Dr. Giselle Sholler

I miss him

Ronan. What a day. How I miss the simple days of chasing you around. Laughing as you would pick all the flowers around our neighborhood from other people’s yards, thinking you were so naughty for doing so. I let you think you were being naughty, just to make you giggle and to let you feel like you were breaking the rules. Gosh, how I loved to embrace your little spicy rebellious ways. You weren’t naughty. You were innocent. You were a child. You were mine. You were the best thing that’s ever been mine. I honestly still cannot believe you are gone and that I don’t get to chase you around anymore. There is not a second of the day, that I do not miss you. Not one second.

I sat at the TGen conference all day again today. I don’t know what in the world happened, but I spent most of the day wiping tears away from my eyes. In a room full of scientists, doctors, researchers….. all there for pediatric cancer. I was only there, for you. The biggest reason of all. I did my best to soak up everything that was being said. Neuroblastoma was only touched on a few times but I found that when it was being talked about in charts, graphs, statistics…. was when it was all I could do not to crawl under the table and curl up in a ball. I didn’t want everyone in that room to see the data that was being presented in front of their faces in a scientific form. I know it’s important to them Ronan and I am so thankful for all the hard work that’s going into this disease, but it’s not enough. I wanted the data to show your face instead. I mean, I think your big blue eyes are the most compelling piece of evidence ever of why this disease deserves to have a better outcome. It was actually all I could do, not to run up to the podium and hijack the speakers talk. I imagined it. A dozen times. I imagined myself, slapping your picture up on the screen. I wouldn’t have needed to say much as your eyes say it all. I think my eyes do too. But if I would have said something, it would have been something like this:

I’m not a doctor. I’m not a scientist. I’m not a researcher. I’m not even a nurse.

I’m a mom. I’m a mom whose heart is broken into a million pieces because this little boy, was mine. But he was stolen from me by childhood cancer. Please work harder because there is a reason you are here. Please make this about more than just science. Please let him be one of the reasons that you will work harder. Please fix this, so someday another mother like me, does not have to stand before you, wearing her child’s ashes around her neck. He deserved better. He deserved to be mine, for much longer than almost 4 years. He should have been mine, for the rest of MY life. I should have been his, for much more than almost 4 years. Almost 4 years, will never be enough.

I know they are not the most compelling words, but today they were the only thing I could muster up in my over active imagination to say. My brain/emotions are fried. As I said before, I don’t think I need any words. Your picture is enough. How could anyone look at your face, and not be broken-hearted? The combination of your beauty and my sadness is more than enough, baby doll. The ultimate sacrifice.

Candice from TGen was kind enough to make sure I got to meet Dr. Sholler today. I actually got nervous as I went to not shake her hand, but to give her a hug instead. It’s so funny to me how the medical community are just not big huggers. It almost seems to make them uncomfortable. It actually makes me laugh. It seems to completely throw them all off. I think I need to spread the RoLove around. I think it’s a big part of the missing piece of the puzzle of this sometimes detached from emotion reality that these doctors live in. Dr. Sholler was not expecting it, but she smiled and seemed o.k. with this crazy girl hugging her and trying to find the words to tell her thank you. I think I stumbled on a few things. I remember telling her about you. Showing her your picture. Handing her your Rocard. I called her a maverick and an outside of the box thinker….. I don’t think she knew quite what to make of me. I was hoping she wasn’t thinking, “Who is this crazed stalker with purple hair??!” because that’s what I totally felt like. I am so glad I finally got to meet her. She told me she was sorry about you. You know that speaks volumes in my book. Simple words that go such a long way. I look forward to hearing her speak tomorrow. I look forward to watching what she does in regards to Neuroblastoma. She’s very eager which I like. Eager and passion are both things I feel from her. So, let’s keep watching and learning more Ronan. She has our attention. She’s had it for a while. Oh, and I saw Dr. Eshun again today. He tried once again to shake my hand and laughed as I grabbed him for a hug.

Today, while I sat in the room full of absolute brilliance everywhere, I noticed there were 2 things missing. Well, 3 actually but I’m only going to talk about 2. Dr. Mosse from Chop. I emailed her and told her I was there and that I wish had been there, speaking. She emailed me back to tell me that some of her colleagues were there, and she was sorry she could not attend. She also told me she hoped I was o.k. She made me smile so for that moment in time, I was o.k. I sent Dr. Jo a text to tell her that this conference desperately needed her there. Fo shizzle. There is a missing layer to all of this and it is only something that Dr. Badass JoRo can deliver. It has nothing to do with science. It’s Humanity. Depth. Compassion. Pain. Beauty. Rawness. Realness. That woman has such a way with words, that she could have no doubt brought every person in that room, to their knees begging to know her secret. Her secret has nothing to do with her fancy degree. Her secret is not something you can get at med school. Her secret is beyond this world and she is the only one that can posses it. She is doing amazing things with it. Romazing. I’m just sorry it fucking has to be this way. It shouldn’t be, because of this beyond fucked up fuckery that she is surviving. Everyday, she is surviving Ronan. She is surviving all while making this world a better place. Not many people can say that about themselves. Not many people would want to. Not even her. Trust me. Nothing is worth this pain.

In the middle of my noyoucannotsoblikeafuckingbabyinfrontofallthesepeopletantrum…. I sent your Mr. Sparkly Eyes a text message. I don’t even know what I said but I’m sure I was on one of my usual rants about F U Cancer to him. He simply responded with an, ” I miss him.” I read his words Ronan and FUCK. I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. It was game over. I know he misses you but for some reason, it hit me really hard today. In a conference room full of people, alligator tears were uncontrollable. I took a minute to get myself under control and just told him, ” I miss him for you too.” That was all. Nothing more needed to be said as those words were enough. Sometimes the simplest words, say it all. I know what needs to be done. I trust in you. I will be your Rovocate for the rest of my life. I will make you both proud. I will never stop fighting for all that was taken away from you. For the love that was ripped from my arms. I promise I won’t give up until our RoLove, changes the world.

O.k. little man. That’s all for tonight. I love you. I’ll be sorry for the rest of my life. I can’t wait for the day that I can see you again. And no. I don’t need to believe in a fucking GOD for this to happen so people need to stop saying that. I believe in you, Ronan and you are more than any GOD could ever be. I miss you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams, little man.

xoxo

P.S. Thank you for all the Roideas today. Through my sadness, grief, pain…. the ideas would not stop flowing. Pediatic Cancer is about to get FUCKED!

Romama’s Busy Day

Ronan. I don’t have time to dig my hole this week, because due to a last minute invite…. I am so busy. And so tired. But in a very good way. I got an email from a lovie from T-Gen a few days ago. She wanted to tell me that Dr. Giselle Sholler was coming into town for a conference. She attached the info. I looked up the conference info and it said registration was closed. I emailed this lovie back and said, “Please, if there is anything you can do…. I’d love to attend this conference!” About an hour later I got an email back saying that I could indeed attend the conference and T-Gen would happily take care of my registration fees. So nice, Ro. I told your lovie, thank you so much! She replied back with, “Anything for Ro.” Thanks so much, T. You have no idea how much this means to me.

The conference is Monday-Wednesday and it’s all on Pediatric Cancer Genomics. Otherwise known as a foreign language to me, but I think I’m starting to understand parts of it. Just when you think you are starting to understand pieces of this childhood cancer thing….. you find out that you really have not a clue. I did not get home until 7 tonight and getting someone to help with your brothers was so last-minute as well. Thanks Sarah, so much. You saved me. I sat in a room full of so many amazing people. I felt honored to be among them. I saw your Dr. Eshun there. He is such a kind soul. He look surprised to see me. I gave him a smile and he tried to just shake my hand like he always does as he is so polite. I grabbed him for a big bear hug instead, like I always do. He asked how we were and wanted to know what I was doing at the conference. I just smiled and told him that if I was going to be an advocate for you, that I felt it was necessary to educate myself on what it is that I am advocating for; besides the obvious. I told him how I have been quietly watching Dr. Sholler from afar for a while and how I was interested in T-Gen as well. He said to me, “You probably know more about this stuff, then I do.” I just laughed and said I doubted it, but I was a fast learner. I told him I’d see him tomorrow. He smiled and said to have a good night.

Tomorrow the conference starts at 8 a.m. but I won’t get there until after I drop your brothers off at school. It goes on until 6:30 or so. It’s a long day but it’s a good long day to have. I love to learn and it comes easier to me when it is something I am very passionate about. You would be the passion behind this, of course baby doll. I was sitting in between 2 men all day. The one to the right kept falling asleep and snoring. I almost elbowed him and said, “Seriously dude?! My son died from cancer, can’t you at least act like your interested in being here?” I kept trying to read his name tag to see where he was from. It said his name and that he was from COG. I tried to give him the befit of the doubt, like maybe he had bad jet lag or was sick. If that were the case he should have just went back up to his hotel room because he slept though pretty much everything. The guy on the other side of the guy I was sitting next to looked nice. I caught a glimpse of his name tag. He was there for the Team Finn Foundation. I grabbed my phone and googled him right away. I don’t waste any time. I read about his son, Finn who died from Rhabdomyosarcoma. I grabbed Finn’s dad on the arm and held it there. I said, “I Googled you. I’m sorry about Finn.” His eyes started to tear up. “I lost my son, Ronan, almost 9 months ago to Neuroblastoma.” I don’t remember what we said next. I think Finn’s dad asked me, why I was here, besides Ronan. I said that was the only reason I needed to be here, was for Ronan. He is my teacher now and he knows I need to learn everything I can on this so we can hopefully help them if we believe in what it is they are doing. If I am going to support T-Gen, I need to do my homework. This is not a test I can flunk. This is not a test you can do over. I am here to learn what they are going to do with pediatric oncology that it will impact this disease in a big way. I am here to meet Dr. Sholler, so I can at least tell her thank you for being so kind to us as she was going to take Ronan on one of her trials in San Diego, but then your little liver starting failing baby…. and there was nothing else we could do. We were trying to get a plane to take us out there and everything. But you were dying even though we still had hope. So much hope. You organs, just started shutting down, one by one. I’ll never get the mental image of your skinny little body out of my head. It will haunt me for the rest of my life. I think about so much, all the horrible treatments you were put through. So much chemo, pokies, oral meds, sedations, surgeries, radiation….. none of it worked because if it did, you would not be dead. Your daddy asked me the other day, what I thought would have happened, had we done nothing? I can’t answer that question yet. Did the chemo kill you faster than just letting you be???

