In the dark . . .

 Scans are NOT for the faint of heart.  Scan day is long and arduous so when you get a chance to sneak down and visit friends in between appointments, you take that opportunity.

Sweet Mistha was more than happy to play peek-a-boo and try to touch MacKale and his hair through her window.  She's grown up so much and is such a big girl now.  We all pray each night for this little peanut.  She is a special friend from the 9th Floor.

It was bittersweet walking on the ninth floor after having left it June 3rd.  It feels comfortable and familiar.  We see so many of the faces that we hold so close to our heart--nurses, patients and staff.  They will always be so important and special to us. And yet . . . this is a place we never want to have to call home again.

So scans . . .
Echocradiogram . . . good.  His heart is functioning well despite all the poison that we pumped into him.  Audio test . . . mostly good.  He has lost some high pitch frequency hearing, but we'll take it.  I say it's an excuse to ignore me when I'm yakking at him.  X-ray . . . good.  Looks like the cadaver bone is starting to assimilate and mesh with his own bone.  CT scan . . . I hate CT scans.

It is a necessary evil. You see, osteosarcoma has this annoying tendency to show up and metastasize in the lungs.  This is why we do these scans every three months.  Even though MacKale had 99% necrosis, telling us that the chemo worked on his tumor, there are no guarantees that it won't come back!  It happens! 99% necrosis or not!  So we do CT scans.

Unfortunately and fortunately, CT scans are so good, they can pick up the smallest . . . itty bittiest of nodules, and yesterday that is what they did for MacKale.  Instead of the words, 'clear scans' we got 'several very small nodules.'  Now nodules can be a number of things . . . scar tissue . . . inflammation . . . infection . . . or metastasize osteosarcoma.  At this point, our doctor is hopeful that it is not mets (metastasized osteosarcoma), but we really don't know . . . we are literally in the dark.  And because of that, she isn't confident that we should remove MacKale's port just yet.

Of course, as a mom, my head goes immediately to fight mode. Doctor Mitchell knows this about me.  This is why I love her.  She literally has instructed Mike and I to worry about MacKale being able to drive in 4 years . . . not these nodules!  I'm worried about both!  

But really . . . I don't know what or if we are fighting anything.   These 2mm nodules are so small, seriously the size of a grain of sand, no surgeon is going to go in after them either way.  It's literally a wait and see game.  We are waiting four weeks and scanning again.  Hopefully, we will know something one way or another then.

MacKale is in good spirits.  His attitude is never wavering and every faithful.  "We don't know what it is, so I don't care about it."  He's right, of course.  We just need to keep moving forward, we need to remain faithful that 'God is sending the rain.'  We just need to prepare our fields to receive it.


So that's where we are.  We are in the dark, but holding onto our faith . . .ever thankful that God continues to bless us with your love and support.

Please please please . . . continue to pray for MacKale.  Pray that those nasty nodules disappear, that his body remains strong and that cancer has left his body forever.

Happy Cancerversary!

This entire month of Childhood Cancer Awareness, but especially this past week,  MacKale's cancer fight has weighed heavy on my heart . . . not necessarily in a bad way, but I have definitely been very reflective and reminiscent  about those last days before our own "lives turned upside down." Those blissfully, ignorant days before my faith was put to the test . . . shaken . . . and uprooted by cancer.

When I pulled up my iPhoto account yesterday to look for a picture of my class, I hit the "Pictures from the Last 12 Months" option.   Suddenly this was the picture that came up from October 1st, 2015.  This was MacKale at DeVos, the day of his biopsy.  This kid . . . so unaware of what he was suddenly going to have to face in matter of hours.  And Mike and I . . . so frightened . . . and still frightened.

On Saturday, October 1st, it will be exactly one year to the day that Dr. Joel Post walked into the parent surgery consult room and confirmed the fact that the tumor in MacKale's leg which he had just biopsied was, in fact, osteosarcoma.  One year!

I mentioned it to Mike the other day.  "October 1st is Mac's Cancerversary."
"His WHAT?"
"His Cancerversary!"
"Are we celebrating his cancer?  I don't get it?  What's a cancerversary!"

