Helpless But Not Hopeless - #EzraStrong

Brain Tumor. Pediatric Brain Cancer. Surgery. Chemotherapy.

Those words are a kick in the gut for any parent. But when those parents are the parents of your grandchild it makes you feel helpless. Utterly helpless.

Over the previous weeks our sweet grandson had been battling ear infections and bouts of vomiting. Ears infections and vomiting aren’t mutually exclusive at least in my experience. Both our girls had ear infections and could projectile vomit.

However, his mommy and his daddy sensed there was something else going on. In fact, his mommy’s instincts were spot on. She and I had a conversation and she asked what if he had a brain tumor. I poo-pooed that. Boy, don’t you think I felt horrid when her instincts proved to be correct. That will bother me forever.

Two weeks ago, Ezra’s world became one of IV’s, blood pressure tests, pokes and prods, MRI’s, CT scans, brain surgery, blood work, anesthesia, brain drain, leveling the drain.

This is hard enough for most grown up people to handle but how do you explain things to a 2 year- old when the adults in his world struggle with every bit of it.

I struggle with this because I can’t fix this. I can’t scoop up my grandbaby and cuddle him and make him feel better. I can’t scoop up my daughter and make it better for her either. She hasn’t left his side expect for maybe two hours total in the last two weeks. Neither has his dad. I can’t help them. I can’t tell them everything will be okay. However we have hope that it will be. I can’t fix this for his older sister who had her world rocked as well. She is six (going on 20) but she is still seeing and understanding through six year-old eyes and heart.

Ezra may not understand everything going on but thankfully he is little enough to let the grown-ups worry. He did start to associate his room with and the nurses coming into his room with ‘owies’. He figured out pretty quickly if he was riding in his cart and walking the halls, there were no ‘owies’. He rides in his cart with mommy and daddy pushing him around and around the halls. They have literally walked marathons in the last two weeks. They are now taking him to treatment rooms for ‘owies’.

Now, here is the hope. Ezra has his mommy and daddy on his side. He has his sister, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins on his side. He has practitioners that listened and did the MRI. He has a pediatric neurosurgeon that was confident that despite the location of the tumor, he and his “A” team could remove it. He has the multitude of nurses who monitor him multiple times a day. He now has an oncology team who will work to give him the best chance possible.

Hope comes from the legions of prayer warriors who have added Ezra and his family to their prayers.

Hope comes from the awesome employers we all have that are letting us spend the time we need to help out.

Hope comes from the kids’ church, school, and work families who have rallied around them. They have school transportation and meals brought in.

Hope comes from those Christmas Elves who came and decorated the house for Ella.

Hope come from praying those healing prayers.

Hope comes from the many people following Ezra’s journey.

Hope comes from our family and friends who have comforted all of us when we have cried and who have listened to all of us ask the question that has no answer – why? Why does any sweet 2 year-old have to endure the biggest, scariest challenge of his young life. Why… why… why….

Hope. Strength. Faith. Love. #EzraStrong