No fooling

Dear Madeline,

I'm so happy that the weekend is finally upon us. I'm not sure if the nurses were pulling an April Fools prank on us or not, but they told us that one of the machines - the only they've used for you - was not working properly and that they almost called us to come in for a 6:30 AM treatment instead of an 8:30 AM treatment. Were they kidding? They did indeed have you get your treatment on a different machine, so who knows? That would have been one prank for which we'd not have been so thrilled to be on the receiving end.

You sailed through radiation treatment this morning, the nurse "de-accessed" your port, and when you woke up and finished chugging on that bottle of yours you flashed everyone some huge smiles. I cannot begin to tell you how relieved I am that your radiation treatments are almost at an end.  The clock cannot strike 10 AM on Monday fast enough. When it does, we'll do a victory lap down in "L2" of the Weinberg Building, sprint over to strike that end-of-treatment bell, blow everyone a big, cartoonish kiss, and scram. You've weathered this treatment so well so far, but I'd be lying to you if I said I still wasn't worried about the long-term side effects.

So Monday is a big day!  The end of radiation treatment is a significant milestone, and cause for a little jubilation. We still have a race to run here, though, kiddo. With everything you've been through, I think this is more like hitting the 5-mile mark in a marathon; only 21.2 miles left to go. So let's have a great time this weekend without tubes, lines and needles, and let's savor the end of radiation treatment on Monday, and then get a good night's rest of Monday night. Tuesday brings another pediatric oncology clinic appointment and another dose of chemotherapy, so we don't have much time to savor the victory before going back out to fight again.

Love,
   Daddy