Quite honestly, I doubt that MacKale has thought twice about the day.   A year later, he is in the 7th grade, attending classes everyday, heading to PT three times a week and getting stronger.  While so much of what made him 'him' was taken away from him, he's still the same MacKale. His faith focuses him forward.  While I am reflective and often emotional as I look back over the year, MacKale, as any typical 12 year old boy would be, is looking ahead.  He's never been the kid to say 'why me' and, while it's been a challenge to find his new 'place,' he is rather more of a 'what's next' kind of kid.

I with I had more of the 12 year old boy in me. It's not that I feel the need to celebrate the day MacKale was diagnosed. I truly wish it was a memory I could erase forever.   However, the date is significant to me because it signifies the day that MacKale began this fight, the day all of you put us on your prayer lists, began supporting and fighting along with us and it signifies that a year later, he's still here . . . fighting, and while I am often stricken with doubt and fear for what comes next, he walked in faith and continues to walk forward in faith a year later.

A few weeks ago during mass, McCoy was serving and Father Joe had been speaking about faith and who in our life has taught us about faith.  He invited the parish to share with each other who it was that had taught them about faith and as we all started sharing with our neighbors, he turned to McCoy and said, 'Who has taught you about faith McCoy?'  And McCoy replied, 'MacKale!'

As parents we believe it is our job to raise our children in faith, we are to set the example and be a model of faith, but as I look over the last year . . . this, the most difficult year of my entire life, it is from my own children that I  learned what faith really means.  MacKale's faith never waivered and his little brothers prayed and prayed, without fail, for him every night.  MacKale endured . . . well you know . . . he endured it all, but his brothers endured as well.  These brothers, all three, were separated from each other, their lives torn out from under them, everything they knew and understood about their life suddenly changed . . . and yet, they continued to pray.  When things wouldn't go their way, when unexpected hospital visits ruined plans we made . . . they rolled with it, they made do and they found a new normal.

As a year has passed, their faith remains and I am in awe of it.


So how will MacKale be celebrating this first 'cancerversary'?

Golfing in Phoenix, of course.  Last year, before his diagnosis, he was asked to attend a program called 'Getting In the Game' which brought two kids with bleeding disorders from each state to Arizona for golf, swimming or baseball clinics and play. He was diagnosed two weeks before he was to attend and never went.  It was devastating to him then, but the program told him, 'we'll hold your spot and see you next year.'  Well it's next year and MacKale is thumbing his nose at cancer and hitting the links.


I couldn't think of a better way for him to celebrate.


And quite honestly we have celebrated everyday since his last clear scan.  We've certainly had a blissful summer! Three months of no hospitals, no scans, no chemo, lots of fishing, and golf, and brothers, and loving each other (with some healthy brotherly fighting thrown in).

 MacKale is still hitting PT three times a week and, although he says he doesn't really like it, we all like the fact that he's getting stronger!   We have been blissful and basking in the delightful feeling of an almost normal routine.

But come next week, we are back to reality.  Next Thursday, we will head, once again, down to DeVos for MacKale's three month scans.  While I never really forget that they are looming, scans are easier to ignore when they are closer to being behind you than in front of you, when you can see three months of blissful ignorance ahead of you instead of the imminent pending and possible slap of reality ahead.

I am thankful that these days at the hospital for scans do not impede MacKale's good nature.   When I told him we would be headed down to DeVos soon after he returned from Phoenix, he only wanted to make sure that we would have time to be able to 'visit the 9th floor.' Somehow, despite all the unpleasant days and nights we spent there, that 'floor' and everyone on it will always be a part of him.  He and his brothers never miss the chance to include 'all our friends on the 9th floor' in their prayers each night.

So again, I am asking that you please keep MacKale and our family in your prayers over these next couple of weeks. I still have faith, although some days are easier than others, that now matter what God will bring about some good with all this.  When I see a Team MacKale shirt, when I look at MacKale walking without crutches, when I receive a note from a friend who is thinking of us . . . when I pray each night with my boys . . .  but it reminds me that He is still with us.  These moments come to me when I feel most vulnerable and afraid for our future . . . they are timely and perfect and they renew my faith.

