We were so happy. Todd was doing great! But we felt so sorry for the
kids who would be spending Christmas at the hospital. |
Once I had seen Rosie Greer at the hospital playing his guitar and
entertaining a group of children. That gave us the idea to ask the Pat
Boone family to come and sing Christmas carols at the hospital. Dutch
got in touch with Mrs. Boone’s brother-in-law and Mr. Boone’s
secretary, both of whom promised to discuss the idea with the family.
We didn’t expect they would be able to do it, but we thought it worth
a try. What a perfect opportunity to witness for Christ!
On Christmas Eve Day, Pat Boone called at our house. His family had just
returned from a trip, and several of them had the flu. He had checked
with the hospital to ask if they could come and was turned down because
of the danger of infection. He was so sorry it didn’t work out, and we
were too, but we will always remember fondly their willingness to share
their Christmas with us.
Click on image to view it larger.
Todd’s blood count was very low again and he developed an infection,
so the day after Christmas found us in the hospital. I thought it would
be depressing because of the holidays, but it turned out to be one of
the fun stays.
|
 Todd
had been given a huge inflated Santa for Christmas. Of course, Santa had
come along to the hospital. We tied him by the tip of his hat to Todd’s
IV pole, and he made the rounds with us.
The second bed in Todd’s room was empty that night, so we tucked Santa
in and pulled the covers up to his chin. Todd giggled at the surprise of
the unsuspecting nurse when she found Santa. Then the doctor put on
quite a show for Todd, pretending to examine Santa. |
Todd loved to pull tricks. One day as he went to the bathroom, I was
sitting on the couch right next to the door. Suddenly a swarm of doctors
and nurses came running and tore the bathroom door open. I was stunned. |
There Todd sat on the "throne", grinning from ear to ear. He
had pulled the emergency cord to see what would happen. |
One late evening found me roaming the halls, trying to locate my son.
The halls were quiet and the playroom was closed, but Todd was nowhere
to be found. The head nurse and I looked in all the rooms---no Todd. We
discussed calling Security to help in the search. |
Then we noticed a flickering light in the dark room across from the
nurses’ station. We hadn’t looked there. It was supposed to be
empty.
But there sat Todd, on the lap of a favorite nurse, absorbed in a
monster movie on TV.
|
We were sent home on New Year’s Eve. Since Todd had had an infection,
he was to continue taking antibiotics. I always made sure that his
medicine came in liquid or tablet form, since he simply could not
swallow capsules. But in our excitement at being sent home, we didn’t
realize until late in the evening that we’d been given antibiotics in
capsule form. By then was too late to get another prescription. |
Dutch decided Todd would have to learn that night how to swallow
capsules. He had me make popcorn, and he broke off small pieces for Todd
to swallow. Todd tried over and over again until he was finally able to
swallow pieces of popcorn the size of a capsule without water. It hurt
just to watch, and I thought it was cruel, but God knew it was necessary
for what lay ahead. Todd would put this training to good use. |
 January
brought many trips to the park. My brother Tom was with us for an
extended vacation and he had what a child treasures most: patience and
time. He spent many hours with the kids. They explored Verdugo Park,
playing on slides and swings, running and pitching and batting. At
Griffith Park they rode the merry-go-round and the ponies. Descanso
Gardens harbored hungry squirrels that were so tame they came up close
to nibble food.
The tram ride through the park gave us an
exciting overview and helped us get acquainted. There were special paths
that only kids could find through the many magnolia trees. And always,
Tom had his camera going, following the kids and catching them in
natural poses. These pictures are priceless to us, aglow with the
quality of the moment they capture.
 There
was a striking resemblance between Tom and Todd, and they seemed to have
a special bond. When Tom left to go back to Canada, Todd was deeply
hurt. At the airport he jumped up on Tom, with his arms around Tom’s
neck, his legs around his waist. I had to tear them apart so Tom could
heed the last call for his flight. It was as if Todd knew it was their
last good-bye. He cried on the way home.
Click on the images to view them larger.
|
Since the number and size of Todd’s tumors were drastically reduced,
the doctors talked about removing a final spot on his lungs surgically,
if they could shrink it just a little more in his body. That meant tests
again. Many of them Todd already knew and dreaded. |
For one test dye had to be injected into a vein in his foot. Then he had
to lie still while a series of X rays were taken. Todd had had this test
before, and he knew it would hurt. Again, we tried to prepare him. We
explained the procedure and stressed that if he cooperated and lay
perfectly still and relaxed as much as possible, it wouldn’t hurt as
much as if he were tense. |
Reluctantly he followed his favorite technician into the X-ray room.
Soon I could hear his screams. The noise summoned all available
technicians and several doctors. |
I was not permitted in the room, so all I could do was sit there and
pray. They tried everything to calm him down, but with no success. After
some time, I was called in. |
Todd was in hysterics. He fought like a lion. There was no way to get
close to him to inject the dye into his bloodstream. My presence didn’t
help at all. There was nothing I could do. Soon I was close to hysterics
too. I thought they would have to have several men hold him down, but
the doctor decided against that and called the test off. They took some
X-rays without the dye. |
Todd and I were emotionally and physically exhausted. The X-ray
technician was crying. She vowed never again to become personally
involved with a patient. She couldn’t bear to see Todd so upset. |
I found myself hoping the tests would show that Todd’s cancer had
spread, because I didn’t want the doctors to operate on his lungs. I
despaired of the thought of them cutting away at him again. I has it all
figured out. God would miraculously heal Todd, and everyone would have
to bow to the evidence of God’s love and intervention in our lives. He
would not have to share the credit with the doctors. |
But Dutch vowed never to give up. As long as there was anything the
doctors could use, he wanted them to try, even if it was experimental. |
Our next visit to the clinic was supposed to be routine. We weren’t
prepared for the doctor’s words: "The drugs have lost their
effectiveness. The tumors are growing again." |
The meaning of his words sank in slowly. Deliberately I tried to think,
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow". But the thought was
painful. The praise was not spontaneous. And yet, in a way, I was
relieved. There would be no more surgery, at least for now. I was sure
this was just a temporary setback. |
January 19 saw us back at Shrine Auditorium for a miracle service. Our
hopes soared as we asked God to touch and heal Todd. We praised God for
the healings we witnessed, and the music of the powerful choir lifted
our hearts. |
It was hard for Todd to sit. He asked if he could lie down somewhere.
There was a couch in the restroom, but I was reluctant to take him
there. Healing was taking place in the auditorium. Would we miss ours if
we left? |
Then I realized the Holy Spirit would find us anywhere. "Here I am
with my child, Father. You know we are here. Help us not to be
discouraged."
But on the way home, it was hard not to be
disappointed. Still, we knew Jesus was in control and we trusted Him to
know what was best for us. |
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One day we turned the kitchen into a cookie factory. Todd and Niqua
rolled and cut dough into Christmas shapes. There was flour everywhere.
After the cookies were baked, the kids went to work with bright-colored
decorations. What fun we had.