I remembering after you died that I was in such shock. I was sitting with your Mr. Sparkly Eyes and I just said to him, “How did he die? I mean, what happened?” I don’t medically understand how he could just die.” Sparkly sat and explained it to me in a way that I could understand. Basically all of your organs started failing, then stopped working. Your heart just stopped beating. I thought why couldn’t we just get him new organs and a new heart? Somebody had to have those just lying around, right? How could his heart just stopped beating? That’s impossible! He loves me too much! I still think this way. Sometimes my heart feels so full of love like it did tonight when I met Finn’s Dad, that I swear it doubles in size. I think your heart lives inside of me, Ronan. I think that’s why when I feel really strongly about something or someone, the love I have for them gets twice as big. That’s all because of you. Our love is so strong. It is so amazing. It is going to change the world. I may have broken my promise to you about saving you…. but I’m not breaking this one, Ro. Our LOVE WILL CHANGE THE WORLD. Just watch baby. Just watch.

I’m going now. My brain will not shut up on genocodes/genomics/phenotypes/functional genomes/translational genomics//////// intense stuff///////// worth the raging headache and red eyes. Ready for tomorrow. Not really. But I need to get some sleep for tomorrow. I’ve been sleeping in your bed. It makes me feel close to you.

I love you my spicy monkey boy. I miss you so much. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams, baby doll. G’nite.

I think she’s on to something…..

http://www.ascopost.com/articles/january-15-2012/first-genomic-based-pediatric-trials-launched-in-neuroblastoma/#.TxmBZzx4VfN.email

7 Months but who’s counting? I am. I always will be.

Ronan. I wrote to you. On your 7 month day. I wrote to you around 2:30 a.m. May 9th was just 7 months ago. Feels like 7 years. I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I ended up making your daddy give me something to help me sleep. The screaming in my head wouldn’t stop. It stopped and I fell asleep. I don’t know where everything I wrote to you went , as it is not here anymore. It’s probably best that way. I’m sure what I had written down, wasn’t pretty. I’m not sure where the week went. It was busy. Non-stop. I’ve been a very busy mama. I had a meeting at T-Gen. They were kind enough to meet with me so I could get an idea about what it is, they are doing in regards to Neuroblastoma. I wanted to see what they are using the 4 million dollars that Dell has given them for. They are working with Dr. Giselle Sholler, whom you know I am very interested in. I have been reading everything about her that I can possibly find. She is on to something big. I look forward to the day I can meet her. I look forward to the day that she can retire, because she is going find a cure for this nasty disease. I sat in a room full of these people from T-Gen. I had to tell them all, a bit about your story. I’ve never really talked about you, in front of a room full of strangers, Ro. I much prefer hiding behind my computer. Glasses on. Hair up. No make-up. Music blaring. Did you see me? The way I was only able to give them the generic basics about what happened to you? The very business like story. I had on my best business like boots. My best business like jacket. My best business like face. Game face on. Because I knew if I said what I really wanted to say, that I would have ended up under the table, sobbing like a baby. How do you tell a room full of people, what you really want to say? How do you tell them the way the love of your life, was ripped out of your arms and how hard you fought to help them beat this disease? How you fought with everything in your entire body, only to fail. So clearly, I failed as a mother because I promised I’d save you, and I didn’t. How do you tell them the way you watched your child die, will haunt you for the rest of your life. So much so that most days you walk around feeling as if all the air has been sucked out of you. How you are now filled with such guilt and shame because you are certain you chose the wrong path for your child. Because if the right one had been chosen, you would still be here. Death would not have been the outcome, right? I know what you are saying. That this is not the case. Because if there were ever 2 parents, who knew this disease inside and out…. it was us. If there were ever two parents, who tried their hardest…. it was us. If there were ever two parents, who loved a little boy the most…. it was us. But it was not good enough Ronan. We failed. I hope I don’t always believe this, but the grief thing is still blinding me and beating me to a pulp. So much so that I have bruises all over my body and I have no idea where they have come from. The funny thing is, these bruises appear and I don’t even feel them so I don’t notice them until I look down and I see a huge black and blue mark on my leg. Or my arm. I just assume I don’t feel them, because I don’t feel much of anything anymore.

So, the meeting at T-Gen I took your Mr. Sparkly Eyes with me. I am so thankful he went as he has a way of knowing how to put my thoughts into words, without me having to say anything at all. Because he was there, though all of this. He watched the way this played out. He saw your smiles, listened to your laughs, watched my tears, listened to my screams, at sat back, helplessly, when there was nothing left to do. His insider’s/outsider’s perspective on this was useful as well. I get that I am the emotional mommy who just lost her son. He was able to play the role of the level-headed, logical one who loved you as well…. but not in the way that a mother loves her son. As soon as we left T-Gen I got the talk. The one that he is so good at giving. The one that went something like, “This is it. This is what you were meant to do. I don’t care how hard this gets, I don’t care how much you want to give up. You cannot. Do you hear me? You cannot. This is it. You are going to change this so that one day, when I am gone, you can look up there and give me a little wave and tell me you did it.” I couldn’t even reply to that one. I only choked back my tears and said something like, “Where are you going,??” Which in turn ended up in the,”I’m not going to live forever talk.” The one I choose to ignore, every time it comes up.

From T-Gen, I went home. Wiped out from the day. I had a board meeting to go to though so I had to man up as they say. I was dreading it. Our last one was a disaster. It was so painful and everyone was on edge. I expected this one to be the same way. It wasn’t. It was lovely, but long. 3 hours long. It ran really smoothly and all of our concerns were addressed but in the most loving way possible. After we wrapped things up, I looked around the room and felt a wave of warmth wash over me. Like something very big and magical was about to happen. All because of the women that I was surrounded with whom were all there for one reason. Because of you. Because they believe in you and they know they are going to be a part of something so beautiful and true. Something different and unique. Something that is going to change their lives…. for the better. They believe in you. They believe in me. That is more than I could ever ask for, Ro. I felt you all around us that entire night. Thank you for that, baby. I really needed that in the worst way possible.

I spent that next day, feeling pretty beat. I think the whole not sleeping thing, the T-Gen meeting, the board meeting, and not seeing Dr. Jo, caught up to me. Thursday came and I tried my very best to suck it up and carry on with the world. Mandy Bee spent the morning with me, doing distracting things. I was out with her for a couple of hours. I knew I was going to crack. I looked at her and told her that I needed to go home, as I was feeling like I couldn’t handle much more of the real world for the day. She took me home, helped me with a few things around the house and played the role of the best jewish mother that I have come to love, so much. She told me she could stay if I needed her to. I gave her one of my best bullshit smiles as she calls them and told her it was o.k. I needed the quiet time. I knew what was about to happen and I just had to give into it. She left. I crawled into bed and sobbed the rest of the day. Thankfully, Liam and Quinn stayed the night with Mimi and Papa so I didn’t have to put on a show for anyone. I got up to run to an appointment. I came back home. Your daddy and I were supposed to go to a concert. He came home. He saw my puffy eyes. I told him, I couldn’t go. I told him to please go without me, to have fun with his friends. I could tell he needed to blow off some steam. I told him I just wanted to stay in bed and be sad. I don’t do that often enough. I was in no mood to go out in public and pretend. Your daddy went. I stayed home. I cried for 15 hours that day and night. I cried for you until I could take no more. That’s when I had to take the little magic go to sleep pill. I thought all of that crying would have knocked me out. It didn’t. The screaming in my head and the silence of the house were too much to take. I passed out. I woke up feeling o.k. 7 months had arrived. I just had to make it through the day.

I had a busy busy busy Friday. I saw Dr. Jo. It was good. It’s always good. I had a lunch to go to after I left her. A lunch that turned your very sad 7 month day, into a very sweet day instead. I met with a new friend. I say new friend, because I have a feeling about this new person. You know that feeling when you meet somebody and you just kind of go, oh hello person I feel like I’ve known my entire life, but I’m just meeting for the first time, today. That is how I felt when I met this person. Her name is Kristi. Kristi Michaels. She knows that Rock Star person we talked about in a few posts before this one. She knows him, very, very well. She knows him, better than anyone. Hellos were said. Hugs were given. We hopped in her car where we sat for a good 20 minutes before leaving for lunch. We sat and talked. I guess we more cried, than talked. I was a mess. She was a mess. We sat and she listened as I told her about you and this sad story that nobody wants to hear about. Because childhood cancer is just too sad so people would rather ignore it because if you ignore it, surly it will go away, right Ro? Bullshit. Somewhere in the middle of all the tears, Kristi said Bret wanted my permission to do something in honor of you. He wanted to ask my permission to have a room at Barrows Medical Center, where he was treated for his brain aneurysm, named after you. Built for you. With your little face, smiling down at the kids below. A play place for the kids to go. A safe and happy place full of all things wild and free. Because you are that beautiful, Ronan, that nobody wants to forget your face. Kristi and Bret and going to make sure that you don’t get lost in all of this. They want to help make sure to help spread the word in any way possible, any way I need or want. This is just the beginning of great things to come. They know that it is not acceptable for kids to be dying of cancer due to the lack of funding and awareness. You should not have died. You just should not have, Ronan. This was not the way this was supposed to turn out. But for fucks sake, it did. And I swear to you, I’m not going to stop telling your story until people start to listen. And things start to change. Kristi was crying when she told me about this. She was also crying when she told me that Bret wore your bracelet in his Pet Smart campaign. And also, in their Christmas Card picture which she gave me while we sat in the car. I opened up their Christmas Card. This was after my little rant about Fuck the Holidays and Fuck Holiday Cards. I smiled when I looked at the faces on the card. I smiled because it was at that exact moment, that I knew that this family, staring back at me, was truer than true. It wasn’t a FAKE or PHONY holiday card, Ro! It was them. It was who they are. It was everything Rock and Roll and Love combined. Their card, told their story and no words were needed. Music. Tattoos. Dogs. Black. Dark. Edgy. But soft too. Smiles. And the best thing of all…. one of their little girls, is wearing a Santa Hat with little Devil Horns sticking out of the top. The exact kind of Santa Hat, I would have put you in Ronan. I smiled at this Christmas Card. It made my day.

