I remember having a pity party for myself because my child needed spine surgery at just 14. Feeling so injured that all this anguish had been visited upon us. Hadn't we had enough misfortune yet? How much more were we expected to take?
On the evening of "the longest day" I passed another harassed mother in the passage - not sure which of us looked more stressed. We had a very brief conversation along the lines of: "What surgery did your child have?" I asked. "Major surgery on his leg, and yours?" she enquired. "My daughter had major spine surgery!" I replied and made my way back to Megan with a sympathetic smile and a wave. At the time I remember ignorantly thinking, "Just his leg - she has nothing to worry about."
It is with both shame and humility that I think of that moment now. A few days later Anna and I got a chance to talk. Her son Liam had a part of his leg "replaced" with a donor leg, as if that is not bad enough the reason for this surgery was not some stupid stunt on a skateboard or bike, no... Liam had a cancer, a malignant bone tumour in his knee, he had already had 3 months of chemotherapy in preparation for this surgery. Liam is only 13. He and Anna, his mother, have been at Starship Hospital for over 3 months and would be moving back into the oncology ward once he is well enough. There they will nuke him again to make sure that there are no cancer cells left to mount a fresh attack on his young life.
Anna is the strongest person I have ever met. She did not wallow in pity or bitterness but rather told me stories of children they had met in oncology who could not be cured. She felt, as I do, that they were luckier than some. Her son had not lost his leg to cancer and would not lose his life either. There are so many other children who are not as fortunate and I salute them and their families. This character building crap that we as humans endure is really not for the feint-hearted.
Another child was there for over 3 weeks as she had to have her half her pelvis reconstructed - also because of a tumour. They (Mum, baby sister and Dad) had to stay at the Ronald MacDonald house because they were from Tauranga (where there is no children's hospital) which is a few hours away from Auckland. The mother had to stay with their baby at night as she was still breastfeeding and so Dad was on night duty. He was always working on his laptop - trying to get his work done while his 11 year old daughter slept. I never saw her and while we shared a couple of coffees and smiles in the passages, I never learned any of their names.
Next door was another child, 12 year old Hannah who also had scoliosis (her curve was worst in her neck and progressing fast). Hannah was put into a halo that was attached to weights (to straighten her out for 3 weeks) before the surgery so that the surgeons would be able to get the best possible outcome for her. A halo is a scary thing to see on an adult, on a child it is terrifying!
Staying in Starship for that week was a very humbling experience. I met people who were going though stuff that was even bigger than Megan's major spine surgery, some were fighting for their lives.
You see the world with fresh eyes when you consider how much worse things could have been. I can honestly say that I even began to feel grateful that scoliosis was our only problem. We were lucky. Lucky that Megan's spine could be straightened, lucky that there was nothing more sinister afoot.
Now, two and a bit months later, Megan is doing so well that you wouldn't even know what she has been through. Well, not unless you see the red line that divides her back. She is my amazing daughter who has fought a battle (that most adults don't even need to consider) and has won! She will go from strength to strength and within a year she will be back to normal.
Megan being completely back to normal is my my fondest wish. Nothing will make me prouder than the day she can play netball again or scale a wall or simply do whatever else she wishes to do. Then I will know that we did the right thing.
