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This is cancer.

“Hello! This is Children’s Hospital calling to go over pre admission questions before Brady’s upcoming bone marrow biopsy. Is now a good time?”

Me, Silence.

Sweet lady on the other end of the phone, “Ummm hello?”

A little more silence.

“I’m just really confused.” I finally said. “Brady isn’t supposed to have any more biopsies. We had no idea this was planned…”

“Oh. Do you want to talk to his doctor then? I can call you back tomorrow if that is better.”

“Yes, tomorrow is better. I will find out what is going on.”

I was standing in the middle of all our battle pups preparing everything to be moved the next day. I stood there in total confusion as I pulled up Brady’s myChart to message his doctor. I figured it was just surely some sort of error.

Oh how I wish it had been an error.

Yesterday, the one year anniversary of Brady’s leukemia diagnosis, we got word that there was “a small evidence of disease found” during his last biopsy.

I felt like I had been put into a glass room and all the air had been sucked out.

I felt like I was unable to breathe at all.

The past couple weeks we have watched as fellow warriors have lost their battles with cancer. It has been heartbreaking to see kids just like Brady, even around the same age and diagnosed around the same time, leave this earth.

And as I spoke with his doctor my head kept asking, “is this how their ends began? Is this what it feels like?”

This is cancer.

This is living life on eggshells not knowing when or how it may come back.

This is feeling hopeless and heartbroken in an instant.

Right now we really have no need to worry. Or so, that is what I’m told. These few cells they found could have already been eradicated by the immunotherapy that he is taking, but the only way to know is through another biopsy.

So Tuesday we will go in at day +180 from his transplant and Brady will have another bone marrow biopsy to figure out where we go from here.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I have literally cried off and on for two days. I thought I would have some huge celebratory post for his one year diagnosis anniversary yesterday, but instead my heart feels like the cracks have come back to the surface. Some of the wounds feel all too fresh. Many of the scars suddenly feel unhealed.

And all of it happened in an instant.

Waymaker, Miracle worker, Promise keeper, we need you Lord. Only you can deliver us from the fires. We need your love and your peace to flood into every spec of our worried hearts and souls tonight, Lord.

Shields up.

Swords out.

Scared to battle again,



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