I can see the rainbow from where I’m standing

Hi there, it’s me again. Mum and I went to the hospital again in January for my quarterly check-up. I was put on the machine again by Doctor Cindy. She saw a small lymph node again in my tummy so Mum made an appointment to have it removed. She knows I can handle it.

On the day of the operation, Mum dropped me off and went to the office. About a quarter to ten in the morning, Doctor Cindy called Mum in the office to tell her that she had taken a closer look at the ultrasound images of my tummy, together with the doctor who was going to remove the cancer. They had decided that it was too dangerous to operate because there was a small lymph node between an artery and my spine. I am in good shape right now and anything going wrong in the operation could ruin that.

Mummy agreed that the best thing to do was not to operate anymore and let me enjoy whatever time I have left. So she picked me back up from the hospital around lunch time. That’s it, no more operations….

Doctor Cindy doesn’t really know how much time I have left so she will do an ultrasound every 2 to 3 months to see how the cancer evolves. Eventually, she said, I will probably stop eating and die of liver failure. Mum and dad don’t believe that there will ever be a day that I will stop eating, but there you go. There is a first time for everything.

The Doctor said that there was stronger chemotherapy, but it is very expensive, it will not cure me, and there will be side effects. Mum and dad feel strongly about it: not because of the money issue, but because they do not want me to suffer any more than necessary. The stronger chemo is not an option. The Doctor understands that.

Obviously, this is not the best news I’ve had. Mum and Dad, however, are at peace with it. I was diagnosed with cancer in September 2015. I was given another year. We have had a great year – and longer – together and as long as I am still well, Mum and Dad are happy.

But they are going to spoil me rotten, they said – even more! We started with a great long walk in the Beeltjens in Westerlo with my mate Clovis and his family. If I hang around till the summer, they promised me I could come over for a swim in their pool.

Mum and Dad have noticed that I am a bit less energetic than I used to be. I sleep a bit more but there are no signs of pain or discomfort. They said I can sleep as long and as often as I like. Also, I am almost 9 years old. I am getting a bit older. 9 years! 

Who would have thought that I would still make that? I wonder which cake mum is going to get me this year…

Mum and Dad talk about “the day” of course. They know it will be a difficult one but they are determined not to stretch it any longer than necessary.

My best friend Sophie is gutted obviously, but I want her to know that I’ve had – and still am having – a good life and I am grateful for her friendship. We all have to accept the inevitable and I need her to be brave about this. And even though I can see the rainbow from where I’m standing, I’m sure we’ll still have good times next time she comes to Belgium.

 Charlie