Our specific prayer is always that the cancer has left his body and never will return.   Clear scans and NED (No Evidence Of Disease) would be a fabulous blessing!

You are all a blessing to us, and we are so thankful to you  for following MacKale this year and for  your prayers.  I hope I'm back every year for many years

Walk In Faith

I realize it has been several weeks since I posted here, but really, not hearing from me IS generally a good thing.  Our family has been busy trying to find a new normal and packing as much fun and being together as we could possibly get during these last few weeks of the summer.  

MacKale has been golfing, camping, attended the Cadillac Viking basketball camp, playing with brothers, catching a Tigers game and has been, most importantly, working towards getting healthy and stronger at physical therapy--three times a week.  Oh and he's also infusing himself again.  Woohoo.  

The physical therapy part is a slow process.  It takes a ton of work.  This leg is not the leg he had and it will never be.  Besides having a 7 inch piece of his tibia replaced with a cadaver bone, he had a big hunk of muscle removed and other muscles moved and 5 inches of his fibula just taken out.  Supposedly that fibula is not 'necessary' and so they don't replace what they take of that.  The problem lies, however, in the the fact that all those parts and pieces that used to be attached to the fibula, now are attached to his new tibia. How will that work out? Well, we don't really know.  It means for now that there is a lot of 'give' in the side to side movement of that knee. It's not stable.  We won't know how much of that 'give' will go away until he builds up more muscle, but most likely, he will wear a knee brace of some kind indefinitely and his AFO for the unforeseeable future.  Has this discouraged him? Not yet!  Somehow, despite crutches and braces, he hasn't let it slow him down.  He assured me that this climbing wall was done 'one legged!' 

We know this is the work that needs to be done to get him mobile and moving.  He gets that, too.  He knows that nothing is going to come easy when it comes to mobility anymore.  But right before MacKale left for his second camp of the summer, Camp Catch A Rainbow, he crutched out of physical therapy and said, 'Mom, I have a goal!'

'Ok?' I was a little confused but anxious to hear what he had to say.  I mean, Teri, his physical therapist and all around miracle worker, generally works him pretty hard during his sessions and, while he doesn't complain about it, he generally isn't so enthusiastic afterward . . . I would say 'beat' is usually the state he is in.  But on this particular day, he said that he 'felt really good' about his therapy.

"My goal is that by August 12th I'm going to walk without my crutches. That's the day I'm suppose to golf with Matt, mom!"

"Ok, well . . . we have some work to do!"


Cadillac's MSU Alumni Association had planned an event for the 12th of August including golfing, dinner and a speaker, Mac's favorite Spartan, Matt Costello.  MacKale and Matt have continued to stay in touch, texting several times a week and had plans to golf together along with their dads.  

It was then that MacKale wanted to show Matt that he could walk . . . a big surprise for Matt!

Well that day was yesterday and here's how it went down . . .

He didn't set this goal for his mom --and he didn't do it for his dad--all that work he did to learn to walk without crutches he did to show Matt!  It's been almost a year since we've been able to see MacKale walk without crutches.  If you think my heart didn't nearly explode . . . well . . . I think it might have a little. 

I know that I've said it before, but I can't say it enough.  My heart had been breaking for MacKale since the day I heard the word 'cancer.'  I knew that his life would never be the same . . . I knew that the activities and things he loved to do the most, would be ripped away from this little boy and I didn't know how to fix it . . . I didn't know how to fill that gap that was tearing a hole in his spirit.  My goal was to keep him alive, but in the process, we needed to feed his spirit and keep that alive as well.   But God, in his infinite wisdom, knew what he was doing when Matt Costello's mom handed her phone to MacKale that night that the Viking Basketball team so graciously invited us to be their special guests.  I often wonder . . . if Coach B hadn't invited us to be there, if Matt's mom, Jennifer, hadn't decided to attend to watch her nephew Keegan play, if Jennifer hadn't had the initiative to connect these two  . . . how would MacKale have made it through all these trials? 

