Port – Bell – Party

Big news! Tate had the surgery to remove his port on Friday morning! If you’re not sure what that means, a port is a small device that was surgically inserted in his chest the first week he was diagnosed with Leukemia. It allows a patient to have chemotherapy, fluids, and medications dropped directly into their bloodstream near the heart so it travels through the body very quickly. Ports also eliminate the need for IV’s, which was a plus for Tate because he finds them very uncomfortable. The downside of the port is that we constantly and accidentally hurt Tate when he was very sick when we tried to help him into his wheelchair or bed, lift him after he had fallen, or help him get dressed. It’s a big, big thing that the port is gone. Huge.

Being inside the PCH main campus brought back a flood of memories, most of them really sad. Greg and I have both said it, Phoenix Children’s Hospital is a great place for something terrible to happen. PCH patients are getting the best possible care available at a beautiful facility, and just by walking through the door, you know you’re doing as much as you possibly can for your child. Still, heartache is a reality for many. At one point I left Tate in the waiting area and hid in the bathroom and cried. When I exited, a man about my age was coming out of the men’s room and his eyes were as red as mine. We looked at each other and understood the other’s pain without saying a word and walked our separate ways.

A funny thing: our across-the-street neighbor was one of the post-op nurses on Tate’s surgery day! I got a text from her saying that Tate was “sleeping like a baby” before the doctor had even made his way to the waiting room to give me an update. It was so reassuring to get her message! Pretty cool to see her doing her thing at work, too.

Tate was very cross with me when he woke up from anesthesia. I wasn’t bothered by it at all – it was so funny. He was giving me the business about everything! They let us leave almost right after he woke up, and Greg was outside waiting for us, completely untraumatized from not going into the hospital due to COVID protocols allowing one parent per patient. He waited with Tate at the curb while I went to get the car, and who did I pass on the stairs? The same guy who had left the bathroom crying at the same time I did! This time he gave me a fist bump and nodded, and neither one of us was crying.

Tomorrow Tate has his first post-treatment checkup. If his blood work is clear, he’ll get to ring the bell to mark the end of his cancer treatment. It’s such a special day. We have walked past that bell since May 2018, and tomorrow is Tate’s day to ring it!

Saturday morning we are having an open house to celebrate the end of Tate’s treatment. If you’re local and would like to stop by, we’d love to see you. We ask that if you do not attend if you are not vaccinated or if you feel sick – it’s likely Tate’s immune system will take several months to recover, and the kid has already been through so much.