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.

It's complicated.

There are a few phrases no one wants to hear when you talk to a doctor about your child's case. Among these are "very unusual," "extremely abnormal," and my least favorite, "it's complicated." Every doctor we have met has stressed how complicated Eve's case is.

For once, things might look a little less complicated.

The radiation-oncologist called this evening to share the news that Eve will NOT need radiation. [Insert lots of emoticons and exclamation points here.] The final pathology report is in, and it looks as though the resected right kidney still had a little bit of Wilms, but responded great to chemo. The questionable parts of the left kidney that were biopsied showed necrosis, meaning that tissue was dead. Chemo wins! I guess we'll never know if the left kidney actually had Wilms or nephroblastomatoses, but who really cares at this point, as long as those guys stay on Beetlejuice's side of the universe.

Now we need to wait for the hematology-oncology team to get the pathology report and see what kind of chemo treatment Eve will get next, which will start sometime this week coming up. Tentative excitement brewing in our house, although I'm always afraid to get too excited since it's complicated.