Christmas Break Concerns

This post is #152 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.

December 29, 2008

We enjoyed some good visits with our extended family over Christmas break that year.  Spending time with her cousins, aunts and uncles, and grandparents was one of Hannah's favorite things to do.  When we traveled to northern Arkansas, my parents rented a room at a local hotel so all the cousins could have fun together in the swimming pool.  The younger kids had a great time ... but Hannah didn't feel well enough to swim or even get in the water.  She sat in a chair beside the pool and watched them play for awhile, then was ready to head to the room and go to bed.  This was not like her at all, and our feelings of foreboding continued to rise.

You'll detect none of that concern in my email from a decade ago ...

Just a quick update today....we are at Children's Hospital right now waiting for a platelet infusion. We will return on Wednesday for chemo and platelets and then again on Friday for more platelets. Hannah has felt pretty good for the last few days, and we were able to travel to Mountain Home over the weekend to celebrate Christmas with Jill's family. Jill's brother's family will be coming tomorrow to spend a few days with us. We are looking forward to spending some time with them, as they are missionaries overseas and we've only seen them once over the last 3 1/2 years.

Thank you so much for your continued prayers for our family. We've been so blessed by all of the phone calls, cards, letters, gifts, meals, and emails .... we can never express our gratitude enough. God is so good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

A Word from Hannah's Dad ...

This post is #151 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.

December 26, 2008

On the day after Christmas, we headed back to Children's Hospital for an uneventful platelet infusion.  That evening, at his request, I handed the computer to Brad and he wrote our email for that day ...

I wanted to share some thoughts from me during this Christmas season. Jill has been so faithful to share our journey over the last several months...and I wanted to take some time and share what God has placed on my heart today. God's truths have been so real to us, and as I think about the gift He gave us in His Son, Who He is has become so real to us. As we sing the old song, "Go Tell it on the Mountain", I too want to tell how meaningful God's gift has been to us. He truly is the Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, and the Prince of Peace. The peace that we have felt, as the Scripture says, passes all understanding. We are so thankful for it. 

God has given us this journey so that we can tell it on the mountain, and we desire as a family to be faithful to that calling. I want to say again how blessed we are to have been raised in Christian families, and have been pointed to the Christ child all our lives. Because of the Christian heritage that was passed to Jill and I, my daughters also know the Christ child and have felt His presence in their lives and know Him as their personal Savior. Their faith in Him has been an example to us. The peace that God has given Hannah during her storm can only come from God. I am so grateful for Jill. She is so special... God gave me the best when He gave me her. She is a wonderful wife, mom and most of all a godly person. I am so blessed. Thank you, Father.

As we look at the new year ahead, we know we have hope in Christ. When life's circumstances don't seem good, we have hope. God is with us. We don't know what 2009 holds for any of us...the economy, a new president, health issues, etc. But we do know that God is in control, and He is good all the time.

Wishing you a merry CHRISTmas and a happy new year!

Brad

Grace Like A Fitted Sheet - Christmas 2008

This post is #150 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.

December 25, 2008

Cancer doesn't take a break at Christmas time.  Christmas fell on a Thursday that year, and Hannah needed platelet infusions on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  The Hematology/Oncology Clinic at Children's was closed on Wednesday for Christmas Eve, so she actually had to be admitted to the general part of the hospital for a few hours to get her platelets.  When we checked into her room, there was a beautiful plush stuffed walrus on her bed along with a booklet of word games ... Christmas gifts from some nice donor to brighten up the day of a child who had to be admitted to the hospital on Christmas Eve. It took longer than usual to get her platelets since we had to go through the whole admissions process, and we were grateful to be heading home late that afternoon and looking forward to a quiet Christmas Day at home.

I woke up early the next morning and wrote out some of my thoughts in an email.  By this time, there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of people who were reading our emails and praying for our family, and I felt a real kinship with them.  Though I generally tried to be pretty transparent in my emails, I didn't share all my thoughts on that Christmas morning.

Because as I sat there in the pre-dawn hours, I knew.  I knew that this would be our last Christmas together as a family of four.  The cancer was taking Hannah from us bit by bit and there was nothing we could do about it.

Please don't misunderstand.  This was not a crisis of faith.  I knew, and I believed, that God could heal Hannah here on earth if that was His plan.  But it was becoming more and more apparent to me that His plan was for us to walk beside Hannah, holding her hand, as she made her way toward Heaven.  And I recognized that that was actually going to require more faith than simply believing for earthly healing.

My email from a decade ago ...

