we had to invade the sweetness of reunion and these simple pleasures with a very complicated announcement. We just couldn't do it, so we packed up and headed to the clinic without explaining the bigger story. Finally, while walking from our car to the clinic, we broke the news. Fiona didn't seem to get it, but Asha's face fell with sadness. Later as we were waiting for the doctor to come, we had deeper conversations and Asha cried in Ian's arms. It was good to see her facing it and grieving and feeling the emotions this time. Last time she never really faced it and her emotions came out sideways.
Day 1 of a 5-day round of chemotherapy began yesterday. Please pray this chemo is gentle on his liver (and nausea) but superpower strong to kick that AML. Four weeks from now, we will begin round two. The plan is to finish two rounds, then get a boost of stem cells from Ian's brother. If this goes well, we will repeat it. Something like that. It was hard to hear and process these things while also monitoring Asha's emotions. At first she blocked her ears, looked down to the floor, and made semi-quiet mouth noises to keep from hearing anything the doctor said. She was afraid he would say Ian was going to die soon. She finally realized he was just helping us make a plan to get him healthy again, and was able to at least stop consciously distracting herself. But it was emotionally intense. Please pray for the girls as they process these things and our lives become more restricted.
Ian is back on medications to help protect him while being severely immune compromised, and we are back on quarantine for the foreseeable future. Please pray protection for Ian as he will be in a very vulnerable place for a while. A bright spot was hearing that the thick, sticky, nauseatingly disgusting anti-fungal liquid medication that was the bane of Ian's recovery last time is now available in tablet form. Huge relief! Also, as long as things go smoothly and are actually effective, he will be able to do these rounds of chemo out-patient. That means we get him home with us between treatments! He has already endured being peeled out of bed this morning and dragged into a "relaxation station" put together by Asha and is currently reading princess stories to Fiona while I try to post this update and make phone calls back and forth with the clinic and pharmacy. I'm realizing it will bring immense complications of its own having his recovery at home in the midst of family life. I'm feeling overwhelmed and frustrated and heartbroken this morning. We need a lot of miracles. Please pray for restful, joyful balance in the midst of all this and a smooth road to successful and complete healing.
Thank you for your prayers for us as we walk this horrible road again. There is a world of emotions embedded in that small block of medical buildings at UCSF that I never wanted to revisit. The urine smell in the parking garage, the elevators I've cried in, the sympathetic faces of caring nurses who really get it, the growing mound of medications, the fears, the grief, the anger, the questions, the unknowns... they are all coming back to me. All of these sharp and cutting memories can easily intensify the dread and discouragement of his relapse, but we are trying to have good mental hygiene. We are choosing to walk in hope. We remember the fire, but we also remember God's grace carrying us through it. My prayer is that we get through it again, not even smelling like smoke.
Thank you so much for your prayers, your texts, your phone calls, your facebook messages and offers of support. It means so much. Thank you especially for reminding us of our hope in those moments when it seems to slip away. We are grateful for such a rich community of friends and family to walk this rough road with us.


