But all of those things did happen, and God gets all the glory for knowing that He needed to put these two in the right place at the right time.  I honestly don't know how we would have gotten through all this without Matt and the bonus of his new bride, Anna!  

There are no words that can adequately describe the gratitude that Mike and I have when it comes to Matt and his entire family.  When someone can give your child something that you can not give them . . . when they provide them with a vacation from the pain and the despair of fighting through cancer just by being a friend --you can not imagine what a gift that is.   And if Matt wasn't busy before, he certainly is even more so now with a new wife and working towards securing a NBA career.  Busy--and yet he found time to hang out and hit some balls with Mac! 

Our children often idolize and admire athletes for all the wrong reasons or despite their bad choices.  Lord knows, there are enough athletes out there that are gifted physically and yet, can't seem to stay out of trouble.  Matt offers MacKale the realization that athletes can be gifted and yet still struggle, they suffer disappointments, and have to work past those disappointments and work even harder to meet their goals, but, it's how they handle themselves in these moments, those moments when things aren't so 'easy'  that really matter.  It's having the ability to be gifted and blessed, and yet still having time to remember their faith, their family and their friends.

What a great role model for any child and what an amazing friend for MacKale.
   

These last 10 weeks have been such a blessing to our little family.  There are brief moments in the day, when I almost feel like we are back and our lives are normal.  

But the reality is, while we are so grateful for clear scans in July, we know that the fear of relapse is constantly 'there' in the back of our minds--trying to steal our joy.  It is a constant battle to fight those fears and doubts and we need your prayers to that end.  Pray for our ability to 'walk in faith' each day. MacKale will have many obstacles and challenges in the years to come . . . but with friends praying for him and our family, with people who love him in his corner, and by trusting that God will make something good of all this, I know that we will all get through this.

As always, thanks for being part of our journey and continuing to lift us up in prayer.  We pray that the cancer has left MacKale's body and it never returns, that he can continue to move forward in recovering strength and mobility and that we all will find a way pay forward all the kindness we have been so fortunate to receive in these past months.

Defining our lives . . .

We have so many blessings to be thankful for at the McGuire home these days. It's been a magical three weeks.  No chemo! Woohoo!  Very few labs!  A quarter of the pill intake . . . but the best part is just being together and resuming some familiar routines.  Things we used to take for granted but now see as true blessings in our lives.  Like . . . school! Yes!  I said school!   Both MacKale and I were able to make it back for the last 8 days of the school year including his school trip to Mackinac Island.  Yes, that's right.  A week after finishing chemo, this boy and his dad joined his classmates to trek around the island. No stinkin' crutches were keep him sitting at home.  He was going!

And so we resumed our school life . . . even if it was only for a short time.  At one point, Mac looked at me and said, 'ya know mom, I can't remember the last time I was in school 5 days in a row.'  I replied, ' . . . ya know what?  Neither do I'  It was fabulous!   Of course, it was great just being able to get back to kindergarteners, but even more so, it was such a blessing to be back at school with my other two boys.  Once again, McCoy and MaGill came to school with me each morning, I could sneak a quick squeeze in at lunch and, at the end of the day, they went home with me.  You will never know how incredible that feeling was for me.  I missed them desperately this year and our routine  and was so thankful to have it back.   

That first day when MacKale came into Franklin after returning from the his day at the middle school to meet us, I could hear those familiar crutches coming down the hall.  For a split second, I wondered what my little friends would say to him . . . they hadn't seen him in 9 months.  Would they comment on his lack of hair, maybe that ginormous scar on this leg, or his crutches or brace . . . but nope!  True to kindergarten form, they surprised me with with a  . . . 'Mrs. McGuire, MacKale got SO BIG while he was away at the hospital.'  And this folks, is why I teach 5 year olds.  Cancer Shmancer!  They didn't care.  They just wanted Mac to come back at the end of the day to play and dance to GoNoodle with them like he used to do.   And he did!

