Say Hi to Jesus For Me, childhood cancer, tests, diagnosis

"Say Hi to Jesus For Me": Chapter 1
We were busy trying to get Todd into Little League, even though he was not old enough to join. Dutch had always said that when Todd was older he would play more ball with him and even coach a team. Then, mostly while we were not watching, Todd kept busy practicing until one day we discovered he could pitch quite well. Under our eyes had blossomed an All-American, blond, blue-eyed, baseball-loving boy.
Todd had endless energy, swam like a fish, and was proud of being the fastest runner. When he got a pair of tennis shoes, he made sure they were the "fast-running" kind. He was also proud of being a good student. He was a crazy kid who, when he had a loose baby tooth, talked a friend into punching him in the mouth to knock it out. He ate and ate, as much as his father almost and never seemed to gain any weight, quite contrary to the rest of us.
Then on day the school nurse called and said Todd had vomited and could I pick him up? I didn't have a car, but school was only a few blocks from our house, so I walked down to get him. He assured me that he felt better and that he was well enough to walk home. We stopped in his classroom so I could ask his teacher what had happened. She told me that he had seemed to have violent stomach cramps and that he'd vomited just as they stepped out the door on the way to the nurse's office.
We walked home together in a slow, leisurely manner, joking and laughing along the way. Close to home I noticed that his pants were wet again. He had been having a problem with wetting, and nothing we did or said seemed to make any difference.
I decided to put him to bed, hoping rest would cure his flu. But then I discovered that his pants were soaked with blood. Alarmed, I called the doctor. The nurse suggested bringing him in right away. But Dutch had the car, and I wasn't sure where he was. By co- (God)-incidence, I located him at a store he'd stopped by, and he rushed home to transport us to the doctor.
I sat in the waiting room with our daughter, Niqua, while Dutch accompanied Todd into the examining room. Dutch had not seen the blood, so neither he nor the doctor were aware of the amount of blood Todd had lost. The doctor suspected that Todd had an infection and that he may have coughed and ruptured a blood vessel.
When I heard this, I went back in to tell the doctor just how much blood Todd had lost. She asked that we collect urine samples and bring Todd back the next day.
The samples we took seemed to be nothing but blood. When the doctor saw them the next morning, she ordered Todd into the hospital immediately. Todd cried. He was frightened, and so was I. I didn't quite know how to reassure him. For a few moments, we just held each other, trying to find comfort. Then we remembered: No matter where we are or what happens, Jesus is always with us.
The diagnosis was nephritis. But the doctor said, "There's a small chance that it's a tumor." That went in one ear and out the other. Who ever heard of a tumor in a child! Besides, things like that always happen to other people, never to us.
Lately, the Lord's Prayer kept returning to my attention. First, during a memorial service, it sent shivers down my spine. After that, it seemed that every time I got into my car and turned on the radio, there it was. I had begun to suspect that God was trying to tell me something. I even mentioned my suspicion to my Bible study group. But I was a brand new Christian, just rescued from tranquilizers by the saving blood of Jesus, and I did not yet know much about God's guidance.
Now I had my answer. God had been trying to tell me something, and this was it. Todd had nephritis. He was in the hospital for the first time. I marveled at how God had prepared me so we would know he was with us.
Todd settled into the hospital routine fast. He made friends with the nurses even faster. He was soon helping them at the desk. I stayed with him during the day. He spent the time playing, and beating me at spelling games. Dutch stayed with him the first night.
The second day Todd seemed much better. We played ball in the hall and he had a great time. The doctor even gave us hope that he might come home by the weekend.
The second night we decided to leave him alone. When we left, he was busy playing. But we'd just arrived home when he called. "Please, Mom, come. I can't sleep alone."
It seemed so cruel to leave him there pleading, but I was sure he would be sound asleep by the time I could drive back to the hospital. We talked on the phone for half an hour. I prayed with him, then asked him to settle down in bed and turn the TV off, hoping to talk to him until he went to sleep. I waited on the other end while a nurse helped him to the bathroom and then back to bed. He finally said he was tired enough to sleep.
He seemed fine the next day, but he spent more time in bed. He lay there looking out the window. It was a brilliantly clear day and the wind was playing with big white balls of clouds. Todd was deep in thought. Finally he said: "Mom, are the dead people up there in those clouds? Can they see us?"
He'd been thinking a lot about heaven. Just a short time before, we'd had to have his first very own puppy dog put to sleep. When I told Todd that King had gone to heaven, he cried. But soon his little mind tried to form a picture of what it was like for King.
"Mom, do they have balls in heaven? Do you think God will play ball with him now?" "Mom, if the ball falls down from heaven, is God going to come down and pick it up for him?"
We reflected on God and talked awhile. He was in pain and finally had to have a shot. I noticed that he seemed to be bleeding more, and I asked the nurse to bring a pad for the bed. She was alarmed at the blood and called the doctor.
The doctor ordered x-rays immediately. While they were being taken, she said she was glad Dutch had gone home so she could talk to me alone. She knew how upset Dutch became at the slightest hint of one of us being ill.
She said she had to tell me that we now must seriously consider the possibility of a tumor. She meant it when she said she was sorry. She advised transferring Todd to Children's Hospital, where he would be treated by a urologist. I agreed.
I called Dutch's cousin Betty and asked her to try to find Dutch. I also called Pastor Roufs. He came right away to pray with me and support me, and he allowed me to cry. Betty came, too, and brought some lunch.
By the time Dutch arrived, Todd was feeling quite poorly and was bleeding more and more. The doctor thought an ambulance might be traumatic for Todd, so we bundled him up carefully and headed for the Children's Hospital in our car, a very frightened threesome. Betty and her husband Harvey saw us off. They even had a present for Todd. A doctor was waiting for us. He examined Todd at length. Todd was bleeding constantly now, and he was in pain. It seemed to take forever to get him admitted.
In the waiting room I leafed through an old copy of Reader's Digest. There it was again! An article on the Lord's Prayer. I held it up for Dutch to see. "Look! Now what?" Inwardly I recoiled from the blow I knew would come.