Phin, Phlags, Phutbol

Hey Phin phans!
Dustin here with an update for July 2026. Let's plunge in! 

Phin returned to school at the end of July, entering third grade. His school starts classes earlier than most other schools (several weeks earlier than his sisters' schools), and in typical nine-year-old fashion, Phin was none too pleased to watch the final golden rays of sunlight dissolve as his abbreviated summer break faded once more into the extended twilight of classrooms and car lines.  

However, I would be remiss not to mention two important facts for which we are exceedingly grateful.

First, Phin gets to begin another school year. Not just that—he gets to go back to school with the other kids in his class at the start of classes. It may seem like a bummer to him, but we have learned not to take these things for granted. 

(Earlier this week, Phin's martial arts instructor asked when Phin's school's open house would be. I said it had already happened, and that he'd been back in class for several days. He looked at Phin and said, winking, "Your dad's happy about that," and he was right, of course. Just maybe not for the reasons he thought.)  

Second—and for some reason we didn't really acknowledge this when it happened—Phin has now successfully completed one full, complete, uninterrupted year of school! Last year, for the first time in his life, he made it all the way through. No withdrawing halfway through for treatment. No switching to online instruction to protect his rebooting immune system. No coming in late and sprinting to make up lost ground. 

He went all the way through second grade from start to finish. 

Here's hoping in third grade he can run it back and do it again. 

Phin and his sister and mom visit his 
pediatric oncology nurse friends after pickup
on his first day back at school. 

Medical Updates
A nurse friend of ours recently reminded me that you never say "the Q word." Saying that word invokes commotion, discord, and pandemonium. It jinxes everything. So, with that in mind, I'll merely report that Phin's health seems stable. His levels of energy and appetite are both robust. His color seems vibrant. His scrapes and cuts clot and close. He seems positive and upbeat in mood and outlook, and he gets excited to do activities and to play with his family members and friends. The only medical mystery we have no name or clear explanation for is Phin’s once-a-month gastrointestinal chaos. 

I know some of you may be wondering if the cyclospora outbreak raging through the U.S. might be the villain I’m talking about here, but rest-assured, Phin does not eat foods grown from the ground again (mostly, yet). Rather, about once a month, Phin is suddenly afflicted—and without warning, usually in the middle of the night—stomach bug-like symptoms. He throws up a few times with no other symptoms. The closest hint we may get at what’s coming is his inability to find anything that 1) tastes good and/or 2) satisfies his appetite. In fact, he can’t quite tell if his stomach hurts because he’s hungry or if it’s “something else.” So we keep a bucket handy and watch-and-see. It could be GVHD, but barring a stronger reason to put him through an invasive procedure under anesthesia and scope his intestinal tract, we watch-and-see, about once a month, every month.

Phin at his second home
down the street

Phin's next visit to CHOA for bone marrow clinic is in a couple weeks. As has been noted many times before, the period just before clinic visits is one of great apprehension for us (and, I suspect, for many other cancer parents). Everything might look healthy and normal on the outside, while in its ancient tongue, the blood might be quietly telling another story. We can only read that tale in translation through his lab work.  

So, as always, we wait. We watch for subtle signs that the plot might be about to twist. We steel ourselves to receive the story the blood tells. 

Phin On the Daily
Granny gave Phin a 2026 FIFA World Cup blanket with the flags of the 48 teams' countries printed on it. We couldn't have predicted it, but that seed found fertile soil in Phin's mind and has sprouted into a thriving obsession with world geography. He wants to know about borders, histories, wars, and alliances. He's interested in the rise and fall of empires, about the consequences of colonization, and the struggles that resulted in liberation. He constantly asks about different groups of people, their cultures, their languages, the lands in which they dwell and the customs they keep. 

No geographical minutiae seems too granular or obscure for his fascination, including (to bring this back to where it began), country flags. 

Of course, this newfound academic pursuit has only buttressed his adoration of the world's most beautiful game. He completed another soccer camp this month, focusing mostly on striker skills. 

Phin practices attacking at soccer camp.

It's been a pretty seamless soccer experience for him this month, honestly. 

Phin's grandfather takes him to school.

 

Phin and friends play soccer.

I'll leave it here for now. 

As always, thanks for following along. Thanks for reading these updates, and for thinking about our kid and other kids who have to face cancer and other terrifying illnesses. Thanks for encouraging our family and the families of kids in your communities who are going through it, or who have gone through it.

Thanks for doing cool stuff like this.   

These things you're out there doing, these acts of kindness—they matter. 

They all matter.