Catch-up (part two)

Next stop on memory lane, St Andrew's and our weekend away to celebrate the end of Adam's intensive phase of chemotherapy.

We drove down on Friday afternoon, just after the boys got home from school. An hour or so of driving and we stopped off just after the bridge for a nice pub dinner, finishing up our drive by seven pm.

It was a lovely, sunny weekend--full of light and opportunities to walk outdoors, sit on benches and play on the playground.

In the evening we went on a forest walk called the Snowdrop Festival--it was put on specially by a local family and their whole estate was decorated with lights and permeated throughout by the famous snowdrop flowers. Here is Caleb "hiding" in one of the tents made by branches woven together:

On Sunday morning we accompanied Jacqueline and Ames (our hosts for the weekend) to their church where we enjoyed a traditional Church of Scotland service and a sermon about the Queen's Diamond Jubilee which is this year.

It was a great weekend and we were grateful for the Broen's hospitality and the chance to get away for the first time since Agnes' birth and Adam's diagnosis. Indeed, there was a LOT to celebrate and a lot to be grateful for still.

Milestones

10 February 2012: Day 238--Finished with intensive

Today we are celebrating, and with good cause: Adam finished the intensive part of his treatment when the last dose of chemo was given at 3:30pm this afternoon. I wasn't sure it would happen after the suspense of the week and yesterday's drama, but it did. The only slight catch was that the doctor had to give the chemo as Adam only has a peripheral IV line just now, and there is a danger to his tissue if the line breaks and the chemo spills into his arm, but it all went very well and we were out by 4pm.

We started the party at Casa di Gelato on King street, with two of their famous ice cream sundaes--here are the boys ready to tuck in:

Mom and sister helped of course!!

Not much partying tonight as Adam has to spend one more night in hospital to finish up his IV antibiotics. He's out tomorrow morning though, and no looking back!

The top line of this post refers to my journal entry for today. It has been eight months--238 days--since Adam's diagnosis on June 18, 2011. This is not the end--he will start maintenance soon and that lasts for at least 18 months. He will need another port. He will be in hospital again someday soon enough. But it is both an end to the intensive, frightening, always changing part of treatment and a beginning of reclaiming some whisper of a normal life amidst the howling winds of the "long term illness". For now, we are content.

Well done Adam, you are a champion and a testimony to the power of living in the present and soldiering on to the end with your head held high and your cloud of witnesses surrounding you.