We left for lunch after we composed ourselves. It was the kind of lunch where you find out you have a lot of things in common. Small town girls. Big city dreams, but small town girls at heart, forever. A love for nature. A belief in true love. How you both think, being a mom is the best thing ever. How you both believe in raising your kids in an open and honest world. Sometimes maybe a little too honest which others judge. You both tell those people, to fuck off. Because at the end of the day, you both know that as long as you are true to yourself and your family, nothing else matters. Because fucked up things happen everyday like kids dying. And you never know when everything could change in an instant. So you’d better make the best of this time by being true to where your heart leads you. Especially if it is wild and free. The best adventures are wild and free…. right baby? I know you knew this from the second you were born and it was the way you lived you life every single day. I cannot even begin to imagine the things you would have done in this world, Ronan….. had you been given the chance. At one point during lunch, my passion for you took over and I was blabbing about how I much I believe in you and how I refuse to do this any other way than the way that my heart is telling me to. The way, you are telling me to. I don’t remember exactly what I was saying, but Kristi looked at me and goes, “You remind me, so much of Bret.” This caught me off guard but in the best way possible. She then went on to tell me how if Bret would have listened to all the people in his life, telling him he was going nowhere, how he couldn’t sing, etc….. that he would have ended up a truck driver. He was told no, so many times. He didn’t listen. He kept going. He chased his dreams. He broke downs all the doors that were slammed in his face. He ignored all of the asshole people who for some sick and twisted reason, thrive on keeping others down. He is proof that if you believe in something enough, anything is possible. Anything. Even a cure for this fucking disease that killed you. A CURE. I said it. Dream big or go the fuck home.

After lunch, the 7 months since you left me lunch that actually turned out to be a beautiful day….. thank you, Kristi<3<3 I ran back to Dr. Jo’s. We had another little session with some of our lovelies, Ronan. I think they have been having a hard time…. trying so hard to understand all of this. They both just want to understand so badly what it is that I am going through…… and for as hard as they have been trying, I think they feel lost. I felt like Dr. Jo could make a little sense of this, more so than I can. I’m too caught up in it all. She is the expert not only experience, but education as well. Dr. Jo was sweet enough to meet with all of us, so she could listen to their concerns and she did her best to let them into the world that I now, live in. I think it was helpful. I hope it was to them. It was the least I could do. I know I say I want to be alone and push everyone away. Sometimes that is true. But some days it is not. I don’t want to lose everybody in this process. I want to make them understand even if it is just a tiny bit, without having to go through something like this. I don’t know if that is even possible, but I feel better knowing that I am trying when all I want to do is give up and not care. I care. I know I do. I’m too loving of a person, not to.

I took Mandy Bee barefoot hiking today with me. Because we are badass. I didn’t hike up the mountain. I ran. Barefoot. Take that, mother fucker cancer. I’d like to do it again, tomorrow. I didn’t feel a thing. Dr. Jo is leaving tonight for a week to a silent mediation retreat. I have been panicking. She sent me a text before she left. It said for me to please take good care of myself while she is gone. How she needs me as she can’t change this world, on her own. She’s not going to have to. You will help her, my bravest little boy. I know this.

Has this turned into a novel tonight or what? I’m sorry. That’s what I get for not keeping up with you. I hate the nights that I don’t write but my head has been a mess. I have much more to say, little one but I need to get some shut-eye. I’m feeling tired, which doesn’t happen naturally very often anymore. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe. I’ll forever be sorry.

G’nite baby doll.

xoxo

The Guest House
by Rumi

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Mandy the Owl, Ben with the Bald Head, and Bret the Rockstar

Ronan. I guess I’ve had a hard couple of days. So many things have happened. Everything seems to be moving so fast, yet so slow. I’ll have to catch you up on some things since it’s been a couple of days since I’ve written to you. I drove up to Sedona on Tuesday to see Dr. JoRo. I could have seen her here in Phoenix, later this week but I honestly like the drive up there and back. It’s my quiet time in the car. I don’ talk on the phone. Sometimes I listen to music. Sometimes I don’t. I am always thinking of you. I cry a lot. Here in Phoenix, I feel like I am constantly on the go. It’s a race that often leaves me exhausted and I don’t get to sit and be quiet much. I am still trying to find that happy medium of grieving for you and letting my self being absorbed in the pain; without slitting my wrists. Sometimes it hurts so much that I’m scared to sit and just let myself just be. Sometimes I don’t think I can handle the pain. I worry about what will come of it. My mind can slip into a very dark place, with the blink of an eye.

My time with Dr. JoRo was long. Grueling. Good. We talked about everything. I always find myself staring up at your pictures a lot that she has on her shelf of the thousands of books that she has read. I cried a lot. She cried too. We listened to a song together as the tears slid down both of our cheeks. There was a lot of crying. There was a lot of fucking fuck words used by the both of us. She is helping me with a little research as far as trying to figure out who we want to help fund treatments for Neuroblastoma. I don’t want any of this money to go towards a fancy hospital building and advertising. I don’t want this money to go towards building a wing of a hospital with your name on the fancy door. FUCK FANCY. This money has to go directly to the RESEARCH aspect of this disease. This money that we are trying to raise will go to the team that we believe in with our whole hearts and souls. The team that we feel will up the survival rate and ultimately, find a cure. This has to be a doctor/facility that is going about things differently. Because obviously what they are doing for this disease is NOT working. But they keep doing the same thing, over and over. If you survive Neuroblastoma, it’s by luck of the draw and nothing more. I have 2 doctors I am interested in. I’m putting their names out there tonight. Dr. Giselle Sholler and Dr. Yale Mosse. I know Dr. Mosse from Chop. She is the one who has a little piece of my heart due to her passion for finding a cure for the nasty disease. But her hands are tied by the COG. I am not a fan of the rules she has to play by. If anybody wants to throw info my way about Dr. Sholler, or anyone else, feel free to do so. I’ll take all the help I can get. I want to meet with them both. I want to see the evidence behind what they are doing, and why they think it is going to work.

Dr. Jo knows you shouldn’t have died. But you did. She is going to help me every way she possibly can. She is doing more than just saving my life. She is going to help me fight this Childhood Cancer nobody gives a fuck, BULLSHIT. We talked about your Foundation. She tried to tell me I didn’t have to do any of this if I didn’t want to. I looked at her, gave her a half-smile and told her that it wasn’t my choice anymore. I told her I am not choosing to do anything. For me, this is not something that I am choosing to do. It is something I HAVE to do; just like I have to breathe, to stay alive. She looked at me and said she knew I was going to say that, because she felt the exact same way, 17 years ago when her baby girl died and she was locked in a closet, going through the Yellow Pages, trying to find someone to help her get through losing her baby girl. There was nobody. She almost died from the pain. She swore to Chey if she lived through it, she would change this and help other parents. The MISS Foundation was born because of her pain and because she survived. She survived, Ro. And now look at all the people she is here, helping. She is saving the lives of so many parents who feel so alone. She is a walking billboard for surviving one of the worst thing that can happen to a person, but she still managed to come out the other side even more beautiful than before. Stronger. Smarter. Wiser. It changed her in a way that a person never wants to be changed. As sick as it is, the death of her child has turned Dr. Jo into someone who fucking lives on this earth, walking on water. I know she doesn’t feel this way, as she is so ridiculously humble. But this is the way I see her. To me, that woman walks on water while cussing up a storm which makes me love her even more.

After I got home from a really long Sedona day, I had a meeting to go to for your Foundation. We had to choose some new board members. As of now, our board is really small and intimate. I want it to stay this way. I need the people on it, who have walked through hell and back with me. Who you knew and loved because they are family. My sisters. The board meeting was VERY formal which was so weird to me. I got about half way through it but then my head started spinning. I lost it. In the middle of everything, I buried head on the table, in my arms, and just started bawling. I felt the hands of Fernanda and Tricia rubbing my back. I stayed that way for a few minutes. Then I just got up and bolted out of the restaurant, crying, crying and crying. Just like that. You know what I wanted to do? I wanted to run really, really, really far away. To the most dangerous neighborhood in Phoenix. I wanted to run out in the middle of traffic to get him by a car. I decided the boots I was wearing were too cute to ruin, so I sat down on a bench instead. I sat and soon Fernanda came and sat down with me. She sat and held my hand and pressed it up against the locket that I gave to her with some of your ashes in it. She kept asking me where I was. Where my head was. I couldn’t even answer her. I just sat and cried. I think we sat there for about 20 minutes. I ended up trying to gather my thoughts. The fact that I was sitting around that table last night, talking about you, like you were a business made me sick to my stomach. It was too much for me to handle and I went into it, completely blindsided. I felt like I was being beaten to a pulp. I felt like my insides were being ripped out. I felt like I wanted to just die. I went home, after that meeting, looked at Warden Woody and said, “Give me a fucking Ambien.” He tried to argue. I wasn’t having it. The running off of 5 hours of sleep, for the past 3 days was caching up with me. After yesterday and last night, I couldn’t do another night of tossing and turning. I popped that little Devil and it was lights out until 7 a.m.