We all have just been trying squeeze as much fun and being together as we possibly can into every single day these last three weeks.  

At one point, MaGill was snuggling up to me and said, 'I'm just so happy that MacKale is home mom.  Things are just so much better when we're all together.'  I couldn't agree more.  I'm most happy when all four of my boys are all where they need to be . . . together.

They have been jumping at every possible opportunity to embrace fun.  

 . . . hanging with Papa and the boys at the car show . . .

 . . . channeling their inner silliness . . .

whip creme mustaches

 . . .  playing  . . . a lot . . .

 . . . always up for a game of cards . . .

 . . . focusing on the funny . . .

(My teacher friend Patty has sent MacKale jokes, without fail, for the last nine months---she is our laughter angel.)

 . . . even when the thing that is 'funny' is you!

(Mac decided it was time to change his 'mii' on our Wii system to truly reflect his new look.  What do you think?  There wasn't an option for a bum leg.)

We have also been able to get back to 'our people.'  Our community that has been our family and has supported us with their prayers and good deeds through this fight.

This little town continues to rally and show their support for MacKale, never failing to remind us that they haven't forgotten his fight.   We continue to see #TeamMacKale shirts on young and old and it fills our heart to know that you are still thinking and praying for our family.

 Recently when the annual cardboard boat races were held at the canal,  Lauren and the girls from the Mitchell State Park decided to build a 'Team MacKale' boat to continue to keep Pediatric Cancer in the fore front of our community's thoughts.

It was a great boat design  . . .  

The day of the races, the little boys and I donned our Team MacKale gear and went down to cheer them on.  Just like Mac, that little boat lasted not just one, but several races.  It may have not been the first boat over the finish line, but it kept going.  And as we sat there that day cheering it on, there were visitors to our community that asked us if we were 'with the Team MacKale boat' because of our shirts and the boat design.  The question presented a timely opportunity for me to tell a group of strangers to Cadillac about the incredible community support and the way you have all rallied around MacKale.  I was happy to boast about our wonderful neighbors and friends in the Cadillac area and how extraordinary this place truly is . . . more than a community . . . more like family!

Our end to chemo also allowed us the chance to  get back out to the soccer fields to cheer on MacKale's team in their last game.  These boys have grown so much since when we left them in the fall, both in size and skill.  They blew us all away.  It was truly one of those bitter sweet experiences . . . Mac cheered on his team loud and proud, but at one point he leaned over and said, 'Man mom, I wish I were out there playing.'  I didn't have the heart to tell him I felt the same way.  But the disappointment was fleeting and he was right back cheering them on in the next moment.  It's a bitter pill for him to accept that he won't be playing soccer again . . . that he won't be part of that team in the same way he was . . . but he's learning to accept it, moving forward, trying to discover new ways to stay involved and re-defining himself.

He is moving forward . . .

 . . . working on getting stronger . . . no more wheelchair for this kid  . . . (big cheer from mom and dad for not having to manhandle that beast anymore) . . .

 . . . and tackling PT three times a week.  He's working that leg and getting stronger each time.  We are currently at 70% weight bearing which means it's only a matter of maybe a month or less before we are trying this new leg out.  I'm anxious to see him walk again.  You never realize how much a little thing like seeing your child walk is taken for granted until you watch them struggle with mobility for such a long period of time.  Walking . . . I'm not sure I'll be able to hold it together when it finally happens . . . but I still can't wait to see it.

I am so very guilty of being such a proud momma . . .  so proud of all the progress he's making with Teri at Dynamic Physical Therapy.  She has given him so much confidence and has just the right amount of 'mom to three boys' in her to help him stay focused even when he tries to distract her with endless chatter about sports and trivia during those times when he's feeling less than enthusiastic about an exercise.

We love seeing his progress at just those little things like standing up and sitting with just the use of his legs  . . .

His desire to move forward, get better, start to move and walk is fueled by a desire to do more . . . move more . . . play more . . . And of course, by play, we mean . . . golf . . . 

