Tuesday, February 9, 2010

An Open Letter to Sears

Dear Sears,

I know you follow my blog, so here goes...I promise I have gotten your messages. All of them. We have received all the parts to our washing machine in the mail. I am not ignoring you. I simply cannot make an appointment until I hear from Eve's doctors. I appreciate you calling daily, even three times a day, to follow up on my issue. I promise to call you as soon as I know when I will be here to let your repairman into our home. Pinky swear. Until then, I remain,

Checking my voicemail,
Christy Griffith.

So here's the thing, the final pathology report came back on Friday. My understanding was that the oncologists would look at the report and then look at Eve's protocol to see what that tells us to do. Kind of like a choose-your-own-adventure book. Viable cancer in remaining kidney? Go down route B. Necrotic samples from lymph nodes? Follow path C.

I jokingly asked one of the doctors on Friday if they would be able to make a decision after consulting the pathology report and protocol or if they would need to carbon copy every pediatric oncologist in the US in a game of cross-country email tag. Haha, no, no, of course not. This should be pretty straightforward.

Monday evening rolls around. The phone rings. Guess what? Nervous laughter on the other end. "It seems as though we did need to do some emailing."

The left kidney tumor samples looked great. Everything was necrotic. Apparently, the right kidney (which was removed) responded great to chemo, but there was still a little bit of viable Wilms in it. Which apparently makes things like decision-making hairy.

So where are we right now? I have no clue. The goal, according the the protocol, was to start therapy within two weeks of surgery. The two-week mark is Thursday. I'm starting to wonder about this protocol. It must be as complicated as Eve.

It's been three weeks since Eve last had chemo. It feels like an eternity. Kind of like how I can't believe Natalie is only four years old. It feels like she's been around for at least ten.

Until I know which days and how often Eve will have chemo, I'm floating in a scheduling-limbo.

I'm trying, Sears. I'm really trying.


  1. Hang in there Christy. Remember, you've got quite a support club out there, praying for you, cheering for you and doing whatever else it is people may do, all because we care about you, Eve and the rest of the family.

  2. i never liked playing limbo. oh goody, a game to bend over backwards while a crowd cheers you to push yourself to the point of falling on your a*$. ...come on docs, get your poop in a group and form it. all eyes are on you. and tweedling thumbs. action eve is waiting for her next assignment. i'm guessing eve is gaining strength with each passing day, it must be nice to let her body have a chemo-cation.

    christy, you and your family are in my daily thoughts. i am hoping for the end of therapy to come quick. viva la eve!