Today. Groundhogs day, all over again. Met a Lovie for coffee. Cried. Our lovie, cried too. Talked. Cried. Made some promises. Took a drive with her. It felt nice. Ran to meet Miss Mandy Bee for lunch. She came wearing her Owl SPIRIT HOOD because she is that crazy, that she thinks she is a Goddamn Owl, in real life. And we are both that weird that we like to wear our animal Spirit Hoods, everywhere, just the way you and I did. I’m wearing yours now, as I sit here and write. We sat outside at America’s Taco Shop. Mandy had some exciting news about getting the word out there about you. Just as we were in the middle of talking about you and I was starting to tell her what bullshit this is, that you died of this disease because nobody’s voice has been powerful enough to make the fucking world stop and LISTEN. Why the fuck does this have to be me? This should have been somebody else, 5 years ago and then you would not have to be fucking DEAD. I started to get really upset. I started throwing a pity party to Miss Mandy Bee. Why me? Why him? I don’t want this. I want this to all go away. I want him back. I don’t want to stay on this earth. I want to die. I don’t want to fucking do this. Just as I was saying those words, Ronan…..He appeared. Outside. On the patio where Mandy Bee and I were. Ben. What the fuck. Somebody is clearly messing with me, Ronan. Ben with the Bald Head. I looked at Mandy. I seriously thought I was dreaming. Mandy watched me, she grabbed my hand. Do you want to leave, she asked? No, I said. His Dad came and sat down and said Hello. His mom came out next. She looked at me and said, “You’re Maya, right?” I said indeed I was. She asked if I remembered her from the clinic. I had forgotten her face. But I remembered Ben’s. I stood up to give her a hug. Her husband hugged me as well. We sat and talked. They looked sad. They looked scared. Ben looked beautiful. I wanted to eat him up. I wanted to spend my whole day getting lost in his dimples while kissing the top of his bald head. His mom kept saying she felt like they were upsetting me. I was upset alright, but it wasn’t for the reason that I think she thought it was. I was upset because just 10 minutes before they arrived, I sat and bitched that none of what I was doing, mattered because you are gone. I gave into the selfish Maya that sometimes comes out because the bottom line is, YOU ARE DEAD. But Ben is not. Ben is here. Ben is still fighting. Ben saved me today. I know that was a sign from you, Ronan. That was too much of of coincidence, for it not to have been. That was your way of communicating with me. That was your way of saying, “Hey Mama! Don’t give up! I’m right by you, helping you. Mama, you have to be the loud voice now. You have to take everything you are doing and keep going, for all the other kids out there. For all the other kids who deserve a future. For me, because this is what we were meant to do, together.” Ben was you today. And Ben was exactly what I needed at that exact moment. I know it was you. Thanks, Ro. I’ll keep on truckin’ until the world turns into a sea of Gold for SEPTEMBER. But PURPLE, for you. Ben gave me a big hug goodbye. I kissed the top of his head. It reminded me so much of yours.

I spent the rest of the day, lost in what had happened at the Taco Shop. I ran over to Katie’s store. I was sitting at the counter, with my computer, doing some things. Christy and Katie were behind the counter, working. Pandora was on, as always. As I was sitting there, one of your favorite songs started to play. Angus and Julia Stone, “Big Jet Plane.” I sat there, stunned. I looked up and said to the girls, “This was Ronan’s favorite song.” I covered my face and started to cry. Christy asked if I wanted her to turn it off. I told her no. About halfway through the song, my phone rang. Of course it did. Was this you too? How does this always happen, every time I seem to be having a really hard moment? Our favorite lovie always knows when to call.

I picked up. I said one word.

“Hello.”

“Why are you crying?”

-how the fuck does he know i’m crying?? all i did was say hello.

“I’m not. I’m fine. I don’t know.”
– i start to cry, harder.

“What’s going on? Yes, you are, cut the bullshit and tell me what’s going on. Please.”

fuck. why can’t i ever pull the wool over our lovie’s eyes? i don’t want to say why i’m crying. but i did.

I think it went something like this……”Because I’m sad. Because of the song on the radio. Because of the board meeting where Ronan is a business. Because I miss him. Because of Ben at America’s Taco Shop. Because of Thanksgiving. Because I have to fucking survive Thanksgiving. Because I don’t know how I’m going to get through it. Because I haven’t slept. Because I want him back. Because I JUST WANT HIM BACK.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, darling.”

I don’t remember much more of the conversation. But by the time it was over, I had stopped crying. It was enough. It was like an invisible hug, from you.

I left to pick your brothers up from school. Quinn had a sore throat so I had made him a doctor’s appointment earlier in the day. I stopped to feed your brothers, before our appointment since we didn’t have time to go home. I went into Jack and the Box while your brothers waited in the car. It was pretty empty. There was a man at the counter. You could tell he was homeless. He was dressed as nice as he could possibly be. His shirt was tucked into his pants. He was older, probably in his 60’s. He was pulling out coupons to pay for his 3 dollar meal. He smelled awful. He needed a haircut and a shave. He was hungry. I could tell he was so very hungry. I waited my turn. I watched this man with the kind, sad eyes. He didn’t seem to notice me. I watched as he paid for his food. I watched the way he sucked down his drink like he had not had anything to drink, in days. I’m ashamed to say, in my old life I probably would have felt sad for this man, told myself you are so lucky, Maya. But it is very possible I would have just looked the other way while counting my blessings. Not today. Today, I wanted nothing more but to take this man home. Feed him. Let him shower. Give him clean clothes and a bed to sleep in. I wanted to sob for this man. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but I knew it wasn’t going to be nothing. I paid for my food. I watched the man, standing at a table, putting his coupons away. I took out one of your cards. I wasn’t sure how do approach this man, as I didn’t want to offend him. I walked over to the table that he was sitting at. I gave him one of the cards with your picture on it. I handed him a 20 dollar bill. He looked at me and said, “No. No. Really? Is it that obvious?” I simply said, “No. Not at all. This is not from me. This is from my son. He died of cancer. He wants you to eat.” The man tried not to accept my 20 bucks. You could tell he wanted it, but you could tell he was also a man who still had a pinch of dignity left. He told me thank you. He told me that I should save my 20 dollars and give it to the humane society. I told him I didn’t want to save an animal.(sorry. i’m am a animal lover. but these days, kids with cancer just tug at my heart a little more. today, this hungry man, tugged at my heart a lot more) I told him to please take the 20 bucks. I told him to go and do something kind for someone else. He promised he would. I believe him. He told me, that he had just spent his last 3 dollars, on his meal. I am such a skeptic of human beings, Ro; but not today. Today, I believed this man. Today, I believed in the human spirit and I believe that, because of you. It’s days like today that I know that you are making me a better person than I could have ever imagined. It’s days like today that I realized that I need to stop fighting all the little gifts you are leaving me because I know they truly do exist. And I know I am worthy of receiving them. I know they won’t bring you back but I know they will keep you alive.

I have to go now, Ro. Too tired. Too sad. Too much. I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry. I hope you are safe. I love you to the moon and back, baby boy.

One last thing. But not a little thing. A HUGE thing. Bret Michaels. Bret Michaels the kick ass Rockstar who is the genius behind the band, Poison. Bret Michaels went on the Regis and Kelly show today. He wore your F U Cancer bracelet, Ro. He is spreading the word about you. Can you believe this???? I am in awe. We so need people like this, behind your cause. We so need a voice for Childhood Cancer. Education=Awareness and Awareness=CURES. People have to start listening. Because of what that man did today, they are going to listen. I have a feeling the gorgeous woman in his life, had a little something to do with this as well. It takes a strong family united, to get things done. Today, they did this, for us. For YOU. For all the other parents and kiddos out there who have been forced into this nightmare. For all the parents and kids out there who are helpless and so scared. He helped us all today and I wonder if he has any idea, how much it means? How this could really get the ball rolling and start changing things. Because babies/kids/teens need to stop being fucking MURDERED by Childhood Cancer. So Mr. Kickass Rockstar Bret Michaels. Thank you from the bottom of Ronan’s wild and free heart. I know you know that all good things, truly are wild and free. You are an amazing man. And gorgeous Kristy. Thank you for being the raddest wild and free mama, behind this man by doing something so selfless and kind. You two, are amazing.

Ro baby. Did you ever in your life think that for only being almost 4, that you would have so much power? I always knew this. Your beauty alone moved mountains while you were among the living. Now look what it’s doing and you’re not even here, Ro. You are that special, beautiful, and magical. You will always be mine. And I will always, be yours. Forever. I love you.