There is no question in my mind that any boy that's willing to get up at 6am to get ready to golf with his dad before dad has to head into work for the day LOVES golf.  There's even been a resurrection of the infamous  'don't be a golf dinosaur.'  

Second only to golf is fishing . . . 

 . . . a TON of fishing . . .

 . . . and did I mention fishing . . .

He loves it so much, that sometimes he's so dang happy to be fishing that he just has to kiss his catch before releasing it.

It's been blissful.  Truly incredible to have all these weeks.  We haven't taken a single moment of it for granted because tomorrow we are slapped right in the face again with the reality of pediatric cancer.  Tomorrow we spend the day at DeVos for scans . . . because you see, just because you've done the treatment . . . you've endured the chemo . . . and are working at overcoming the surgery and rehabilitation of your defective bone . . . you don't get a free pass.  You don't get the title of 'remission' or 'cured' or even 'done.'  Instead, you get to come back for scans!  Scans to confirm or deny the existence of cancer that may or may not still be lurking in your body somewhere.

For now, MacKale seems pretty blissfully unfazed by scans.  I love that about him!  His main concern is whether after a day at DeVos he will have enough time to stop and hit some balls at Ferris University's Katke Golf Course on the way home.  But for Mike and I, scans kind of bring this whole last year screaming back to the fore front.  We are nervous  . . . and uneasy and this is just the beginning of what we hope to be many many many years of scans, because while the scans detect any cancer that may be lingering or that may have popped back up, they also have the ability to confirm that the cancer has NOT come back.  They can give us the confidence of NED (No Evidence of Disease), and we will take it, even if we have to do it over and over again every three months.

It is our prayer every night with the boys that God bless and care for our friends on the 9th floor of DeVos who are fighting cancer and to also remove the cancer from MacKale's body and "never ever ever let it come back."  

God brought us through this fight so far and we continue to reach for Him for strength as we start this new phase of treatment and healing.  There is no better captain for Team MacKale.  He has been so good to us, and we count ourselves so incredibly fortunate to have had Him speaking to all of you and your hearts as you joined us in fighting for MacKale.   We count your prayers as precious, priceless gifts and, although perhaps greedy, we are asking for more.  Please continue to pray for MacKale.  Specifically, please pray the scans tomorrow (the CT, bone scan, x-rays, mri, lab work and ultrasounds . . .) all give MacKale the status of NED.  Pray for Mike and I to continue to have faith that God is with us and has MacKale in his hands.  Pray that McCoy and MaGill will feel the peace that comes from knowing MacKale is home to stay. And finally, pray that the cancer leaves Mac's body and 'never, ever, ever comes back.'

Finally, I have always said that God will make something good of all this.  I still believe that . . . I'm not sure what it is.  I'm not sure what it means to us. But pray that we will help facilitate that 'good' in the way that He intends and understand the direction He is pointing us towards as a family.

As always, we are so thankful for each and everyone of you.

Now what . . . ?

Chemo is complete!

Did you catch that?  I said, "Chemo is done! Finish! The End!"   After more than 250 days of fighting this beast, this part of the fight is over.  Chemotherapy treatment has been completed.  He rang that lovely bell.

Perhaps we are a bit over zealous in our celebrating, but when you've gone through all the poison, nights away from home, missed events, major surgeries and massive amounts of medicine that Mac has gone through, you want to go out with a BANG and you want to shout it from the roof tops . . . or at least from the side of your vehicle.  "MacKale's last round of chemo!"

Yes it was chemo week, but dang did we celebrate.   So the little boys came down to spend Mac's last day with him.  They went to hospital school  . . . .  (By the way, ummm hospital school had it's last day of school last Friday so 'why are we still in school?' . . . That's what the little boys want to know . . .)

We hip hip hurray-ed with our favorite Ortho PA (Love that Anne . . . ) . . .

. . .  loved on some spiky pets from the zoo . . . (it wasn't puppy week but hedgehogs are a pretty good second place . . .)

and when one of the other little girl, patients wanted to see all the boys on the floor get their nails painted . . . we wanted to see her smile . . . all three boys obliged.

