My
son Yarden was born July 9th, 1994. Healthy and big (almost 10 pounds) he was
born C-section. Despite the shock of parenthood (!), I loved him more than I had
ever loved another creature...
He
was always healthy and happy - except for face rashes... and then when he was
almost 2, (June 12th, 1996), he had
a fever for a few days that didn't go away and he was upset and inconsolable.
The third doctor to see him finally sent us to the Emergency Room at our local
hospital (10 minutes walk from our house) and he was admitted with suspicion of
pneumonia (at first). By noon he was hooked up to a respirator and that night
had surgery from 9 pm until 2 am - where they removed his entire right lung...
he almost bled to death...
I
was so happy that he was still alive that I didn't even blink when the surgeon
said he probably had cancer...
He
had further surgery on the stump of that lung in October 1996, after a
bronchoscopia that nearly killed him.
Yarden
had the VAC treatment for a year. He was off chemo for 2 months, when he awoke
one afternoon and couldn't get out of bed - I thought it was a leg problem. They
had said he was limping through the VAC treatment as a side effect of
Vincristin... When he got a head CT it confirmed a large (grapefruit sized)
tumor in his brain.
He
had about 4 or 5 surgeries to his brain - the tumor kept coming back... and 1
month of radiation and more chemo... In May 1998, a doctor we went to for
consultation told us that Yarden would probably not survive. We asked
percentages...and the doctor almost choked when he told us – “…actually
0% of survival...” I
remember walking the corridors of that hospital, holding on to Roy (my husband)
and bawling my eyes out. I just wanted to crawl under a stone and disappear.
All
through those 2 years of treatment, I kept wanting to wake up from the
nightmare...
Somehow
I was able to pull myself together and with a couple of doctors we decided to
try an even more intensive chemo treatment - still hoping for a cure rather than
"maintenance"... The new treatments were very difficult for Yarden,
but together with a Chinese herbal medication, bought him almost 5 months more.
Just
between Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur, on a Friday night - Yarden passed away. We
were prepared. He had had his last surgery 2 weeks earlier and the surgeon said
"no more". We decided to keep him at home... he was weak, but still
cute and funny his last week. He went to preschool that Friday... then after his
nap - he didn't want to wake up - said his head hurt. I lay him on my lap and
held him. He stopped crying and drifted into a coma. At 3 a.m. he stopped
breathing... Roy and I stayed by his side until the morning when we called the
doctor and the ambulance to take him away.
Recalling
the whole thing now, brings tears again to my eyes, and I don't know sometimes
how I managed to stay together, go back to work, be a good (enough) mother to
Naomi, get pregnant again...
But
it was Yarden who taught me, more than anyone - how precious life is - how
precious our children are, and how without pain you cannot know true
happiness...
I
know he is happy now, his soul in existence in another place... on rare
occasions he comes to me and to Roy in our dreams - and to Naomi I think more
often, as she talks about him quite a lot.
A letter from Mommy - November 15th, 1999
My son has cancer (the diagnosis) - Fall 1996
Hosen - "Cancer Patients who Fight" - Israel - http://www.hosen.co.il
Caring parents - an email support list...
And a large and loving group of friends and family!