I wish cancer got cancer and died

Ronan. Night is setting in. Another day gone without you here. It was as good of a day as I could have possibly made it. It’s just me here with your brothers. No breaks, no running, no time to sit in a corner and cry about missing you. The show must go on. We all slept in. I had a hard time getting to sleep last night, even with my Ambien. My mind was racing with thoughts of you and I felt as though I couldn’t breathe. I felt as if I was going to have a full fledged panic attack right here in my bed. I stayed as calm as I possibly could and talked myself down from the ledge. I actually just started counting in my head. Counting until everything went black and I fell into my dreamless, medicated, state of sleep. I woke up to the sound of your brothers. I got up as soon as I heard them as I knew that this was not a day to hide in my bed because I am the adult here. I am the only one around to take care of them. I went straight into mommy mode. Late breakfast made, dishes and laundry done, had them do some work in their workbooks, packed up our beach bag and headed outside with them. We played football for about an hour in the sand. I broke up the fights and arguing over plays. At one point, Liam told me I cheated at the game. I laughed at this and told him it was impossible to cheat at a game you were playing, when you didn’t know the rules. All this football talk had my head spinning and I was penalized for a play that I had no idea about. I was a good sport, but geez! That brother of yours, Liam, is a competitive little kid. He was so serious about the game. Quinn did his usual laughing at everything and Liam ended up tackling him to the ground and proceeded to throw sand in his face. That was the end of the football game.

Quinn wanted to swim in the pool but Liam did not. I took Quinn up to swim as I watched Liam from the pool, digging in the sand all by himself. It made me sad. He didn’t stay at the beach long and soon came to join us at the pool. I swam and played Marco Polo with them, I let them both get on my shoulders as we splashed around in the water. I got out after a while to warm up. That’s when I saw him. The little boy who looked like a carbon copy of you, except with dark hair. He had your same piercing blue eyes and delicate features. He was in the little pool, that you swam in just 2 years ago and he was about your same age then. I almost threw up as I watched him do the same things you did in that pool. He jumped off the edge, into the water, completely fearless just as you were. He threw a toy my way and I bent down to get it for him as the Nanny apologized in Spanish. The dad sat on the sidelines, working away on his laptop. I started to cry and it took everything I had not to walk up to that dad and ask him to please just open his eyes and to play with his little boy. Not out of judgement, but out of the sheer innocence and beauty of watching his baby boy play so carefree and innocently. It was such a painful gift for me to see today. I swore as if I was staring at you. This was me, 2 years ago, in that pool, playing with you. I sat there and watched the little boy for a good 15 minutes and then decided that I couldn’t take anymore. I gathered up your brothers and we headed upstairs to the condo. I took a shower, told them to get dressed so we could go out to dinner. They didn’t want to go, but I had to get off of this island for a bit.

We ended up at a pizza restaurant and Quinn said he had remembered being there with you last year. He was right. His memory amazes me. I sat with your brothers and we talked about a lot of things. About life, about you, about the importance of things. I asked them what the most important things in life to them are. They both said you. I said yes, they were right. I also told them about the importance of helping others and the importance of always taking care of each other. I told them how lucky they were to have one another. It was a nice dinner with them.

After dinner, I took them to Target to spend their money that they have saved up from their birthday. We decided to get some movies to watch tonight. As we were leaving Target, your brothers were smiling and so full of giggles. They both told me thank you and Liam stood up on his tippy toes to give me a kiss on the lips. I was instantly taken aback by the happiness I saw in his eyes. He has missed me. I have missed him. I tried to let myself get caught up in the moment but I just couldn’t let go of the pain. I’m constantly fighting with the pain that refuses to leave my side, even with the beautiful Target moment that happened tonight.

Once we got back home, we popped in a movie. “Little Fockers.” All 3 of us thought it was funny and you know what a sucker I am for that Robert De Niro guy. I told your brothers all about him and how they could watch one of my favorite movies, “Casino,” when they turned 15. They wanted to know what they couldn’t watch it now. I told them because it wasn’t appropriate for their little eyes or ears. They have plenty of time to learn about the amazingness of Robert De Niro. All in due time, my little one.

All is quiet here except for the screaming inside of my head. Everything I did today took so much energy and effort on my part. Trying to nurture two little boys, when you have absolutely nothing to give, is hard. I mean really hard. I gave it my all today. I gave them everything I had which seemed to be more than enough. I made sure they both had a good day and put myself on hold. I don’t have a choice right now. For this week, while your daddy is gone and I am alone with the boys, I have to put myself on hold. I cannot stay in bed all day, I cannot scream, cry, or break dishes. Thank god that I am a calm person by nature. I never knew how much that would really pay off for me in life. It certainly has now. If I didn’t have my calmness, I would be totally screwed. Speaking of calm and screwed.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!FUCK YOU,CANCER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah. I’ve kind of been holding that in all day. I haven’t be able to run in a couple of days so that needed to come out. It almost made me feel better, but not really. I’m still on this Neuroblastoma website that is kind of like a support group for parents. I get emailed with things during the day as the questions go to everyone who is in the group. Sometimes parents are asking for advice on treatments, hospitals, doctors, sometimes new children are asking to be prayed for, sometimes prayers are asked for kids like you, Ro, when you were close to death. I cannot seem to unsubscribe to this server list and as much as I’ve tried not to…. I may be borderline obsessed with it. When I see a kid on there, same as you, Stage 4, I’ll go over all the details and protocols that they are doing than I’ll usually end up screaming at your daddy, “Why didn’t we do this?” I know this is not healthy, but I’m like a freaking crack addict except my drug of choice is Neuroblastoma. A mom called me from this list and has asked me advice for her son, who I sat across from at Sloan. Her little boy, Jaxon is not doing well. I told her to get contact Dr. Gisele Sholler to get him started on the Nifurtimox trial asap. His disease is progressing rapidly and he is having a hard time walking. Sounds so much like you. She also asked me about the radiation to help his pain. I told her to start that ASAP. We have all learned that time is the last thing on your fucking side with this disease. I also told her about Dr. Mosse at Chop. Because she is a GODDESS and Neuroblastoma should be scared to death of that woman. I have a feeling about her and the way she is going to revolutionize the treatment for this disease. I hope that woman gets everything and more in her life that she has ever wanted. I know you will be watching out for her, Ro. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes when she had to tell us you couldn’t do the treatment because your MIBG activity was too active and because of how full your bone marrow was again. She locked eyes with mine and wouldn’t let go all while having to deliver the most awful news. I’ll never forget anything about that day. The rain that started for a few minutes after she told us. Daddy’s tears. Me, who could do nothing. I couldn’t cry because Daddy was crying and I had to hold it together for him. It was only later, after I left the room to talk to Dr. Mosse about some other questions that I had that I allowed myself to cry a little. FUCK. That quality of life word kept coming up. What the fuck does that even mean?? I had just gotten so used to all the cancer lingo and now this new word was being thrown in my face over and over again. It seemed like a nice little term, all wrapped up in a pretty package, and then you go to unwrap the bow, and “POP!!” That big “quality of life,” word is basically a nice way of saying “You’re FUCKED.” Well, that’s my interpretation of it at least. I’m not here to sugar coat anything, people. I’m not here to tippy toe around the fact that everyone knew we were fucked, but you know you can’t give up on that whole “HOPE,” thing. Even I couldn’t give up on it until that Mother’s Day when I knew your little body was failing you, Ro. It was too late to get you to San Diego. Our time had run out. FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK. I am so sorry. You know I would have taken you to Switzerland if I could have. We would have taken you anywhere. But your little body couldn’t take it anymore. I know your soul wanted to fight on, but we had to listen and respect what your body wanted us to do. And it was tired. And you were tired. And it was time for you to just go to sleep; just like I asked.

I don’t remember how I even got started rambling on and on about the above things. I’m waiting for the day that all of you lovelies just up and disappear because 1) You’re going to get tired of hearing me talk about the same things over and over 2) because you just want to go on with your happy lives or 3) because this story is just too sad and dark, or I use too many swear words. If number 3) applies to you, then peace the fuck out. Somebody sent me a super rude email a few days ago. I’m going have to start a file for “The Haters.” It said things like…..” You are embarrassing yourself and your friends aren’t telling you the truth. You need to stop writing and write in a journal, because everyone I know has stopped reading what you are writing. And the people who are reading, are not moms. It is a joke that they are telling you how amazing you are.” I took the time to tell her, obviously she didn’t know any of my true friends, because that was bullshit and to also tell her that I’m glad she stopped reading this as well as her friends because this was not the right blog for them. They need to go seek out a blog about Unicorns, Butterfly’s, and Puppies. Then go blow it out their asses. You don’t like this reality? You don’t like these swear words? You don’t like my truth? The truth that anyone in my situation would be thinking in their heads, but are too scared to put it out there. Ohhhhh…. my bad. I’m so sorry to have offended you with all this reality. A reality, sometimes a death sentence that is handed out every year in the form of 12,500 babies, toddler, kids, teenagers. Yes, Yes, I agree. Let’s choose to ignore this and go back on living inside of our little bubble. I totally get what kind of people you are and I want NOTHING to do with you.

Through all of my pain, sadness, ranting, raving, anger, and swear words, will come something beautiful… I promise. Right now, I am thinking about the Butterfly Life Cycle. I feel as if now, I am in my little egg. In hideout… but plotting a plan. I will soon move into the Catepillar stage…. becoming somebody stronger and new….. I will then go into the Pupa Stage, where I will build my protective shield and completely transform. I will then burst with color while becoming the beautiful butterfly that I know exists inside of me. This beautiful butterfly will revile herself when the time is right and the perfect plan is in place to do some major ass kicking to cancers ass. This beautiful butterfly will still say the word, “FUCK,” when she feels like it though. Deal with it or go away. You have no idea how hard it is to go though what we are going through, even as you read this blog and think you do. If you don’t like what I’m writing, stop being offended and stop reading. Then go volunteer at a hospital in the Oncology Unit for a month and I will be waiting with open arms as you run back and tell me how sorry you are. Or go volunteer and feel nothing. No judgement there at all. But my arms will no longer be open to you. Go home and live your little sheltered life and forget about these beautiful children who have cancer or have died from it. Forget about Ronan. I dare you .