It is early on Christmas morning, and I have a few things on my heart that I want to share with all of you who have been so faithful to pray for our family over the last several months. No one else is up yet .... the girls no longer wake us up before dawn begging to open their presents...as teenagers, they would much rather sleep in, and open presents whenever they happen to wake up. We no longer have to stay up late on Christmas Eve putting toys together ... the "toys" they want now are high-tech gadgets that they have to open up and figure out how to use themselves ... we're of no help to them in that department. 

We have always lived a few hours away from both sets of the girls' grandparents, so we have rarely spent Christmas Day at home over the years ... we're usually at one or the other grandparent's house, or traveling in between on Christmas Day. Circumstances did not allow us to travel this week (platelet infusions yesterday and tomorrow in Little Rock), so we will be spending all day at home, just the four of us. And while we are praying for Hannah's healing and trusting God that our family of four will spend many more Christmases together; we are fully aware that, in His sovereignty, this could be our last. And that is not only true for our family in our present circumstances, it is true for every family who is reading this email. We do not know what the future holds for any of us ... so please, this year more than ever, enjoy the time with your family, treasure the memories you make, and be sure that you know the One whose birth we celebrate on this day.

Intense fatigue seems to be Hannah's biggest battle right now...we are hoping to travel to Mountain Home and spend a couple of days with my family (my brother, sister-in-law, and niece Julia, who are missionaries in Indonesia, have just come home for a six-month furlough) after her platelet infusion on Friday. We are also hoping to spend some time with Brad's family (his sister and brother-in-law just welcomed their first baby, Faith McKinley Sartor, on Tuesday) next week. Please pray that Hannah will have the stamina to enjoy these visits ... she loves spending time with her extended family. She is due for another chemotherapy treatment next Wednesday (New Years' Eve), and we assume that is the source of the fatigue she is experiencing.

How can we ever thank all of you for all of the prayers, cards, emails, calls, visits, gifts, meals, etc.? Your love and support has carried all of us through this journey, and we will be forever grateful. 

A dear friend once told me that God's grace is like a fitted sheet ... .He gives you just enough to fit your particular mattress. This friend knows the truth of that statement, too, as she and her husband lost their baby girl to meningitis several years ago. God's grace is sufficient ... and He is truly good, all the time.

Wishing you all a blessed Christmas,

Jill

A few pictures from Christmas 2008 ...

A Very Unique Christmas Gift

This post is #149 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.

December 19, 2008

As Christmas 2008 approached, we found ourselves in a very surreal position ... Profoundly grateful for the fact that Hannah was still with us, yet fully aware that without a miraculous intervention from God (and we absolutely believed that was possible), this would be our last Christmas with her.  We could already sense her gradually slipping away from us bit by bit.  That resulted in a very unique Christmas gift ... the awareness and appreciation of every moment we had together.  Most families never get that.  I am still thankful for that gift today.

My email from ten years ago today ...

We are sitting in the infusion room at Children's Hospital waiting for Hannah's platelets to be sent up. It always takes awhile to get the bloodwork done, get the results, get the platelets ordered, get them sent up from the blood bank, and finally to infuse them. Hannah hasn't had any apparent side effects from her chemo treatment on Wednesday, and we are thankful for that. She continues to have problems with occasional nausea and mild headaches, but now that we know these problems are not being caused by anything neurological, they are a little easier to deal with. Overall, she feels pretty good most of the time, and for that we are so thankful.

We feel that we have been given a very unique gift during this Christmas season, and that gift is a new appreciation of all of God's many blessings. We've always enjoyed the time we spend with our immediate and extended family during the holidays, but I think many times we have taken each other for granted. This year, more than any other, I believe we will treasure our time together. God's gift of His Son is also more meaningful than ever to us this year, as we ponder the sacrifice He made for our salvation.

We probably will not update again until after Christmas, because we are anticipating a relatively uneventful week ahead medically speaking.  We consider all of you one of God's greatest blessings to our family, and we are so appreciative of the time you spend in prayer for us. God has given us such peace, and He truly is good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

Finally ...

This post is #148 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.

December 17, 2008

It was chemo day at last!  Almost two months after this new chemo was recommended to start, it was finally underway.  We weren't given the go-ahead because Hannah's platelet issues were resolved; no, we were starting in spite of the fact that they were not resolved.  Her doctor just didn't feel we could wait any longer, even though Hannah was at high risk of uncontrolled bleeding.  In an attempt to minimize this possibility as much as possible, she would undergo a platelet transfusion at Children's Hospital every other day.  We fully understood the risk, but at this point we really had no other choice.  As Christmas approached, we were simply grateful to be moving forward with a plan for treatment and the possibility of a cure.

