9:00 pm: It’s popcorn and movie night! We are winding down and will be ready for bed soon. Harvey’s nurse this evening is Rui, who skillfully and carefully shaved heads in this very room last evening. Truth be told, he was an actual hair stylist in his past life. The saying around here is “Rui does it all!” We can certainly attest to this. Thank you so much, Rui, for the excellent care and the stylish new dos! ❤️
5:00 pm: We’re in the final hours of living in this hospital room. It’s hard to be too excited knowing that we’ll be back here again in the future. But for now, I await Harvey’s look of excited freedom when we walk out of here tomorrow. I honestly don’t know how we’re going to get him back inside this building again. He’s going to fight it with every ounce of his being. I can’t blame him – I would, too! Once he’s back home tomorrow, Lindsey & I are going to need a game plan devised to get him back here on Friday morning for his next operation. I’m absolutely dreading it. And we know he will be, too.
Yesterday, Harvey received his Warrior Wagon that we’ll use to cart him into future clinic appointments. What a great program for families! I’m hoping this will make our next appointments more bearable for Harv. Thank you so much, Warrior Wagons!
I was an absolute mess creating and sharing the videos of Harvey’s and Lindsey’s transformation via a hair clipper. As a parent of a child with leukemia, you know this moment is coming from day 1. It’s perhaps the best known rite of passage for anyone fighting cancer. I’m so thankful that Harvey, Lindsey, and especially Hattie, recognized the humor and joy in it all that wasn’t so obvious for me. Retrospectively, the flood of emotions I experienced wasn’t from the buzz cuts. It was in the realization that Harvey shared something so special with his mom in that moment. I witnessed the inception of a mother-son bond comparable to when they met for the very first time on October 30, 2017. From the moment of Harvey’s diagnosis, I fully anticipated joining the ranks of the shaved. But by design, this wasn’t my part to play. It was instead an amazing gift to witness as it played out beautifully.
The walls of this hospital room have witnessed the entire spectrum of our emotions. The highs and lows of a boy with cancer. His family, willing to give anything, do anything, to make it go away. To this room, our story is just another iteration of cancer diagnosis and treatment. But for the walls that await us in our own home, everything will be new, changed, unfamiliar. I hope for the strength to persevere in the areas that matter most for our family in the next years. Attention given where it is needed to each of our kids. Patience for our patient. The means for self care and respite. The ability to find new ways of bringing joy and experiences to our world that’s (again) being segregated from the rest of world. I shudder at the thought of comparing what’s ahead of us to COVID-19 lock-downs. We’ve seen some very great ideas from creative individuals during our stay here at Children’s Minnesota Hospital. They’ve made our stay bearable, even fun at times. Shout-out to Onyx the dog!
10:45 am: Another quick update as I find a moment between everything in motion today. Most importantly, there are no new updates with Harvey’s health this morning. I’m helping prepare our home for Harvey’s anticipated arrival back home tomorrow (Cindy Bisbey is actually doing most of the work – Thank you so much, Cindy!). I want to share another video near and dear to my heart. I call this one “Hattie reacts to shaved heads!” I was laugh-crying behind the camera recording her reaction. It was so genuine.
1:45 am: These words are technically being posted on the early morning of day 25, but our day 24 was just so busy that I’m only getting caught up now. In lieu of all the things I want to tell you, I’ll let this video tell the main story of how our Monday ended. Love you Harvey & Lindsey! Goodnight. ❤️