The Results Are In

Great news: no chemotherapy is recommended for now. I can't even digest that. I've had so many emotions these last few days that I haven't fully felt the impact of all of them. I'm wondering if I've felt the impact of any of them, actually. I've just been managing the crisis. Turning into the skid. But I know that in a few hours, maybe days, when I fully understand what good news this is, I'll be ecstatic.

So here's the deal. The pathology report is that this is garden-variety ependymoma. Not anything that's more aggressive than usual. The oncologist told us that with I think she called it a gross total tumor resection (what the rest of us would call "they got it all"), the rate of recurrence is the same with or without chemotherapy. So they're going to err on the side of not poisoning my child.

Ependymoma will recur in about 1/3 of cases within the first two years. So we're going to have an MRI for Teague every three months for the next two years, and if it doesn't start up again during that time, they'll take it down to every four to six months for the following three years. That will get us to the magic five-year cancer survivor mile marker.

If it does come back, it's likely to be in the same spot, and they'll either hit it with the poison or do another surgery and then hit it with the poison. I'm not thinking about those things right now because there's a 2/3 chance I won't have to. And I don't have room in my brain to think past tomorrow anyway.

I am happy that for now my child can just heal from his surgery and go back to being a normal kid, this time with an appetite. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about not doing chemotherapy. Sounds twisted, but I just think, if there's some in there, let's kill it. It's probably a good thing that they won't risk overtreating.

As far as radiation goes, it's the most effective treatment for ependymoma, but they don't do it in kids this little. Those little developing brains can end up with neurologic problems if they zap them with radiation. They like kids to be at least three years old, and Teague turned two exactly one month (to the day) before his surgery. So that's out.

I also had a fear that three months is a long time to wait to find out if there are any little stray cancer cells in my baby's brain that may be already growing. But the oncologist assured me that if there are, they wouldn't even be able to see them six weeks from now. So I can wait the three months for them to check again.

I know that my child is more blessed than I can comprehend. And that's a comment both on the goodness of God and the friedness of my mind.