My email from ten years ago today ...

Well, Hannah has finally had her first official dose of chemotherapy. The infusion was uneventful, and she is feeling fine. We are waiting now for a platelet infusion, and then we will be going home. Our oncologist discussed the possible side effects of Avastin with us, one of which is bleeding. He is somewhat concerned about this potential side effect, due to the fact that her platelet counts have been so low (platelets are the clotting mechanism in blood). So...we will be coming in every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for platelet infusions until her counts rise above 100,000 and stay there for awhile. She will have a chemo infusion once every two weeks for a couple of months, and at that time she will have another scan to determine its effectiveness.

We are so thankful to finally be moving ahead with Hannah's treatment plan. She has had less nausea over the past several days, so she is feeling pretty good right now. We are looking forward to Christmas next week, and the opportunity to spend time with family. 

God truly is good, all the time!
Brad and Jill

Unexpected MRI

This post is #147 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.

December 15, 2008

For several days, the weatherman had been predicting a nasty ice storm on Monday.  In Arkansas, that means everyone runs to the store to stock up on bread and milk in case they're stuck at home for a few days.  We all charge up our electronics and make sure we have dry firewood, as electric power will most likely be lost.  Kids rejoice at the prospect of school cancellations and teachers look forward to a few days off in their pajama pants.

But today was the day Hannah would finally be starting her long-postponed chemotherapy treatments, and a little ice was not going to keep us away!  We were anxious to find out when her new MRI would be scheduled so we could get some answers to the increased nausea and headaches she was experiencing.  Our appointment at Children's Hospital was at 9:45 that morning, and we were hopeful for an uneventful chemo infusion so we could be back home in front of the fireplace before the bad weather really set in. 

But when we arrived, things took an unexpected turn.  I sent out a quick email from the waiting room that morning.

We are sitting in the waiting room at Arkansas Children's Hospital waiting for our appointment, and our specialty nurse just came out and told us that there was an MRI cancellation today ... so, Hannah will be getting her MRI at 1:00 today. I'm not sure what this does to our plan to start chemo today ... we will keep you all posted as the day unfolds. Please join us in praying for a good scan ... 
God is good, all the time!
Jill and Brad

Gasp!  As glad as I was to be getting this MRI done, the suddenness of it knocked the breath out of me for a bit.  We usually had some time to psych ourselves up for these things ... and now we were about to have one in just a few hours!   We were fully aware that this MRI could indicate a potential death sentence for Hannah ... or an undetermined number of weeks, months, or maybe years of extended life.

My email from 5:00 that evening details the results of the MRI.  We were greatly relieved by the overall good report, even though we still didn't really have an answer for the increased symptoms she was experiencing.  We were also pleased that Hannah's chemo treatments would finally be starting that week regardless of her platelet status.  We were so ready to move forward on that.

What we didn't know at the time (and I'm glad we didn't) was the significance of the "very faint stuff" in the area of the original tumor ...

After a very long day, we were finally able to meet with our oncologist a few minutes ago and he showed us today's brain scan compared to the one done in September. He was really pleased with how it looked. The two large tumors in the brainstem area are much smaller and less bright than they were. There was some very faint stuff that showed up in the area of the original tumor, in the area of her brain that could not be re-radiated. He says the chemo should take care of that. There is no sign of brain swelling, so that is really good, too. We do not have the spine scan results yet, and I'm guessing we won't see those until Wednesday, when we will be returning. 

They are about to start giving her platelets now (they were at 30,000) and are not going to do the Avastin (chemo) until Wednesday. He says that while we are doing the Avastin, she will probably need to have platelet transfusions three times a week to prevent any possible bleeding, which is a potential side effect of Avastin. So ... all in all, good MRI results so far and we will be starting chemo on Wednesday. Thank you so much for your prayers for us today ... please pray that the Avastin will cause these tumors to shrivel up and disappear! It looks as though we will be traveling home after dark tonight in the midst of a sleet and ice storm, so please pray for traveling safety after this long day as well.

We are very thankful for a good report today, and so relieved to have another MRI behind us. Thank you so much for walking this journey with us and holding us up in your prayers. God is good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

Rising Concerns

This post is #146 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.