Also, the reason I don’t write in a journal and I choose to share all of this with all of you 1,248million and something people….. I started this as a way to keep everyone updated on Ronan. It started off that way for a while, but then this force kind of came in and took over. This blog pretty much took on a life of its own and being honest and open about everything felt good to me. It was therapeutic and I feel like I have such beautiful story to tell with Ronan; for as ugly as it may be…. just writing out his name for you all to read is beautiful enough to me. I want you to feel my pain, his pain, I want you to be inspired, sad, mad, offended, thankful, scared, educated,….. I want you to live this through me because I know Ronan will make you all better people, better moms, more appreciative, he will teach you the true meaning of life. If, you want his lessons that is. Free will here. Nobody is forcing anything. My ultimate goal is to have you all on our side when we raise awareness for Ronan and Neuroblastoma. Anyway you can help, whatever little thing you can do, even if it just means wearing his bracelet, commenting on my blog, or spreading his story around. That is such a beautiful gift to me. The power of people can be very persuasive. I believe we can make something amazing come from Ronan’s death, make him so proud and celebrate the way we did after we finished “Round 5,” of his chemo. It was just the two of us at home, celebrating. He ran out to the garage to the refrigerator where we keep our Gatorade, sodas, and beers. He came running back in, so excited with 2 cold Coors Lights in his hands. He goes, “Here mama!” “Cheers!” I was so shocked but it was so innocent and cute and he was so excited. I took those 2 Coors Lights in the middle of the day and opened them for us. We both took a couple of sips and then went on with our Star Wars Game. I’ll never forget that day. He seriously was so much older than 3. That boy always loved his beer. So much that Woody would have to hide it from him. Little devil.

I know Ronan. I know you were here for such a short time to teach me some things. Because I have learned so much in such a short amount of time from you. I’m just getting started. I can’t wait to see what journey you have planned out now for me. It is all in your hands. Everything that happens from here on out is due to you. You loved me too much to just walk away, to just leave me behind. We were one. We are one. I’ll follow you into the dark. I’ll follow you to China if that’s where we need to go. I’d much prefer Thailand though….. can you throw me some signs to get me there:) Let’s do this baby boy. Together forever. Your little body was just a shell, it was the most beautiful shell that ever lived on this earth but you know what is even more amazing? The soul that lives outside of that shell. So light, so free, so happy because you get to take care of all of us. You always wanted to be the boss and we pretty much let you. I promise to make you proud, Ronan. I know you would have not been offended by my potty mouth. Words are words. If anything we should turn the world CANCER into a swear word. That is the most offensive word that exists.

OK BABY. This may have turned into a little crazy night for you with all my blabbing about this and that. And no wonder they say you should never operate a car on this Ambien shit! You should not even be allowed to write on a blog on it! Whatever. Power to the Peeps of The Rockstar Ronan Fan Club. Whomever chooses to stick about, they are your truest fans. I’m not going to stop fighting until some drastic improvements come about and someday a cure is found. This is my promise to you RO. For you and all the other kids fighting for their lives. After this summer, it’s time to get our plan in place. Soccer mom by day. Maya’s Mafia by night.

I love you, Ro. My little “not spicy,” monkey blue eyed brad pitt baby boy who would melt you with one of his infamous winks. Sweet dreams angel. I hope you are safe. You are forever loved.

Childhood cancers are the #1 disease killer of children – more than asthma, cystic fibrosis, diabetes, and pediatric AIDS combined.
Childhood cancer is not a single disease, but rather many different types that fall into 12 major categories. Common adult cancers are extremely rare in children, yet many cancers are almost exclusively found in children.
Childhood Cancers are cancers that primarily affect children, teens, and young adults. When cancer strikes children and young adults it affects them differently than it would an adult.
Attempts to detect childhood cancers at an earlier stage, when the disease would react more favorably to treatment, have largely failed. Young patients often have a more advanced stage of cancer when first diagnosed. (Approximately 20% of adults with cancer show evidence the disease has spread, yet almost 80% of children show that the cancer has spread to distant sites at the time of diagnosis).
Cancer in childhood occurs regularly, randomly, and spares no ethnic group, socioeconomic class, or geographic region.
The cause of most childhood cancers are unknown and at present, cannot be prevented. (Most adult cancers result from lifestyle factors such as smoking, diet, occupation, and other exposure to cancer-causing agents).

One in every 330 Americans will develop cancer by the age of 20. On the average, 12,500 children and adolescents in the U.S. are diagnosed with cancer each year.
On the average, 1 in every 4 elementary school has a child with cancer. The average high school has two students who are a current or former cancer patient. In the U.S., about 46 children and adolescents are diagnosed with cancer every weekday.
While the cancer death rate has dropped more dramatically for children than for any other age group, 2,300 children and teenagers will die each year from cancer.
Childhood leukemia (making up the largest group of childhood cancers) was once a certain death sentence, but now can be cured almost 80% of the time.
Today, up to 75% of the children with cancer can be cured, yet, some forms of childhood cancers have proven so resistant to treatment that, in spite of research, a cure is illusive.
Several childhood cancers continue to have a very poor prognosis, including: brain stem tumors, metastatic sarcomas, relapsed acute lymphoblastic leukemia, and relapsed non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.

Not a kissing day

I sat here at The Ryan House all day with Ronan, rubbing his little leg that is hurting him so badly. We had a lot of visitors in and out. Ronan slept most of the day while I had the chance to sit in our room and see a lot of friends and family. I was hardly awake when Niki came by. She sat by me on my bed and held me while I sobbed in her arms as I knew I would the minute I saw here. She brings out the raw emotion in me for some reason. I held on to her and stroked her insanely gorgeous red, wavy hair that I am so in love with. After I let go, she sat by me and rubbed my back and I think I fell asleep again. Her visit was so peaceful. I had lots of other visitors…. Melissa, Patty, Sarah, Auntie Karen, my Aunt Sheri, my sweet cousin, Shannon, my mom, Jim, Liz, Olivia, Luke, Heidi, Stacy, Fernanda, Tricia, Tiffany, Dr. Maze, Katie, Addison, Lane, and I think a few more of the cousins. It was busy here but Ronan didn’t seem to mind.

I spent a lot of the day, curled up with Ronan, thinking, thinking, thinking. It’s not a fun place to be right now. Woody and I met with a doctor today about getting Ronan in over at St. Joe’s tomorrow to do radiation on his legs. It will be a one time treatment, and we are hoping it will subside his pain. The pain medication he is on is just not cutting it. Woody and I both decided he can handle it as we know how strong he is on the inside. It will be fast and painless and we are praying it will give him a little relief. The pain is swallowing him whole as he cannot even move out of bed and even me carrying him to the bathroom is torture to my little guy. I cannot just stand back and do nothing if there is a chance this may help him.

Woody has also been in contact with Dr. Sholler from Vermont. She has a trial that has opened up and I am not going to say much as of now; but if we can get Ronan comfortable enough with his pain, we are talking about making the trip out to San Diego to start this 5 day treatment. We have sat all day and weighed our options. I get that my first priority is keeping Ronan comfortable, peaceful, and happy. But as of now, he is none of those things. I am not foolish and I am not unrealistic. My child is dying right before my very eyes. I do believe in the power of miracles, but our miracle is not going to come in the form of him, lying in this bed, while I sit back and do nothing. I know that God is not going to open up the heavens above and heal my baby. This cancer is going to eat his little body alive and as of now, I am just sitting back and watching that happen. That to me, is not acceptable. I am loving him with everything I have; but if someone out there is willing to take a chance on Ronan, I believe I have to take it. His miracle is going to come in the form of medicine combined with the power of prayers. But prayers alone are not going to save Ronan.

Woody and I have not made any decisions as of yet. Obviously we have to weigh the pros and cons very carefully. But as I said in the beginning, I am not going down without a fight and neither is Ronan. It is just not in our nature. By sitting here and doing nothing, I feel like we are not fighting if there is even the smallest chance that this treatment could help Ronan in any way possible. If this doctor ends up telling us no, than we will accept the time left we have with Ronan. If I know in my heart that Ronan is ready to give up, then I will not push him. I know he is not there yet… I know the soul and spirit of my child and he is not ready to go down so easily. How can I possibly give up on that if there is the slightest ray of hope? It is eating me alive just sitting here, and doing nothing. Loving him is not enough if I can still be fighting for him and his life. I cannot let him go yet. I still feel in my heart that it is not his time.

So, the word inhumane has come up a couple times tonight. I’ve decided it’s a word that should not be associated with parents who are fighting for the life of their child with all they have. I believe to do otherwise is inhumane. We only want what is best for our son and we are struggling to figure it out. We as parents do know that we have to know in our hearts that we have done everything possible for Ronan. Even if the outcome turns out the same. So, as parents we will take the next few days, to watch Ronan carefully and make the decision that we feel is best for our family. If we do decide that enough is enough, it will be because Ronan has led us to that decision. This is still his journey, his life, and we will respect that. But it will not be without exhausting every possibility. We do not want to put him though anymore, but how do you give up when there still may be a chance???? I don’t think that you do. I know my child better than anyone, and today when I tried to kiss him and he yelled at me that “It’s not kissing day!” I knew right then and there that his little feisty spirit still exists. It’s my job as a mom and as the adult to help Ronan fight for I know what is in his soul. He does not want to leave us; he does not want to be anywhere else. We deserve our son, Liam and Quinn deserve their brother, and I am not throwing in the towel. I know this disease well enough now to know that things can change in an instant. I just pray that they change in an instant for the better and not for the worse for us.

