Cancer Sssstinks

My visit to San Diego was wonderful and difficult. I arrived on a Tuesday, and Taylor wasn't released from the hospital until Thursday. She had been there two weeks.

This is how she got to meet her Auntie after almost five years:

While in the hospital, she contracted a bacteria that was evidently picked up from one of the other children in the hospital, passed from one of the nurses. They made anyone and everyone wear a gown, gloves, and mask for their own protection; Debbie was already exposed and didn't wear anything.

It turned out this was all overkill. I wore this getup for approximately four hours before I received permission to take it off.


Taylor received a couple of prayer quilts. I snapped a picture of the bottom of this particular one:
This church makes prayer quilts for children in the hospital with cancer. As they lovingly tie the finishing knots, they pray for the child who will receive it. The incredible thing about this particular quilt is that it was worked on and prayed over by a woman named "Wally." Wally worked with my mother over twenty years ago. God is good.


Unmasked, posing with my sister-in-law, Debbie. She had also been in the hospital two weeks! She won't leave Taylor, and who can blame her. Some of the children only get to see their parents on the weekend because of hardship. That would be incredibly, indescribably hard.


When you're nine and you have cancer, you receive all sorts of visitors! You never know who will show up! On the day I was there, the umpires for the San Diego Padres (GO PADRES!) came by and gifted the children with their choice of build-a-bear and outfit. Taylor wanted a cheerleader puppy, of course.
They even helped her dress her. Nice bunch of guys!




Here are some more visitors and a nurse in the background. The little girl in the back is Nina, Taylor's homeschool friend. The older man attempting origami is Hitch; I'm guessing she knows him from some acting she's done, since they spoke in movie terms.


Other friends are second family to Taylor. She was never bored for long!


At the Ronald McDonald house, parents can stay close to their children and receive a free meal for dinner. We walked over and had dinner while Tay was sleeping. Everyone is greeted and made welcome.


This hospital really tries to make the children feel loved and cared for. The grounds are beautiful and friendly. Still, it's hard not to hate the place when you're nine and you have cancer.


This picture is for Bekah R. She loved the pillow! She exclaimed that it smelled so wonderful.


When you're nine and you have cancer and your Auntie comes to visit, you get to do origami. This is the zoo and the buildings we finished from Tuesday to Thursday! We were getting pretty good at it towards the end, there.
I never thought I had the patience for origami and kept wishing Kelly were there to do it for me, but you find you can do lots of things when your niece is nine and has cancer.


This lady was nice. She did something with Taylor on the computer. Don't ask me what because I don't understand it.


This lady is also nice. She's putting magnets on her pressure points. Don't ask me why because I don't understand it.


When you're nine and you have cancer, you speak medical jargon and know the name of every pill you take. You also take a LOT of pills. You also know whether or not they have side effects. If they do, you run from them. Or you try to put off taking them as long as possible. Especially the ones that make you throw up.


A little girl's vanity, complete with surgical masks in case she ventures out in public when her counts are low. Which counts? Her blood counts. Ask her which ones and she'll tell you in medical jargon exactly which numbers are safe.


"My 3 wishs are to be a National Champion for Country, Hunter, Dressage Saddle Seat Equitation, Hunt Seat Equitation, and showmanship is one wish. Then I would like to be a famous actress. Then my last wish is to be helthy as can be."


Dad shaved his head when she did. She had plenty of hair left, but was tired of it shedding constantly. It's already growing back. Dad's is coming back with gray in it. (It's about time, Bro!)



Soon, very soon, it will come back and look like this:
Because, you see, Taylor's cancer is already dead and gone. Now she just has to get through the treatments to kill any dormant cells.

For the next two years.


It isn't right to be nine and have cancer.

It stinks.