Coasting

As soon as the announcement was made that they were done, I didn't care how long it took to be taken back to the ICU.  I knew that he was safe.  It was 13 hours since we'd arrived at the hospital that morning, 11 since he'd left my arms.  To say I was frantic was an understatement.  I got two updates simply saying that he was stable.  Nothing more, nothing less.  When the time began to drag past 9 hours, my nerves were beyond shot.  I am not good at being positive.  My mind always jumps to the dire in times like these.  My thought kept taking me to my deepest fears.  When they finally took us back, I was practically sprinting behind her.  It would have been a race if I would have known which room he was in and how to navigate the ICU.  As it was, I stepped past her at the last second and beat her into his room.  One day I may be embarrassed at how manic I was, but for today, I still can't get the image of him out of my head.  He looked so wonderful.  It was like a breath of fresh air to sidle up to the bed and grab for his hand.  With slow, deliberate motions, Caden opened his eyes and slurred, with difficulty, "I Love You."  And then he searched out Randy, slowly, of course, and slurred those beautiful words to him.  It was all I could do not to scoop him up, carry him to the nearby rocking chair, and just rock him.  I got to say 'I Love You' again, it felt like heaven.

Dr. Healey met us in the waiting room right before we got to go back.  The surgery was harder than he anticipated.  Um... We can deduce that for ourselves.  What was told to us would be a 6 hour surgery turned into an eleven hour surgery.  It was twelve hours plus before we got to see him.  It was hard to get to the tumor/liver because of Caden's size.  He may be at a heavier weight than he has ever been before, but he's still a slim little guy.  The tumor was also sitting more towards the back of the right lobe, closer to his back bone than front.  They also discovered that it had come out of the liver a bit and was attaching to his diaphragm.  Fat and happy little punk!  A little  lot more work than originally anticipated.  Caden did need just one of the units of blood out of the two ordered.  I am just so amazed at how calm under pressure Dr. Healey was.  The other doctors on the ICU floor that came to check on Caden gave us more of an insight into just how difficult it had been.  It was much more intense than he made it seem.  Dr. Hawkins said it takes a lot to get a rise out of Dr. Healey.  I think this is a blessing for my nerves.  I was already feeling like I could run a 5K in 20 minutes, I can't imagine what I would have done if he seemed hot under the collar about anything that happened in that OR room.  His calm demeanor put me more at ease.  He's kind of my favorite human on the planet today.  Well, tied for first.  My favorite human is laying in the bed next to me.  Snoring.  One of my favorite sounds right now.  From Caden, not Randy!

The scar is more than they anticipated as well.  It is causing him a good deal of pain today.  However, he is not swollen as much as I thought he would be.  I can tell a HUGE difference in his rib cage.  In fact, I am so used to seeing him distended, he actually looks malnourished today.  He just looks so skinny without that intruder.  We find out from pathology soon (maybe tomorrow) if it is totally dead.  They test the tissue around the tumor, which had a perfect border around it, to make sure than only healthy tissue surrounds.  If there is any unhealthy tissue around it we will have one more Round of chemo.  I hope this is not the case, but if it is, we know it will be worth it.  They have all been worth it, but Caden just finished the biggest hurdle of them all.  Tomorrow will be day two after surgery, so I think it may be intense, but so far, pain team has been amazing.  He just looks so amazing!

I remember the first time I ventured out of the hospital way back in February.  He was in surgery to get his port placed and his PICC line removed.  We had a couple of hours, so Randy made me leave.  I was almost hyperventilating as I walked out into the fresh air.  Like yesterday, my mind kept going to all of the fears.  When we made it to the restaurant, I was almost in a daze looking at all of the people going about their lives.  I felt so foreign.  I felt like I was going to cry.  I almost told an old woman, "My son has cancer."  It felt so weird to be out in public.  I wanted to run back to the security of the hospital.  Because even though things were seriously crazy and unknown, they knew how to take care of us.  Today is the polar opposite of that day.  I feel like I want to scream over the many balconies of Seattle Children's, "My son is cancer free!!!!!"  I want to shout it to the heavens, tell everyone that looks me in the eye.  I want to tell the whole world.  It is an amazing feeling!

Our roller coaster ride is not quite over, but we have hit that brake.  We are coasting to our final stop.  The adrenaline is still coursing through our veins, the emotions still fresh in our hearts, the images still blazing in our memories.  It has been an amazing, but tumultuous journey.  But our eyes are fixed on the end, our legs bounce in anticipation for that lap bar to release.  We are going to jump up as soon as we can and run down the ramp to our next adventure.  No matter what, our hands will hold onto one another! ( Because together is the place where we belong.  ~ said by Caden just now )