We will start off tomorrow of a CT scan of Ronan’s little body, that is so badly beaten up and bruised. We will then do his RT without his anesthesia. I talked to him about it tonight and he said he will do it and make Dr. Maze proud and not need any sleepy medicine. The only thing I worry about is keeping him comfortable enough. I know he can do it, he will push through the pain if he has to. This is something no child should ever have to go through and I am beyond sick about it. Looking at Ronan’s banged up body makes me shutter. Listening to the sounds of his screams from the pain is something I will never be able to get out of my head. I swear to god on my life I will fucking live long enough to see a cure for this awful disease. I swear to god I will do whatever I can to help find a cure so no child has to suffer the way I have had to watch my son suffer. No child deserves this pain and no parent deserves this heartbreak.

That’s all for tonight my peeps. Sweet dreams to you all. G’nite my Fernanda. I miss you so much already.

xoxo

Music to my ears

I’m feeling peaceful tonight. Today, was a very good day in terms of victories for Ronan. It started off with his little words this morning, “Mom, I have to poop.” Praise the freaking lord. It’s been 5 days of him not pooping and we have been giving him Miralax around the clock. I full on had a pooping party dance after my little man did his job. Victory! He was up most of the day, although still in a lot of pain. This morning, our sweet, “A,” from the clinic came by. She sat with us for a while and Ronan normally kicks everyone out, but he was so calm while she was here. He connects with her. Playroom Kathy from PCH also came by with so many Star Wars toys and the most beautiful Star Wars quilt which I am assuming she made. Kathy, it is so gorgeous. Ronan has been playing with his Star Wars guys on it all day. Love you so much. Thank you for sharing your smile with me today. I’m only sorry Ro missed it due to him sleeping. My sweet friend, Kristen, Kati, and Olivia came by as well. It was good to see them all. The usual peeps were here too. My mom, Jim, Luke, Heidi, Liam, Mimi, Papa, Auntie Karen, Trish, Stacy, Fernanda, Gay, and Pam. Christy and Heidi stopped by too with a ton of food. I’m feeling a little braver about seeing people so I ventured outside of our room. Ronan is so loved. I’ve never seen so much love for one little boy in my entire life. It makes me feel so happy.

We have been talking to Dr. Sholler about some other treatment options. I told you we are exhausting anything possible. We are talking about doing radiation on his leg. I’m not giving up yet if there is even the smallest amount of hope. I won’t travel far with him, but if this doctor is willing to see us in San Diego, we are talking about making the trip. We may start radiation tomorrow on his leg. Anything to help him with his pain. We are not committing to anything yet, as we know what the odds are. But we are not willing to close the door just yet. Ronan wants to be here with us and we are going to continue to fight hard for him until he lets us know otherwise. I will know, as his mama, when it is time to let go. It’s not time yet.

I got out for a bit tonight. I was nervous about it but Woody insisted it was fine. I had the chance to call back a couple of people. My angel, Charisma, is flying in this weekend for a quick visit even though she is bombarded with auditions. YAY FOR THAT!!!! Both her coming, and the auditions that are coming her way. I cannot wait to see her and am so grateful that she knows how much it means to me to see her. I called back my other dear friend, Susie, who lives in Colorado. All I had to do was say the words and she is now coming in for a quick visit this weekend as well. I don’t know how much time we have left with Ronan. Could be days, weeks, months….. praying for forever. Regardless, it means a lot to me to have those two see him. It will be good for me as well. It felt good to be out, tonight, breathing in the fresh air, as I sat outside with my dear friend who brings me much peace and comfort. I even managed to eat a taco for him.

I came back to the Ryan house and Ronan has just finished his platelet transfusion. Luke and Quinn were in the room with him and we all sat around together while Luke played music from my iPad for Ronan. Luke was being his normal, very animated self, and was singing and dancing out loud. I could not believe my ears when I heard giggles coming from Ronan. He has not laughed in at least a week. It was all thanks to Luke. I about started bawling. My baby boy is still in there. As much as he is hurting, he so badly wants to come back to us. I heard it in his laugh tonight. I will never forget that moment. Luke has been such a gift to us during this time. He brings our family so much happiness, especially Ronan. He is sleeping over at The Ryan House tonight, as well as the twins. We all need to be together as much as possible.

I’m tired tonight and as I said, I’m feeling somewhat peaceful. I’m going to try to get a little bit of sleep before Dr. Maze and everyone else kicks my ass. I’m not taking my sleeping medicine anymore, but tonight I feel like I can maybe sleep without them.

Somebody posted me this comment on my blog tonight. Loved it and wanted to share. Thank you, friend whom I do not know.

I read your latest blog “the next person that tells me…” I just want to say Sorry for those of us that are inconsiderate with our words and try to say things to make us feel better before we think of how they may affect you. I share your blogs on my facebook and ask my friends to pray for you. I wear a bracelet daily so when I see it I remember to pray for you often. My heart aches for you. My sister recently lost her granddaughter and posted this comment about people speaking, I thought you would appreciate it. She added your comment to her previous post to reiterate the impact of commenting before we think about it.

Before you speak…
by Connie Phelan Iddings on Tuesday, May 3, 2011 at 12:00pm
“Everything happens for a reason.You were given this because you were strong enough to handle this. God has a greater plan for your child. Your child wants to go home, where he belongs in Heaven, so just let him go. At least you had as long as you did with her and you have other grandchildren, at least you can be grateful for that. You’ll be a better, stronger person because of all of this. ”

These are comments given to a Mother whose child is battling for his life and to other Mother’s and Grandmother’s who have lost their babies.

Think about it. Seriously. Stop and think about it. To a Mom and to a Grandma, there simply does not exist any justifiable “reason” for our babies to suffer and die.

I am sure that God is taking care of our babes, but when you say God had a better plan, what exactly are you implying? That we somehow didn’t deserve our children-our parenting plan didn’t suffice while millions of others did? That God handpicked our babies to pluck out of our arms because he had a better plan? God is not cruel. His plan is to bless and not to harm us. (Jeremiah 29:11) I’m pretty sure it had very little to do with “God’s perfect plan.” I like how William P. Young author of The Shack puts it,

“Just because I work incredible good out of unspeakable tragedies doesn’t mean I orchestrate the tragedies. Don’t
ever assume that my using something means I caused it or that I need it to accomplish my purposes. That will only lead you to false notions about me. Grace doesn’t depend on suffering to exist, but where there is suffering you will find grace in many facets and colors.”

Never tell a parent their child is better off or tell a mother that her child wanted to leave her even to go to heaven, it’s like sticking a knife in her already broken heart. We don’t want our children to suffer. No good mother does. But, to add guilt to her grief by suggesting she is being selfish for going to any and every length to help her child survive and for wanting to hold onto her child as long as absolutely possible is unforgivable.

Don’t think for one moment that we aren’t eternally grateful for every millisecond of time we were given. Whether it is a few moments, or decades it matter not, our baby is now gone. We are grateful for all the yesterdays but we still want the tomorrow’s. We want our children with us today, right now and would give absolutely anything to have them.

Don’t get us wrong, we love and are grateful for all our children and grandchildren that are still with us, as we’ll also be for those we’ll be blessed with in the future, but that does not diminish our love or desire for those lost.

Please never, ever tell a grieving Parent or Grandparent that they will be stronger, better people because of the death of their child. No one wants to benefit from the death of a child. We know you mean well, but it plants thoughts in our mind like, “What if I was a stronger and better person to begin with? Would my baby have been spared?” Is that your intention? I highly doubt it.

Before you speak, pause to hug us and think. Tell us you are sorry. Let us cry and talk as much and as often about our baby without being made to feel guilty that you feel uncomfortable. Please don’t tell us that you think it is time we move on, leave that to the well-trained therapists. Our grief may remind you that we live in a world where children die before they are suppose to; a fact you may want to forget, but we don’t want anyone to forget our babies. We also don’t want anyone else to suffer needlessly if there is anything we can do about it. Therefore, we will keep talking about our children and about their death if we think it will help someone. It is important for everyone that we do.

We know it is difficult. Believe me, we know! We understand most people have no idea what to say or that some things are far more hurtful to say than they ever realized. I tell you now so that you will know. I, myself most likely said these very statements in an attempt to comfort others in their grief and offer answers for questions we all have, that there are simply no answers to-at least for now.

I close with a statement from a grieving Mother, “I love you all as always, as long as you don’t say any of those idiotic things…to me. Even if you think them, please don’t say them. They don’t give me strength at all.”

Strength is what we need and what we need more than all is your unconditional love. Before you speak, pause and just give us your love.

God Bless, my prayers are with you continually

G’nite to you all. Ronan and I love you to the moon and back.

xoxo

The next person that tells me Ronan wants to go home, to heaven, can piss off

Holy Fuck. How did I get here? I’m at The Ryan House; the most beautiful place we have been so far on this journey because my son is going to die? And everybody knows this except me? Am I in that movie, “The Truman Show,” where everything is just pretend and I’m some experiment being watched to see how I’ll react to everything? Please, please, please, somebody tell me that’s the case. I don’t think it’s even hit me what is going on, why we are here, and why everybody has been crying, until now. Until I stepped outside tonight to get Woody some things from his car and in the room across from us was a baby who was on the verge of her last breath and I stood and watched while it was happening. The door was open and I could not look away. The nurses were crying, parents, family, everyone was hovering over this baby. They were preparing for her to take her last breath. In that room, I saw myself, huddled over Ronan, begging him not to go. Is that my future? Does everybody know this except me? Is this the reason that The Ryan House was full of my friends and family today, and when they all came into Ronan’s room they could not hide their tears. Am I the only one who thinks this is not going to happen?? Even though I am hearing whispers of he has days left. Who are they talking about? Couldn’t possibly be Ronan. He gave me the biggest smile today and told me he loved me to the moon and back. So what if he cannot walk anymore because his legs hurt so badly. I can fix that with Radiation, right? Just like I fixed his arm. So what if he is not wanting to eat anymore, I can fix that too with his all his favorite things like Strawberries and Whipped Cream. I can get him to eat for me. I sent Woody and Fernanda a list of people, resources, other doctors to call today. Woody has been on the phone all day. I’m not accepting this until I hear there is nothing more to do from 100 different people. I’m not giving up. I am his mom, I can fix anything. That is my job and I refuse to fail.