After our appointment on Monday, we expected that Hannah would continue with school since she was still not able to start chemo.  Instead, the ongoing side effects from the radiation began to unexpectedly intensify.  The morning nausea and near-constant headaches were increasing, preventing her from attending school.  This exacerbation caused us to question whether her issues were indeed still due to side effects of the radiation treatments ... or something else.  We contacted her oncologist at Children's and let him know what was going on, and he immediately put some steps into motion.

He recommended that we visit her local ophthalmologist so he could check her for any signs of increasing intracranial pressure.  This was the same doctor who recommended the MRI back in February, and who broke the news to us about the presence of the tumor.  He got us in immediately, examined her thoroughly, and gave us the welcome news that there didn't seem to be any signs of building pressure in her brain.

Our oncologist also recommended a new MRI ... always a nerve-wracking prospect ... but certainly warranted, considering her increasing issues.  We were grateful that he was on top of things, and hopeful that the MRI would be scheduled soon. 

My email from a decade ago outlines these concerns, and includes a word of thanks to all those who donate blood and platelets.  That gratitude is just as strong today.  If not for the blood and platelet donations of a multitude of strangers, we would not have had Hannah with us as long as we did!

Hannah's had a little bit of a rough week this week. She's been struggling with morning nausea every day, and has also been having some mild headaches. We feel that the nausea may still be due to some of the side effects of the radiation treatments, although we are getting some things checked out. We went to see her ophthalmologist yesterday, on her oncologist's recommendation, so he could check her for any signs of increased intracranial pressure. He did not find any indication of increased pressure, so that was good news. Our oncologist has also recommended a new MRI scan, and we are waiting to hear from them as to when it will be scheduled. We will be going to Children's Hospital tomorrow for bloodwork and a probable platelet infusion. Maybe we will find out more at that time. We are thankful that once she gets through the morning, she usually feels better in the afternoon and evening.

I do want to say a word of thanks to all those of you out there who donate blood and platelets. We added it up the other day, and we figure that Hannah has had about twelve units of blood and probably about twenty units of platelets. Several people have asked us about donating blood or platelets specifically for Hannah. Children's Hospital actually discourages people from donating to specific patients, but rather just to donate in general because there are so many people who need blood. So to all of you who give of your time to donate blood or platelets, thank you! And please continue, not just for Hannah, but for all the cancer patients who so desperately need it!

God is good, all the time!

This verse sums it all up..."We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed but not in despair; persecuted but not abandoned; struck down but not destroyed. We always carry in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body." II Corinthians 4:7-10

Jill and Brad

More Delays

This post is #145 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.

December 9, 2008

As much as we were enjoying the relative normalcy of both girls being back in school leading up to Christmas break, we were really beginning to feel the urgency of starting chemotherapy before too much time elapsed following radiation.  The initial plan had been to start her new chemo treatments at the beginning of November, and here we were approaching the middle of December and she had yet to have her first infusion.

It sounds a little strange to say we had high hopes of starting her treatments when we went to our appointment at Children's that Monday ... I mean, who wants their child to take chemotherapy?   But at the time, we believed Hannah's best chance of beating this cancer was through these infusions.  And surely, after all these delays, this would be the week she would finally be able to start.

You can detect a little of my disappointment in my email from ten years ago today ...

No chemotherapy again today .... instead we're getting a unit of platelets and two units of blood again. Her counts were higher than they've been (platelets were at 34,000 today ... they need to be at least 50,000 to start chemo) and the doctor said that they will probably give her more platelets later this week and will start at least one of the chemo drugs next Monday regardless. 

He explained that the radiation is still working in her body, which is holding down her blood production but should also be preventing any tumor growth. She has been having some mild headaches pretty much on a daily basis, and has had lots of morning nausea over the last few weeks, and he is going to start her back on a low dose of steroids to try to help with this. She is planning on going back to school again tomorrow and should be able to go most of the week, except for when we have to return to Children's for more platelets.

Thank you again for your prayers ... God continues to be with us every step of this journey. He truly is good, all the time!

Jill and Brad

2 Corinthians 4:17 - For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory...

Empty Me

This post is #144 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.

Early December 2008

Hannah had gotten her driver's license about four months before she was diagnosed with cancer.  She would probably agree with me when I say that she was not the world's greatest driver.  In fact, I'm not sure her driver's ed teacher really wanted to give her a passing grade, but he did!  Knowing what we know now, it could be that her rather poor driving skills were an early manifestation of the tumor growing in her brain.  Thankfully, she never had an accident or even a fender bender, but she did make us nervous sometimes!

Her brain cancer diagnosis did not legally preclude her from driving, but we all agreed it was best that she not drive during her treatments.  So I ended up driving her around a lot during that year, including those days she returned to school in early December of 2008.

