From Take Care of My Child…for a While by Joyce Sawyer
Too soon it was time to go home and get ready for the next trip to the hospital. I had to pack the trailer again. This was to be a longer trip because of the operation and recovery.
Ricky began complaining of his neck hurting. I thought it might be because of the long trip and being tired, but it seemed I could see a lump developing.
Ricky continued to complain of the pain. I gave him Tylenol, but it didn’t seem to help. Then on Tuesday, he asked to go back to the hospital. I knew he must really feel desperate if he was asking to go back. He was supposed to go on Thursday anyway, so I called to see if we could come a couple of days early. They said yes, to bring him right in.
Of course, there is no “right in.” It takes three or four hours. Anyway, we put Ricky in the back seat and fixed him as well as we could and went to Stanford Children’s.
They started an IV and started medication to ease the pain. The lump had doubled by now and was evident at a glance.
The doctor examined, X-rays were taken, and soon it was determined that the cancer was back and more of the vertebrae were missing or crumbling. The surgeon said he could not chance an operation through the cancer and there was no bone to fuse.
Ricky was relieved at not having to go through another surgery, but he didn’t grasp at the time what that meant.
In the meantime, Dale had gone home and pulled the trailer down, thinking we would be staying for a long time.
Now Dr. Wilbur called us in to his office. “There is nothing more we can do. We have used everything available to us. Any further radiation would be fatal. All we can do from now on is make Ricky as comfortable as possible and his life as full as it can be. You are welcome to stay here or you may take Ricky home. It is yours and Ricky’s decision. Of course, he will have to stay here until we can control the pain and the lack of bladder function.”
We talked about staying or going home. Ricky wanted to go home. I said I would manage at home as long as I could. The doctor said the disease was unpredictable, but at the rate of growth, he figured Ricky had a week or ten days.
I was stunned. That short? I knew he felt he was being strangled and he was frightened and panicky at times. He also was in pain—but a week?
We packed our things for another long ambulance ride. We said goodbye to everybody. I knew Ricky would not be back.
When we arrived at home, we put the futon on the living room floor so Ricky could watch color TV and be where the family was.
Dale had also gotten him his own black and white TV to be near his bed. He could still work it with his good hand. Already he was losing control of his bladder and, at times, he couldn’t move his legs. The lump was half the size of his neck now and, when the medicine wore off, he felt choked.
Chapter 19 to follow
