Seeing a light at the end of the (first) tunnel

Charlotte's white blood cell numbers are on the rise! Her ANC (which is a special ratio with concern to a special white blood cell called neutrophils) went from 0 to 4 to 215 today. So we can say she is recovering from chemo but we need it to keep climbing. In addition, she had several tests (ekg and an echocardiogram) to check her heart and rule out certain concerns regarding her high heart rate. Her heart looks healthy and with other reasons for her heart rate now resolved, the doctors could not specify exactly why her heart is beating so fast. After consulting with cardiologists, the team has determined that the chemotherapy and possibly the tumor's reaction to the chemo could be causing this. This reaction has been seen in toddlers under going chemo and usually self resolves as chemo continues and the tumor continues to die. Her respiration rate is fine and she is feeling fine and so we will begin a low dose beta blocker to help her heart slow down a safer level. High levels of catecholamines can be secreted with Neuroblastoma which can cause tachycardia and the tumor could now be releasing higher levels of these hormones intermittently, that and her own body's biological response to the hearts "new environment" could be playing a big role as well.

Long story short, we were terrified that the doctors were going to find that the chemo was causing heart damage already. Heart damage and heart failure are rare but sometimes unfortunate side effects from chemo. I have so many fears as we start down this road to helping Charlotte. But the biggest more eminent fear for me is that her body won't respond to this highly aggressive treatment that she desperately needs. That the tumor won't respond or that it does respond but the killing of the cancer becomes too much on the other vital organs in her little body. That in killing this disease we could also put her life at risk anyway. As her parents, we often feel so helpless. I am learning and reading so much, I often wonder if I surprise her doctors by my questions or statements. Brian and I are her advocates and her greatest protectors and yet we feel so small in our role. We hold her hand, help her smile, and give her comfort. I know that is important too. We are all doing important work and so I brush my "what ifs" and worries aside because if I slow down too much and stop too long, I worry I won't ever be able to get back up. So we lower our head and tunnel on through praying that we can carry Charlotte towards the light at the end of this tunnel. Brian said it right today to the doctor. He told him that to Charlotte, who doesn't know why she is here except for getting important medicine to help her feel better, it's getting back home that is her prize. Once she gets home, she can understand that all she has been through hasn't been for nothing. And then maybe, when we have to bring her back for treatments or concerns, she can remember there WAS a light at the end of the tunnel. And we will always, always bring her home.