Hey there, Phin phans!
Dustin here with an update on Phin for November, a month that turned out to be super busy. There were good times, like when Phin got to travel to see relatives who live far away for Diwali and Thanksgiving. There were bad times, like when we had to say goodbye to his Great Uncle John, beloved by all, who passed away several weeks ago in New York after a long illness. It was a month where we were often reminded not to take anything for granted.
Let's get into it.
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| Phin at a tree-lighting ceremony |
Milestones & Memories
It wasn't a very pleasant milestone, but Phin got his first filling at the dentist's office a few days ago. His oncologist cautioned us that this might be a thing for him. Behold the wonders of the interconnected systems comprising the human body. You probably wouldn't guess that cancer patients who get chemo might have weaker tooth enamel, as the chemo (the kind Phin got) drips into the bloodstream, and the enamel is already formed. But tooth enamel is preserved by the saliva and the oral microbiome, and when those get nuked by the chemo, the tooth enamel can be left vulnerable and cavities can form more easily.
Or it could be he eats way too much candy and totally half-asses it when he brushes. Also solid possibilities.
Anyway, he got the filling and it was no big deal. I say that like I'm the dude who had the drill in his mouth. He took it like a champ, though. He's had worse.
Medical Updates
Phin is between clinic visits, so no official medical updates right now. He did get sick for a few days just before Thanksgiving, but we think that was just a stomach bug or something.
There are few things that parents who have more than one kid dread more than having a sickness tear through the house and put everybody down for the count at once. But a strange thing happens when you have a kid who's in remission and they get sick. You find yourself hoping that someone else gets sick, too, just so you can reassure yourself that it's not relapse, that the unspeakable hasn't happened, that the cancer hasn't returned.
You hear that thermometer beep with a fever reading and think, Okay, this is nothing to worry about. Kids get sick sometimes. It's normal. Then, later that day, the kid throws up. This has got to be the thing that's going around at the school, you think. But is it? You can't be certain. That uncertainty grabs hold of the loose thread that's always dangling from the sweater of your mind, and then it pulls. Then, finally, blessedly, somebody else in your home spikes a fever and starts projectile blasting it out of both ends, and the next thing you know you're down on your hands and knees trying to scrub it all out of the carpet with such an overpowering sense of relief and gratitude in your heart, knowing that even though multiple people you love are doing their impression of a crap-filled donut being run over by a dirt bike and it's extremely likely that you're up next, it's not the worst thing that could happen.
It's not even close.
Phin On the Daily
Phin finished his theater class. Here he is with his classmates at their final performance.
He visited his Uncles Kiran and Srinivas and attended their Diwali celebration with his sisters.
Christmas Wish's 25th Anniversary
Our friend, Mark Robertson, is once again reading Christmas Wish letters at 98.7 the River. It's the 25th year for Christmas Wish, which provides assistance at the holidays for Savannah-area families who have been affected by cancer.
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| Image from 98.7 The River |
Some of the Christmas Wish letters that Mark reads were penned by pediatric oncology nurses who cared for Phin while he was in treatment last year. (I type this with tears streaming down my face, having just read such a letter by Phin's nurse friend, Anna, about a baby named Latarian who is currently in her care.
In one of the eeriest circumstances of my life, I made a post on social media about my admiration for Mark and 98.7 the River's Christmas Wish program back in 2017. The thought of this man reading on air those letters about children with cancer, knowing full well how difficult it would be to get through them, seemed heroic. (It seems even more heroic now.) I had no idea back then that our baby, Phin, who was only six months old at the time, would one day be living in that hospital, hooked up to the same machines, taking the same medicines, fighting the same enemy. At the time I wrote that post, Phin was a happy, healthy, thriving kid. He was a happy, healthy, and thriving kid for the next four years, until one day, suddenly, he wasn't, and we found ourselves living in the world described in the letters Mark reads on the radio every holiday season. I didn't know then how close we were to that world.
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| 98.7 The River's Christmas Wish QR code |
No. That isn't right.
What I mean is, I didn't fully understand then that there is no "that world." There is only this world, and we're all already in it, whether we always choose to notice it or not. Thank you, Mark, for reminding us of that. And thank you, Anna and the rest of the nurses and pediatric oncology team who've written Christmas Wish letters. They are wonderful.
If you'd like to donate to Christmas Wish, or to read the letters about the affected families, here's a QR code that will take you where you need to go.
Child Life's Wish List at CHOS
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| Phin playing in the Child Life playroom last year |
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| Child Life wish list QR code |
For those who'd like to support Child Life and their ongoing work, here's a QR code to their wish list once again.
