Less Than Five Percent

This post is #105 in a year-long series ... Through this series of posts I plan to share our family's experiences during our 17-year-old daughter's year-long battle with brain cancer, which began in February of 2008. My desire is to process through the events of that year from the perspective that a decade of time has brought ... for myself, really. But if you'd like to follow along, you're welcome to join me.

September 26, 2008

"Hannah Sullivan is getting ready to go to children's hospital and spend the day and night.  Keep praying!"  ~ Hannah's Facebook status 9-26-08

Ten years ago today, our family headed to Arkansas Children's Hospital with a suitcase in tow, having no clear idea what was in store for us.  We knew we would be meeting with Hannah's oncologist that morning to discuss the MRI results and find out what our plan was now that her cancer had returned.  We had been told to come prepared to spend at least one night, maybe more, so a new chemotherapy regimen could be started immediately.

It was a Friday, and we made the decision to pull Bethany out of school and bring her along with us.  She wanted to come, and we felt it was important for us to face this thing head-on as a family.

Our oncologist was kind but honest when we met with him that day.  He showed us the scans and gently and thoroughly explained what was going on in Hannah's brain and spine.  He looked the four of us square in our eyes and told us that Hannah had less than a 5% chance of survival with this recurrence.  In the next breath, he explained that he was recommending a new kind of radiation and a different form of chemotherapy and together we were going to try to beat this thing.  Brad and I nodded numbly, barely able to take it all in.  There was a plan in place, which no longer required us to spend that night in the hospital, and with that, we were on our way.

We left the hospital with two hungry girls and headed to Firehouse Subs.  I couldn't imagine how the girls were going to deal with what they had just heard or what we were going to say to them.  As we sat at the table waiting for our order, Hannah asked, "So what are we going to do now?" and Brad replied, "We're going to trust God."  She nodded her head in acceptance, and dug into her sandwich when it arrived.  As the girls ate and talked about typical sister stuff, Brad and I picked at our meals in stunned silence.  There was so much we wanted to say to each other, but nothing we could say in front of the girls, so we had to settle for communicating with our eyes.

As we prayed at bedtime that night, we once again placed Hannah's life into God's hands.  We knew that our God was not a God of percentages, and that He could heal her if He chose to do so.

My email from ten years ago today ...

We are back at home this afternoon after meeting with Hannah's oncologist at Children's Hospital this morning. We drove up to the hospital this morning, expecting to spend the night, but found that the treatment plans have changed. The oncologist showed us pictures of Hannah's scans, and explained that the original tumor has seeded in the lower part of her brain and in her spine. There are at least nine tumors in her spine and two near her brain stem. After carefully reviewing her scans and the available research regarding treatment of glioblastoma tumors, the oncologist has determined that Hannah should receive radiation to the entire region before beginning the chemotherapy treatments. We will go to CARTI in Little Rock on Monday to meet with the radiologist and find out what the radiation schedule will be. The oncologist told us to expect about six weeks of daily radiation treatments. This will be similar to the radiation treatments that Hannah underwent right after surgery, so this is a familiar process. After completing the radiation therapy, new scans will be done. If all looks good, Hannah will receive four chemotherapy treatments (one every two weeks). Then they will wait two weeks and repeat the scans. The goal will be to reduce the size of the tumors and stop any new ones from forming.

The oncologist was very straightforward and honest in explaining to us the serious nature of Hannah's situation. We told him that there are many, many people praying for him, and He agreed that God's help will be needed for a cure. We are thankful that we serve a God who is the Great Physician. God has given our entire family, including Hannah, a peace that can only come from Him. Please join us in praying for healing, and in praying specifically for Dr. S, our oncologist, and Dr. P, our radiologist ... that God would give them the wisdom they need to determine the best plan of treatment for Hannah. We know that the ultimate outcome is in God's hands, and that He loves Hannah even more than we do.

God is good, all the time, even in (especially in) the middle of a storm!
Jill and Brad