It's been a while since we last posted an update. We've been busy with the arrival of our new baby boy, Rory, and Larue's continued treatment. And honestly-- sometimes it's hard to find the words to describe all the ways that cancer affects your life and daily routine.
Currently, I write this update in a hotel room on the eve of the one year "anniversary" of Rue's diagnosis. Wow. This year has been a blur. While it's hard to believe it's been a year already, I wish that we could just press fast forward to March 3rd, 2015. That date will be Larue's last scheduled treatment.
Everyone is always curious to know, "How's she doing?" Truthfully, she's great. She's active, happy, and growing so fast. It makes it easy to forget she's sick sometimes. However, the scheduled 2.5 hour drives to Chapel Hill, the port in her chest, and the monthly steroid-induced meltdowns suckerpunch you back into reality. Despite the fact that she "looks great", you still live in fear of the results from every blood test. Any fever could mean an immediate trip to the emergency room. You second guess every bruise on her body and wonder what she really means when she says she doesn't feel good.
We'll go to clinic in the morning. They'll take Rue's blood pressure, measure her height, and record her weight. She'll then skip down the hall to play in the toy room alongside other kids with bald heads and puffy "steroid cheeks." Eventually we'll meet with a nurse who will put a needle in her chest, draw her blood, and give her a quick flush of chemo. She'll cry the entire time. They'll later give us the results of her blood tests and we'll head home. She'll begin a one week steroid regimen that will replace our sweet child with the crabbiest three year old this side of the Mississippi. She'll also gain terrible itchiness that will keep her awake at night and she'll sob for me to help scratch her legs for relief. I'll oblige her and give her kisses on her forehead to help calm her down.When she was born, we always said that we just hoped she'd be healthy . That same sentiment carries new meaning with the birth of Rory.
In spite of all that's happened over the last year, we consider ourselves lucky: lucky to have great doctors. Lucky to have jobs that allow us to put family first. Lucky to have made new friends at clinic who understand how all this feels. Lucky to have the support of so many wonderful people. Thank you to all of you for the love, contributions, and well-wishes over the last year. You will never know how much we appreciate it. From the bottom of our hearts,-- thank you, thank you, thank you.We still have a hell of a long way to go, but it's nice to know that our little girl has a lot of people in her corner.
Had some great results yesterday-- no visible leukemia found in Larue's blood. This means that treatment is going well-- Chemo is doing its job. We will continue with steroids and intensive treatment this month, after which we will begin Phase 2: killing all the problematic cells/leukemia not visible under the microscope.
Additionally, her hair has begun to fall out/ thin, so we cut it pretty short tonight. Pics to follow.
Speaking of cutting hair... Wanna win a $25 gift card? Our friend, Jocelyn, has graciously decided to donate her hairPlace a guess for how many inches she will be cutting off. It's just $5 per guess-- simply make your donation via www.gofundme.com/HollyLarue and leave your guess in the comments. Winner gets a $25 gift card and a special present from Larue. Thanks!
At just two years old, Holly Larue Frizzelle was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia over the Christmas holiday season. With a new baby on the way, her parents (Leilani and Jason) have been suffering every parent's worst nightmare. There has been an overwhelming outpour of support and requests to contribute to her medical costs. Any donation, big or small, is greatly appreciated and will go directly to helping Larue win this battle.