Jan 30 10
I wrote this yesterday, but my dad posted, so I waited…
Yesterday, January 29, marked 3 years since Andrew’s diagnosis. In a way, 3 years seems like such a long time since the diagnosis, but at the same time, it feels like just yesterday.
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3 years ago today, for me,…
…my life changed forever. The day started like any normal school day, except I noticed Andrew wasn’t getting ready for school. As I was heading downstairs, I noticed Andrew lying on the floor in my parents’ bedroom. My mom said he still wasn’t feeling well, which surprised me. I knew he wasn’t feeling well on the 27th but he never got sick, so I thought it’d be gone by the 29th. I said good-bye to Andrew and my parents and my mom dropped me off at school. It was a normal school day.
After school, I got a call from my mom asking me if I could get a ride home with someone else. She said that Andrew still wasn’t feeling well and that they were at AI. Immediately, my heart sunk. By that point, there wasn’t a diagnosis, but I just knew it wasn’t good. I could just feel it; it’s hard to explain. Because of the feeling I had, that it wasn’t going to be good news, I got my homework done for the week as I waited for my ride home. My friend was supposed to take me home, but all of a sudden my uncle showed up. My heart started racing. This couldn’t be good. I left with him and he took me home where my MomMom was waiting for me. I had absolutely no idea what was going on. My parents weren’t home and we hadn’t gotten any news. MomMom and I waited to hear what was going on.
Suddenly, my dad came home and asked that we all sit down on the couch in the family room. He said that Andrew had just been diagnosed with Leukemia, but that he could beat it. I broke down. Through tears, I made a few quick phone calls. My dad and I rushed upstairs and packed our bags to head to the hospital.
We got to the hospital just as they began rushing Andrew to the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit). My mom told us that Andrew’s stats had begun to drop and they thought he may be septic. We got to the PICU and doctors kept running in and out of his room. Initially, my parents were in the room with Andrew, but they had to wait outside the room when things got worse. There were so many doctors, nurses and so much equipment in there to keep Andrew alive. Every time the door opened for a doctor to run in or out, we screamed to Andrew to keep fighting and to let him know how much we love him. I remember my Dad with his face pressed against the window looking in at Andrew. Our extended family began showing up and before long we had a huge crowd in the hallway of the PICU and in the PICU waiting room. Honestly, as I screamed to Andrew I didn’t even know other people were in the unit. I didn’t even realize there were so many rooms in the unit; all I could see was one door, Andrew’s. Andrew was now declared to be in Septic Shock. I didn’t know what that meant until later, and I’m glad. Had I known that, as I stood outside his door, his heart had stopped and they were resuscitating him, I think I would’ve been sick myself. His heart had stopped and his blood pressure was rapidly dropping. They had to pump fluids into him to keep him alive. He went from 130 lbs. to 195 lbs. within hours due to the fluids. He was put on a ventilator to help him breathe. It was so difficult to see him like that. This was all to new to my family and to see Andrew with IV’s in him, a breathing tube, and so swollen from the fluids was heartbreaking. I can still picture it…
He fought for hours that night. He surprised the doctors with his strength and determination. He never gave up and I couldn’t be prouder.
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3 years ago today, for Andrew,…
…he and my mom relaxed at home and watched TV, hoping Andrew would start to feel better. As you’ve all heard, Andrew never complained, and if he did, we knew it was serious. Andrew told my mom that his right side was really hurting him. My dad had his appendix removed when he was around Andrew’s age, so we thought it was just that. My mom brought Andrew to the pediatrician’s office. Once there, they waited…and waited…and waited. You’d think that if someone came into the doctor’s office saying that their child was in serious pain and that it was an emergency he’d be seen, right? Apparently not. It got to the point where Andrew asked my mom to take him to AI because he couldn’t wait any longer. That is SO frustrating to me. (And yes, I switched doctors after that.)
Andrew was told that he had Leukemia. Right after he was told, he asked my parents two questions: 1. “Can I shave my hair before it falls out?” and 2. “What do I tell my friends?” It’s heartbreaking to think about what was going through his mind. Was he scared? We tried to control his pain, but did the pain medicine work? Did he feel alone? Could he feel that he was becoming septic? I can’t imagine what he was thinking…
Andrew fought so hard. Despite all the odds thrown against him, he made it through the night. I’m so glad for that. The 166 “bonus days” he gave us were some of the best days of my life, as strange as that seems since we were in the hospital. It didn’t matter where we were. The four of us were together. The nights when the four of us slept in Andrew’s hospital room were the greatest. The days when Andrew asked for me while I was at school, and was so excited to know I was there once I got to the hospital were so heartwarming. Not once was Andrew alone. I know he knows how much we love him and I know how much he loves us.
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As real as the pain is, my life often seems so surreal. I can’t believe that my younger brother is in Heaven. I can’t believe that I can’t go to anymore soccer games. I can’t believe that I won’t wake up and see him getting ready for school ever again. I can’t believe that I won’t ever get to see him get married. It’s unreal.
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One night, before everything happened with us, Andrew and I were watching the Real World/Road Rules Challenge. I remember this night so clearly. Diem, one of the girls on the show, had been diagnosed with cancer. She had lost her hair from the chemo and wore a wig for most of the episodes. I remember Andrew and I both said how bad we felt for her and admired her strength. I remember saying to Andrew that I couldn’t imagine what I would do if he ever got cancer. Of course I never expected it to happen less than a year later…
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Prayers requested for:
1. Please continue to keep Ethan Williams’ family in your prayers. I know Andrew was up there waiting for Ethan. I’m sure they’re talking about the Phillies and playing baseball. I know Andrew will take good care of Ethan.
Now is when we have to truly rally around Ethan’s family, his parents and his brother, Jake. They’re experiencing their worst nightmare. I wish there was something we could do to make them feel better, but unfortunately I haven’t found anything for myself yet either.
Please let them know you’re thinking of them at www.caringbridge.org/visit/ethanmaxwilliams
2. Please pray for the 46 families who will be told their child has cancer today.
I can’t wait for the day when we don’t need to have The Andrew McDonough B+ Foundation, as that will mean that a cure was found and no other families have to experience such pain.
-“Andrew’s Sister”