I have not been outside in a couple of days I think. Tonight, I found myself on the patio, curled up on the phone, bawling to my Mr. Sparkly Eyes. I don’t think I screamed, but I remember sobbing and listening to him cry with me. I told him over and over that I cannot have Ro leave me, I cannot live without him, please make it go away. He told me I could yell at him, how sorry he was, and begged me to sleep as I cannot remember the last time I really have. It’s been a couple of days I think. I told him how could I sleep, how could I possibly close my eyes, what if I missed Ronan’s last breath?? I will never forgive myself. I’m not going to miss any time that I have left with him although I forced myself to come outside and write tonight while Woody sits with Ro. You see, if I didn’t, I was on the verge of packing up all of our stuff and getting Ronan out of here. Maybe if I take him away from The Ryan House, he won’t die. My thoughts are not rational, but they seem realistic to me and I could seriously see myself grabbing him and never looking back. I don’t want him to die here. Even though everyone is insisting this is where we should be. I want to be home with him, where he is safe and none of this is real. Being here, magnifies everything by a billion. I don’t like the look of all of the sweet nurses, doctors, and whomever else has been hovering about. They all have the same look of pity, sadness, and no hope. I get the feeling they don’t see miracles happen very often with children that come in here with cancer. Why can’t Ronan be that miracle? Why is that asking too much? We are nice people, we deserve a happy ending. There will be no happy ending of this story if my baby is ripped out of my arms. What will they do with him? Where will they take him? I’m not letting him go. They will have to pry my arms off of him with a fucking bulldozer. I’m not letting him go. Call the fucking psych ward because that’s where I am going to end up if this all goes down the way everyone thinks it is going to.

“Everything happens for a reason.” BULLSHIT. “You were given this because you were strong enough to handle this.” BULLSHIT. “God has a greater plan for Ronan.” Bullshit. “Ronan wants to go home, where he belongs, to Heaven.” MOTHER FUCKING BULLSHIT. Who the fuck came up with these sayings because the next person I hear say them to me is going to get punched in the face. They may be true if death is not outcome of this. But if it is, then I am going to write down those sayings on a piece of paper and burn them to the ground. Please think before you speak those words. They are the sickest things I have ever heard. Ronan Sean Thompson does not want to go home to heaven where he belongs. I can guarantee you with my life that he wants to stay at his home, in Phoenix, Arizona with the best mommy, daddy, and brothers alive.

I somehow stayed so strong today, even with people buzzing in and out, wiping the tears from their eyes. Stacy, Pam, Heidi, Tiffany, Jennifer, Sharon, Marcia, Auntie Karen, Sister Mary, Dr. Campbell, Katie, Macy, Sarah, Fernanda, Nana, Papa Jim, Aubrey….. they were all here. I think Niki, Heidi and Christy came by too, but I cannot remember seeing them. I smiled and remember saying to New York Miss Macy, “No tears, my dear.” She looked like she could have cried a pool of water right there in front of me. I’m so confused. I must be in shock still. I don’t remember much else about today except for sitting in bed, and taking care of Ronan. I remember a few people coming in and out. I remember eating my one thing that I have eaten in a week, my favorite things, chips and salsa and I remember throwing it up. I remember holding Quinn on my lap and watching him cry as I tried to explain to him as little as possible what was going on. He tried so hard to not cry, but I told him how crying was so good for us and how we cannot keep our feelings bottled up. And now I sit here. With Quinn and Woody inside, and Fernanda is here too with her overnight back so I can have a break and maybe sleep while she watches Ronan for me. I don’t really know what is going on. I know I have the most amazing friends surrounding me but somehow I can only find the courage to see a few faces.

I want to go home but nobody seems to think that’s a good idea. I don’t know what to do as the twins and the way they remember everything is the most important to me, but I also want to respect Ronan and take him home to be the only place he wants to be. I don’t know if I want strangers surrounding him if for some crazy reason he has to leave me. I just want him in my safe bed, in my safe house, the place he loves more than anywhere. I want that not only for myself, but for him as well. I’ve been so open and honest about everything and not the least bit private, but now I want to protect him from strangers hovering about. I don’t want those faces around my baby as he takes his last breaths. I feel a jailbreak coming on. And Ronan has his pistols in his hands to bust us out. Not that we would really need them, because I know the people here are so respectful of what you want to do. But a little cowboy action never hurt anyone.

That is all for tonight as I have officially lost my mind due to lack of sleep and oh, just the little fact that my son has cancer and I am just supposed to sit back and watch him die. FUCK YOU WORLD.

But I love you all as always, as long as you don’t say any of those idiotic things I mentioned above to me. Even if you think them, please don’t say them. They don’t give me strength at all. They even piss my husband off and it takes a lot to get him pissed.

G’nite all you cowboys out there. Sweet dreams.

xoxo

My sweet friend, Charisma sent this to me from her friend, Amber. I love it. Bittersweet. I love you, CC. I love you, Amber and I don’t even know you.

Ronan. Here’s a little prayer for Ronan, beautiful eyes. Seeing the other side. Courage beyond any man.

He will be there. In the trees. In the leaves. It will make her live life, hate life, love life beyond…

Rebirth. Always more chances.

Those eyes. Those eyes. Those eyes.

Fabulous eyes.

We will light a candle at dinner for Ronan tonight and celebrate life.

~Amber

Please don’t leave me

Please tell me today didn’t happen. Please tell me I didn’t have a conversation with my husband about what we are going to do for Ronan’s services. Please tell me I then didn’t go to Hava Java and sit with Fernanda, Stacy, Marisa, Danielle, Tricia, and Macy about planning everything. This all happened so fast. Too fast. All I want is more time with him. I am so scared now. I’m left with nothing except for waiting for my baby to go. He spent all of today in my bed, sleeping, and crying out in pain. Morphine, Morphine, and more Morphine. I couldn’t get him out of my bed so I sat with him, rubbed him, and tried to comfort him. Nothing was working and I couldn’t talk him into going outside, playing with his brothers or anything. I texted Dr. Maze and asked him if it was the Morphine that was making him so tired or was it because he is getting close to dying? I almost threw up writing out those words. He responded back it was the Morphine. I don’t think he would have told me otherwise as I know he does not want to say those words to me. I decided that I was not comfortable with Ronan being home, as his pain is not getting better. We have taken him down to the Ryan House where they can hook him up with a drip of some stronger pain medication. I’m not sure how long we will stay here, but it is such a gorgeous place, for being in the worst situation. Woody and Tricia dropped us off. I spent the evening trying to get Ro comfortable. It’s not working. Nothing is working. I have been rubbing his leg for an hour, listening to his shallow breaths, watching him twitch and whimper in his sleep. I’ve been talking to him all night, telling him I’m not going anywhere and neither is he. He is hurting so badly and all I can do is hold his hand and rub his little body. Aubrey came by tonight to sit with me and love on Ronan. He knows there is not much time left even though he refuses to tell me. I can read that man like a book and he doesn’t even have to say a word. His eyes say it all.

I’m trying to be strong for the sake of Ro. I’ve done an o.k. job but tonight, I lost it in front of him. I was whispering to him about how he cannot leave me, how he promised. How we had to fight and still be strong so we could always be together. The tears were pouring down my cheeks. He looked up and goes, “Please don’t cry. You’re making me sad.” Ugh. Wise little man. I stopped, until he then told me the the medicine he is taking is making him so sleepy that he can’t even play and that is making him sad. Unreal. All of this. I am so desperate at this point… there has to be someone out there who can help my baby. This cannot be the end. I cannot let go so soon. I need more time with him, so a cure can be found and he can be healed. I cannot lose my baby. Please God. Let him stay here with me; he is so happy with us. Our lives will be so empty without him.

I cannot get Ronan comfortable. He has tossed and turned all night, asking to go home. We had Mimi and Papa wake the twins up around 10 and bring them down here to stay with us as Ronan was begging for them. Quinn is sleeping with Ronan and myself. Liam is in the room right next door with Woody. We are keeping the twins home from school tomorrow. They need all the time with Ronan they can get. We have still not had the talk with them. I keep finding a reason not to do it. Once it is done, that means this is real and I am not ready to accept that yet. I’m not sleeping. How could I possibly sleep at a time like this? I have to watch Ronan at all times to make sure he is still here, he is still mine. His breaths seem labored and forced. His tummy is hurting and he seems confused. He told me tonight that he wants to go home, but doesn’t want to have to get back on the airplane to do so. He also told me I wasn’t saving him. If he only knew how I am trying everything I possibly can to save him.

I’m having Woody call Doctor Sholler tomorrow. Her name was thrown around quite a bit tonight when I put out a desperate post on the Neuroblastoma website. She is supposed to be one of the doctors that thinks outside the box. Woody seems to think that nothing can be done, but I refuse to believe that. Somebody out there has to be able to save my Ronan. I’m not accepting anything until I hear it from everyone I possibly can. I’m not giving up on him. I’ve got to get him more comfortable so I can buy myself some time. I cannot stand seeing him in pain.

He is awake, he is restless, so I am going to rub him and sing to him. G’nite Twinkle Twinkle Little Stars. I love you all so much.

xoxo

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