One Year

One year ago today I woke up, got ready, and loaded Kate in the car.

I drove the all too familiar route to Texas Children's.

I parked in Garage 16 - level B4 - in "my" spot and stopped on the 3rd floor for a cup of coffee.

I took the elevators up to the Cancer Center on the 14th floor.

Veronica, our favorite phelbotomist, took Kate's blood while Mrs. Teresa, our favorite tech, sang to her.  After 8 months of  1-5 blood draws a week we learned that Mrs. Teresa's singing kept Kate happy while she was poked.

KSBJ was on the radio.  I Will Lift My Eyes by Bebo Norman was playing.  Veronica always had KSBJ playing.  I loved that I was able to listen to worship music at the start of every stressful appointment.

After her blood draw we waited in the waiting room. 

Alex showed up.  He didn't normally come to routine appointments - there were just too many for him to take off work every single time.  But I had a bad feeling about this appointment and asked him to meet me at Texas Children's that morning.

It must have been raining, or expected to rain, because I vividly remember Alex walking off the elevators carrying an umbrella. 

As soon as I saw him I felt a sense of comfort. 

I knew I needed him by my side that day.

While waiting, Kate's hematologist, Dr. Patel, walked through the waiting room.  She ignored us which was very abnormal. 

I knew something was wrong and I vocalized my fears to Alex.

He told me to calm down.  That everything was ok.  I was working myself up for nothing. 

Our buzzer went off and we were taken to the first exam room in the green pod.  There was a book about children around the world in the room as well as a little toddler sized chair.

Kate had just started walking and insisted on pushing that chair around the exam room. 

Back and forth.  Back and forth.

Dr. Patel came in the room.  She attempted to have small talk but I could tell something was off. 

Then, I heard the words I will never forget.

"Well, remember that rare genetic test we've been waiting on results for? Congenital Amegakryocytic Thrombocytopenia? Kate's results were faxed in this morning. Unfortunately, Kate tested positive for CAMT and will need a bone marrow transplant as soon as possible."

I just sat there. 

Alex picked up Kate. 

She threw a fit because she wanted to keep pushing that chair back and forth.

Dr. Patel got up,  walked to the chair I was sitting in, gave me a hug, and we both started crying.

I sobbed big, hot tears. 

Kate's amazing doctor sobbed them right with me.

Shocked. Heart broken. Terrified. Determined.

One year.

Three hundred and sixty five days.

On June 7, when I blogged about the journey we were about to embark on, I said that "we serve a mighty God who will wrap his arms around my family and carry us through this journey."

He did. 

He carried us through. 

One year post diagnosis.

Nine months and five days post transplant.

What a year this has been.