An end-of-summer Team Davis update

“They” say that writers are more inspired to write when they’re away from home, away from normal routine. Something about the change of pace and/or scenery lets them be more creative and more able to express themselves.

I don't presume to call myself a writer, but “they”’re right. There’s definitely something about being  “somewhere else” that helps get those juices flowing.

Which means that it must be time to write again, since we’ve been home for a long time, and I obviously don’t have “it” when I’m at home.

But that, in itself, is actually, as “they” say, a very good thing.

We’ve been home since just before the end of May, when Davis finished his 6th and final round of chemo. So far the summer (which is pretty much already now gone) has been absolutely wonderful, which is to say, essentially normal.

After being home in June, Davis’ CVC - the line he had implanted to allow access for blood draws, chemo, etc. - got a tiny little tear in it. It wasn’t a huge deal, but it was enough to bump up the schedule for taking it out. (No, we didn’t do it on purpose. They asked that. I denied it. Because that was the truth.) So Davis and I made an overnight trip to Vancouver mid-June (was it really that long ago?) to have it done.

It’s amazing to me that the timing was such that we got it all prepped, I dropped him off in the treatment room and went for a coffee, and as I was walking back, they were wheeling him back in to the recovery room. 15 minutes, and all foreign objects had been removed from his body. He took longer to wake up from the anesthetic than it took to do the procedure.

So as of that day, other than a scar that he’ll be proud to show off one day as a teenager (and a couple tiny scars that won’t be so cool), all evidences of the last 7 months have been expelled from Davis. The docs have now declared him cancer free. Praise be to God! And thanks to all the amazing staff at BC Children’s and all others who’ve been caring for him.

Though we’ve been able to turn the page on that chapter, we’re still not finished the book yet. There is a chance of relapse, and there will be for a number of years. So we’re doing monthly blood work in Penticton and quarterly trips to Vancouver for imaging (CT scans, ultrasound, PET scans). Between those two things, we’ll be able to catch any relapse that may happen in an very early stage, if it ever happens.

We’ve been told that if a relapse happens, it will be harder to treat, and that if it were to happen, it wouldn’t happen until at least 3 months after the last chemo. That makes it that right about now is when it could start happening. So we’re now in a state of watchfulness, knowing that it could happen again. But we’re also enjoying the normality of life, and living each day as it comes.

Our next Vancouver trip will be in early October, having been down there last in early July. We’ll get blood work done again next week, and I’ll start posting more about those kinds of results. But for this summer, and for now, as “they” say, no news is good news.

Thanks to all of you for your continued care and concern. To those who pray to our Heavenly Father, we continue to covet your prayers, that Davis would now be ever cancer-free, and that we as a family can enjoy each day we have, not worrying about what tomorrow may or may not bring. We entrust Davis and all of us into God’s loving care, knowing that His mercies are new to us every morning.

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