Counting Blessings--and Remembering

It was the day before Thanksgiving nineteen years ago when my second daughter, Natalie, woke up very ill. She was just six weeks away from the open heart surgery that corrected a congenital heart defect (vsd), and she had a fever and was vomiting.  She was 5 1/2 months old, and she was still very small for her age because of failing to thrive for the first four months of life due to the defect.  We called the pediatrician who said to come right in.  Since we had been so consumed with her heart health since her birth, we assumed there must be a problem.  They took blood, and it showed an unbelievably high white count (sign of infection).  It was such an unexpected result that they repeated the test.  The pediatrician contacted the cardiologist who said to come right in.  

It was an unusually warm, sunny 60' day in November in Minnesota.  I had already done the Thanksgiving shopping, decorated the table with fresh flower arrangements.  We were expecting my sister to arrive from New York.  Yet, we found ourselves at Children's Hospital once again.  The cardiologist quickly determined there was nothing wrong with her heart and contacted the oncology service for further testing.  We were immediately admitted to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, which we were familiar with having spent time there after her heart surgery.  It was surreal.  

More blood was drawn.  I tried to comfort Natalie.  We were waiting.  Then our cardiologist, Dr. Singh, walked in to tell us that Natalie had leukemia.  I didn't hear it, because when the oncologist came in to tell us that they are pretty certain which kind of leukemia we were dealing with (Acute Myelogenous Leukemia) the more aggressive type of leukemia, I didn't comprehend what she was saying either.  I couldn't believe there was anything so wrong with my precious baby girl.  

And just like that, our lives changed forever.  

I got to spend the night with Natalie in the PICU even though that wasn't usually allowed.  I held her in the bed and tried to comfort her, as life as I ever knew it came tumbling down around me.  It was not just Thanksgiving that was spent in Children's Hospital.  It was Christmas, New Years, Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, and then finally, on a snowy Easter morning we got to bring our Natalie home for good with a feeding tube, a methadone drip, a catheter inside her chest.  Life was truly upside down.

I cannot help remembering that year, every single year.  I wish I could forget, but the PTSD that I got from the hospital experience won't let me.  So, it is nineteen years later, and despite the pandemic and all the ups and downs the world has seen, I remain blessed beyond belief for my daughter, for her survival after three resuscitations, for her life, for her health and for the health of my family.