One day as I drove her home from school, one of her favorite songs came on K-LOVE radio -- "Empty Me" by American Idol contestant Chris Sligh.  And Hannah, who only rarely shared the deepest parts of her heart with us over the course of her cancer journey, told me that the loss of her hair had helped her empty herself of her pride before God and she was thankful for that.

What a kid.  I'm still learning from her. 

You can hear the song and see the lyrics by clicking the link below. (If you receive these updates via email, you may have to click through to the blog to hear it.)

A Hero In My Eyes

This post is #143 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.

December 4, 2008

In a previous post, I described the moment Hannah first became my hero.  They day she returned to school for the first time since her cancer recurrence in September was the second.

I remember dropping her off that first day she went back and thinking how brave she was to walk into that school building after being out for so long ... wearing a wig, her face swollen from steroids, not knowing how people would react to her.  I wanted to walk in with her, holding her hand, like I did the first day of kindergarten. But what high school junior wants her mom to walk into school with her? And besides, I knew that her dad, the principal, was in there waiting for her. I remember driving away with a heavy heart, wondering if attendance at school really mattered, as her prognosis did not give much hope for graduation.

But she was determined to go, and for the few days she attended, she did well. The first day she went back, her social studies class was reviewing for a test.  She took the test the next day, and made a 100 percent, even though she had not been there for a single day of classroom instruction.  I've looked through some of the notes she took and work she did during those days, and it is heartbreaking to see her once beautiful handwriting appear so shaky and unsteady.  She had always doodled in class, usually making elaborate designs and symmetrical patterns.  She did some doodling during those days in class too, but it is messy and uneven.

I wonder ... What was she really experiencing at that time?  How does it feel to know that you have tumors growing inside your brain and spinal cord?  She really never talked much about what she was feeling, physically or emotionally.  She was always very private ... never one to share too much.  As time passed and her motor skills deteriorated, gradually stealing her ability to walk, she told me one day, "I don't like being this way."  That was it ... that was her one complaint during that entire year of cancer.

How did she do it? No one could do what she did in human strength alone. The only answer is her faith in God. She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this was all part of His plan for her, and she accepted it without question.  And that makes her a hero in my eyes.

My email from ten years ago today ...

Just a quick update to let everyone know that Hannah has been going to school this week...she went for three hours Tuesday and almost a full day yesterday. She's up and getting ready this morning to go back today. She has done really well, and it seems not to have tired her out too much. I think we've all enjoyed being involved in some normal activities this week! 

We will go to Hot Springs this afternoon for bloodwork, and will go to Little Rock for a platelet infusion tomorrow if one is needed. We hope to be on track to start chemo on Monday. Thank you so much for your continued prayers...I will update again on Monday! 

God is good, all the time!
Jill and Brad

Ready for Battle

This post is #142 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.

December 1, 2008

Even as we enjoyed our family time over the Thanksgiving holiday, we found ourselves looking ahead to Monday when Hannah would finally get to start her new chemotherapy treatments.   The reprieve from treatments had been wonderful, and we were so glad Hannah was finally feeling more like herself, but we were really beginning to feel the urgency to get back to fighting this cancer.  Every day that passed without treatment felt like an opportunity for the cancer to gain a deeper foothold in her brain and spine.

So we headed to Arkansas Children's Hospital on Monday morning with an overnight bag in case we needed to stay ... our shoulders back, ready to return to battle.

The news we received when we got her bloodwork results back was disappointing to us ... but not to Hannah.  If she didn't have to get chemo, and she was no longer in isolation, she could go to school!  We couldn't help but be happy for her, even as our disquiet with all the delays grew.

My email from ten years ago today ...

Well ... no chemotherapy today. Hannah's red blood counts and platelets are still very low, so she's going to get two more units of blood and a unit of platelets instead. Her platelets have to be between 50,000-75,000 before they will start chemo, and they are at 7,000 today. Her red counts are not as low as they were last week, but she could tell by the way she was feeling that they were starting to get low again. We will have bloodwork done again on Wednesday or Thursday this week to see where we stand. 

The good news is that her ANC (immunity level) is now up to 1,296....and she is hoping to go to school tomorrow! This is a huge step, because she hasn't been to school since September! Getting blood today should really boost her energy level, and she is really looking forward to starting back.

Please be in prayer that her blood cell and platelet production will begin to kick in, and that she will have the stamina to get back into the swing of school. Thank you for your continued prayers for our family....God is good, all the time!

Jill and Brad