The Day My Heart Was Broken - Part Two

Wes decided to check with a nurse on the floor to see if she had any idea what was going on. She said she'd check for us. She came in a few minutes later, all smiles, telling us that everything was going fine, they just weren't finished yet. One more hour went by. Then the same nurse came in and said, "Your son is just waking up and the MRI is finished. Please follow me." She was not all smiles anymore. I had no idea where we were going, but it soon become clear we were not following her to the MRI department but to a conference room. My heart immediately started to race. We stepped into the conference room and the spine specialist from Tualatin was sitting in the room. I said to Wes, "That's the doctor we saw in Tualatin. What's he doing here?" I instantly knew then and there, the answer to my question. Something was wrong. I felt dizzy and sick to my stomach.

The doctor was very grave. We sat down in some chairs facing him. He said very slowly and somberly, "I'm afraid the MRI found something, and it's not good....at all. Your son has a very large tumor in his spinal cord. We think he may have some tumor in his brain, as well." Wes and I just sat there, holding hands, completely frozen. It took a few seconds for the information to register. He continued, "This is outside my area of expertise. I deal specifically with the bones of the spine, but your son needs to see a neurosurgeon. A pediatric surgeon named Dr. Monica Wheby has been called, and she's on her way to the hospital right now to talk with you. I'm very sorry..." He was visibly upset.

We asked Dr. Keenan some questions, which he was reticent to answer. I recall Wes saying over and over, "I didn't sign up for this." It was a pretty short meeting. We got up and started walking back. It felt like I was walking in a fog, or a cloud. We entered the hospital room, and Daniel was there, lying in a bed. He was still groggy from the anesthesia, but awake. He looked so precious and beautiful and sweet lying there. I wanted to hold him. But I just sat next to his bed and combed my fingers through his hair and told him how much I loved him.

But I didn't break down. Courage and strength had risen up from somewhere deep inside, and I was able to stay fairly calm. The interview I had watched of Lisa Beamer kept running over and over in my mind. The neurosurgeon eventually arrived. She was a woman in her early 40's. She had come from home and was wearing street clothes. By the time the surgeon had come to speak with us, she'd already taken a look at the scans and had seen Daniel's chart. Essentially, this is the gist of her conversation with us: Spinal cord tumors are very rare - not many doctors can say they have a lot of experience operating on them. I believe this tumor could be an ependymoma. Ependymomas are relatively easy to remove - they come out almost in one piece, kind of like a noodle. We need to do a biopsy first. I will remove a piece of the tumor and a flash pathology will determine what kind of tumor it is. If the tumor is an ependymoma, then I will continue with the surgery and try to remove it." She seemed confident, even cocky, and cheerful. She didn't wish to talk about anything beyond the impending biopsy and surgery, so we had very little to go on in terms of how this disease is managed, the survival rates, whether chemo and/or radiation would be recommended, etc...By this time, it was very late, around midnight. Daniel was asleep. We were advised to get some sleep. The toughest, most incredible journey of our lives was just beginning.