Anything to put a smile on a 9th floor friend's face.

And continue to celebrate each day that we are able to be together at home, at school and with our friends and family.

But what does the end of chemo really mean . . . I mean really?  Aren't we so so so happy?  Well yes, we are elated and over-joyed . . . but at the same time I have to tell you what the end of chemo doesn't mean . . . Unfortunately, it doesn't mean that he is cancer free . . . we just don't know that yet.  There are scans that need to be done and those aren't scheduled until the middle of June.   Osteosarcoma is a beast.  I've told you this before.  It is relentless and frustrating and likes to come back  . . . especially in the lungs.  So we wait those scans on bated breath . . .  The scans will tell us if MacKale has 'No Evidence of Disease' (or NED)  I love Ned, I want Ned . . . Ned needs to come live with us and take residence in our lives forever!   So when you pray for MacKale . . . pray for NED.   Because of osteosarcoma's relentless personality, we will continue to have scans every three months for the first two years, then every six months until he hits the 5 year mark.  When you hit the five year mark . . . well that's when they believe you're in the clear for relapse.

Now you understand why I tell you . . . osteosarcoma is a beast . . . this journey is not a short one and we WILL celebrate every milestone and every day.  Because no matter what, each day that MacKale is with us, he is a survivor.

So we are living our lives!  MacKale and I are blissfully happy to be back at school.  Sunday night was like the first day of school for us.  I think we both were excited and a little nervous at the same time.  Mac mentioned . . . "mom, I can't remember when I have been in school five days in a row. . ."  I had to admit . . ."neither did I." I'm back with my kinder friends at Franklin and he's at the Middle School.  Most days he's there half a day so he can attend PT in the afternoon and he then shows up in my classroom at the very end of the day.  My sweet kinder babies remember him well from when he would come help them at the beginning of the year.  I was thinking that when they saw him they would comment about him losing his hair, but all they kept saying is " . . . MacKale, you got so big!  We missed you!"  Thank you my little friends.  This is why I teach kindergarten.   They always know exactly what to say.

He's sporting a new brace now too!  And  . . . drum roll please . . . wearing TWO shoes!  He's trying to put more weight on that leg  . . . and working towards getting mobile.  Because you know . . . there's golf to be played and camp and brothers to be bugging and . . . he just has stuff to do.  And we are so glad that is is excited and anxious to get out there and do it!

While it is so incredibly good to be home and away from the hospital, I will tell you, it is a bit of a doubled edged sword.  While we are delighted to be done with chemo, we are not naive about osteosarcoma.   I worry that because we aren't fighting the cancer actively with chemo, it will come back.  It makes me desperately miss my staff at DeVos, the experts that have supported, cared and held us up during this fight.  The love I feel for this people is to big for words, and I depended on them.

But this is where faith comes in . . . and this is where we put it to work. Yes, I have that nagging worry and fear in the back of brain, but I have to believe that God has our family in his hands . . . He will lead us through this with all of your help.

I started this blog to solicit prayers for MacKale during his fight against cancer, and I will continue to beg you for more and more and more . . . unrelenting prayers on his behalf.  We know this road is hard, but it has been bearable . . . sometimes even a pleasure because you have all been with us.  We can't do it alone.  I know that some folks are very private about their cancer fight and I respect and completely understand their need to be private.   Everyone deals with this fight in their own way.

We (or maybe it's more accurate to say "I" because, quite honestly, my poor family had no choice.  I was determined to get prayers for Mac.), for better or worst,  decided to lay it all out there -- all our fears--our treatment--the good--the bad--and the ugly, because we ARE weak and we DO need you. Selfishly, I can't imagine doing this without all of you.  So please keep us in your prayers.   We are not done yet . . . God isn't done with us yet . . . I told you I believe He will make something good of this . . . There still more to this story and we need you to be part of it.

Thank you always for loving us enough to keep us in your thoughts and prayers.  God has blessed us greatly with each and every one of you.