10 Apr End of Treatment – A Milestone with a Difference
Today I went for run in the rain. I’m not really a runner and usually steer well clear of rain but today I made a conscious decision to throw myself into the elements. Why? I wanted to feel something.
As Felix nears the end of treatment, a sense of excitement is building all around us. This is the thing, it is around us not really within us. We are literally days away now from that date, 26th April 2019, but we have no idea what this means. It’s not something that is usually marked. In a child’s milestones, there is the end of the dummy or the potty or nappies at night. The end of stabilisers, bedtimes stories or primary school. It’s what kids do; it’s what we recognise, celebrate and pop in the memory box knowing that the future will hold greater and more exciting times.
Finishing treatment for cancer does not usually feature at the end of term achievements, first date conversations or the best man’s speech but this is THE biggest milestone of my son’s life. It is the biggest milestone in our family history so far. The enormity of it makes me feel numb.
Of course, we are excited to see what Felix will become without the shackles of daily chemotherapy, blood tests and appointments. For the last 3 years, his wings have been clipped both physically, academically and socially. I want to see him fly, take risks and blossom. I want Talia and Rufus to no longer fear illness, absence and fatigue. Whilst our sense of freedom will be different from what we had before, I can’t wait to feel free from treatment plans, protocols and trials.
However, with this brings apprehension and fear. Since January 2019 our future has been mapped out for us. Our oncology team is like an overarching matriarch that has monitored and watched our every single step. Whilst they will still be there lurking, we will be on our own. For the first time in
The next few weeks/months will certainly be a period of adjustment that none of us can foresee or really prepare for. We will continue to carry on as before with as much humour and self-deprecation as we can muster but if we are over-excited/withdrawn/hysterical/angry please bear with us – it’s just another phase in this strange old process.
And if you see me doing anything weird or extraordinary – give it a nod, you will know why! And if I’m quiet,
David Hawkins
Posted at 11:15h, 10 AprilBest Wishes to Felix and your Family long may his recovery go well.
I have been following Felix’s story, as the Father of my daughter who had a Ewings Sarcoma back in 1991, I can understand the pain you all have gone through.
Fortunately Catherine pulled through after extensive treatment, and is now the mother of two lovely girls aged 9 and 7.
Good Luck to you all, for the future, give Felix my best wishes.
As a fellow Cherries Supporter it give me pleasure to hear he is nearly at the end of his treatment.