I'd be remiss not to open this post by saying thanks to everyone. Regardless of what's to come your kind words and expressions of love are truly meaningful to us, and, I think, to others who see them.
We chose to be very public about everything from the beginning. Writing would be cathartic, I thought, and maybe be a way to show other parents going through similar situations what it might be like. Friends and family could catch up on what was new and how Dom was doing.
What we never expected was to be in touch with so many people who we'd never met. Cancer parents, sure. But random people who found our blog, friends of friends, even the odd high-profile public figure? Not a chance.
But it turns out Dominic has too big a smile to be contained.
The numbers remain grim. The blasts of cancerous cells in his blood, which were as high as 13 before they miraculously went back down again a few weeks ago, are back. They'd gone down to as low as three, but today they are at 16.4. Doctors call this blasting out, and is a typical end-of-life situation.
How much time that gives Dominic, we don't know. And yes, there's always the hope of another miracle. I'd rather be realistic and hope for a trip.
A wish trip. He doesn't wish for more than thumbs up and smiles from everyone he meets. He has no clue who Mickey Mouse is nor does he care if he gets to skip the lines at It's a Small World. Heck, a trip outside the hospital would be better than what he's dealt with most of the past two years.
But that's been his normal. What those of us weary of the world have a hard time grasping is that our hell — chemotherapy, isolation, fed through a tube, oxygen up your nose — is his day-to-day. He was 11 months old when he was diagnosed. Sept. 12, 2013.
So when the respiratory team told Trish today that Dom is cleared to fly to Orlando for seven days at Give Kids the World resort, all he cared about was that mom didn't have the soother he wanted. The green one with blue trim.
Other doctors have noted that for most kids, this trip would be out of the question. Too dangerous, too complicated. He'll need platelet transfusions every day. He might not actually go to Disneyworld for all we know. Maybe his condition worsens so much that we can't go much further than the hospital and back.
That's not the plan, of course, but like so many things we are ready to roll with the punches life gives us.
We fly Saturday morning, with hearts that are full but also so heavy. We know you'll be with us. You've helped get us this far. Like Dominic, you will be with us forever.