Monday, June 22, 2009
I have not written the update in some time because Joy is incredible with words, and right now I ask specifically for you to pray for my wife as she hovers over our son 24/7. She’s frail, emotionally worn out and is fighting the good fight for our son. Pray for Connor to continue to increase his appetite, for the swelling in his lower body to recede. Also pray that this tumor continues to soften up. There are many battles inside this war, and Connor has many to fight – his appetite, swelling, water retention, discomfort, pain – but he continues to survive and make improvements inch by inch. Remember, it’s been 31 days since we were told he had 2 – 4 weeks to live, and he’s a lot better than he was a month ago.
Also, thank you for your continued support, prayer, emails, notes. I want to specifically thank all the people feeding us and helping me take care of the house here in Frisco as my wife lives in Guatemala. Thank you so much also for the airline miles that have been donated to help us fly family and friends back and forth to give Joy emotional support.
We’re way over 220 nights in the hospital, 40 plus blood transfusions, 15-20 platelet transfusions, 25 rounds of chemo, 13 or so surgeries, 2 bone marrow transplants, with visits to Boston, New York, Houston, Dallas and now Guatemala. I continue to be amazed by how strong my son is and how my family is holding up, and that is with your prayers.
Below is a journal entry I wrote to Connor on day 27 four years ago that I read to him while he slept one night in mid July 2005. Many people have asked for me to repost this.
Sometimes you must remind those who are suffering from this disease, and their families suffering along with them, that this is not just suffering, a bad event, or a serious illness… IT IS A FIGHT. I hope it encourages you today and remember to celebrate life, for life is a blessing, and to fight for what you value.
Dear Connor,
As you lay in bed for another night, it’s hard to close the house down without you. With your bed neatly made, it just doesn’t seem the same without you in our home. And each night, as I kiss you goodbye, I whisper a couple of these in your ear each night: “Fight, Connor, fight. Fight for life. Remember the smell of eggs cooking in the morning with coffee brewing. Remember the smell of a washed shirt, or the loud music in Mommy’s car while everyone’s talking over each other as you drive to school. Remember fun playgrounds. Remember your church. The taste of donuts in your mouth. Remember a hug from your mom. Remember the anticipation of waking up Christmas morning and running downstairs with your siblings to see presents. Remember the smell of Mexican food. Or the burn of a coke in your mouth. Remember naps with Daddy, and the smell of fresh grass. Remember the feel of snow on your nose. Or the sound of the snap of a plastic sword as we fight and attack each other’s forts. Remember your brother Carson and his love and admiration for you. Remember your grandma and grandpa in Oklahoma with their cool ranch and riding the gators and fishing and hunting with Daddy up there, hiding in deer stands and seeing the wheat grow, a wild turkey, or even a wild pig. Remember Aunt Cody as she takes great care of you while Mommy and Daddy are gone. And tickle fights with cousin Lexie. The smell of a hot tub as it bubbles and steams in your nose. Remember your sister Mackenzie with scooter rides and video games and watching movies together. Remember the hot summer sun, your bike, riding in the Land Rover to Sonic with loud rock music blaring. Remember the big giraffe in our house and showing all your friends. Or riding in grandpa’s tractor. Remember, Connor, life is good and fun. Like sitting in grandpa’s lap, riding a bulldozer. Remember slurpees and nachos and cheese sticks, and your mom telling you to eat your vegetables. Remember family night and family dodgeball. Remember days on your motorcycle chasing your brother in his car. Remember going to Dallas Stars and Dallas Mavericks. Playing hide and seek with your neighbors, with the feel of losing your breath as you run away. Remember movies and Sponge Bob and baths with Carson. Connor, don’t look back and let time stand still. It’s time to live and go forward. It’s time to live and see the people who love you and your family that surrounds you. Remember the dream to go back to Disney World and hunt in Africa with Daddy one day. The dream of playing on a beach, or playing football and basketball, of your first concert, of driving your first car or motorcycle, of shooting your first deer, of your first kiss, and the wonderful dizzy feeling you get when you see your bride walking down the aisle to marry you.
Connor, we are ready for you to come home and be cancer-free.
Connor, I love you.
Daddy
“I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:13
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