Matthew Update

2011-03-16T17:41:00.001-04:00

Dear Friends and Family,

We invite you to join us in our annual Team Superman fundraiser for brain tumor research. Starting this year, we are supporting a new organization and a new event: the National Brain Tumor Society's (NBTS) Race for Hope 5K Walk/Run on Sunday morning, May 1.

We have shifted our support to NBTS because they have the resources to fund major, cutting-edge initiatives in both adult and pediatric brain tumor research, and we want our fundraising -- and your contributions -- to have the biggest bang for the buck. Last year, the Race for Hope attracted more than 10,000 participants and raised $2.3 million for brain tumor research.

Please click on the right-hand column to join us as a participant or donor. Our family has participated in the Race for Hope four years in a row. It's an exciting, well-organized event that goes down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol, past some beautiful Washington landmarks. If you cannot make it to the event, we welcome a gift in any amount. Registration and donations are 100% tax-deductible.

To celebrate all our Team Superman friends and say thank you for your support, we plan to host a post-race celebration on Sunday evening after the event. Stay tuned for details!

Hope you will join us this year!
Jaime and Jon

What's New

2010-07-08T19:07:00.019-04:00

It has been a great relief, over the past year, to feel like things are normal, boring even. From now on, in our lives, boring will ALWAYS be a welcome condition. And part of boring, for me anyway, is the luxury of not having any news to report. But, with our Team Superman/Childhood Brain Tumor Foundation fundraiser coming up in a few months, it feels like the opportune time for an update.

Matthew is coming off a successful year at Landmark College. Some students enter Landmark with the goal of pursuing a two year associates' degree, but Matthew's intent was to have a gap year, a cushion betwen high school and college. This turned out to be a productive move. He gained confidence living on his own, excelled academically, and became involved in campus life, (Student Government, jazz band, choir, etc.) Over winter break, Matthew filed applications with a short list of colleges and, after serious consideration made the decision to enroll at Clark University in Worcester, Massachusetts, this fall. He plans to study either psychology or education.

Newly turned nineteen, Matthew has his first paying job this summer, working as a day camp counselor at the DC Jewish Community Center. He is also taking voice lessons, accumulating road hours toward his driver's license, and volunteering his time with the American Cancer Society, helping to launch a program which pairs high school students with teens who have just completed cancer treatment.

Like many of our friends whose children just went off to college, this was the year we adapted to being one family member down at home. Daniel did not always welcome the undivided scrutiny! He allocated his time among school, soccer, fencing, and "height development," which is another way of saying that he now looks down (literally and sometimes figuratively) on every member of the family except his dad, on whom he is gaining daily. Danny starts high school in the fall but at the moment is mainly concentrating on his upcoming trip to Nicaragua, where he will spend two weeks in the home of family friends hopefully practicing his Spanish.

The big news in our family is that Ali was married a couple of weeks ago to Mr. Chafic Maalouf, whom she has known for six years. The garden wedding was held in Assonet, Massachusetts, near the couple's home in Norwood, and attended mainly by family. Ali did a great job of planning the wedding down to the last detail. The boys were delighted to be included in the wedding party, and Jon beamed as proud father of the bride.

This summer has been graced not only by a wedding but also by the arrival of a new family member: little Liana Jade Doppmann, born to Jon's sister Ilene and her husband Greg. I flew to Tucson for a week, just after the birth, to help with the baby, cooking and chores. It felt like a sacred gift to be in the presence of this precious, long-awaited baby and her delighted parents.

Jon continues to work hard in the down economy, while I am spending more time on childhood cancer concerns. This year I am co-chairing the Childhood Brain Tumor Foundation fall 5K, which has been renamed the CBTF Superheroes 5K Walk/Run/Kids' Run. The new name is partly a nod to the positive impact of Team Superman over the past few years, but is mainly a confirmation of what some of us know firsthand: fighting a brain tumor requires superhuman courage and resolve, and everyone in the fight is a hero.

We hope to see many of you at this year's event on Sunday, October 3. The 5K is moving to a convenient, new location: Meadowbrook Park/Candy Cane City, in Chevy Chase, MD. If you are on my mailing list, you should have already received an email with all the details, but just in case, here's the link to register online: http://tinyurl.com/superherowalkrun . Sign up as a team member and choose "Superman" from the team drop-down menu.

Email or call if you have any questions!

Enjoy the rest of the summer!

Take care,

Jaime

Heads Up, Team Superman!

2010-05-20T18:27:00.000-04:00

Please mark your calendars...

...to join Team Superman in the fourth annual
Childhood Brain Tumor Foundation Superheroes 5K Walk/Run*

Sunday, October 3
Meadowbrook Park/Candy Cane City
Chevy Chase, Maryland*

*This year, the race has a new name and a new location,
but it's still for the same important cause:
to fund children's brain tumor research.

Look for our e-mails about online registration and fundraising.
Please forward this to anyone who might be interested.
Thank you for supporting our cause!

Join us on Sept. 13 - Walk-Ins Welcome!

2009-09-04T17:49:00.003-04:00

Be a part of Team Superman on Sunday, Sept. 13 at the Childhood Brain Tumor Foundation "Stride for Life" 5K Walk/Run and Kids Fun Run!The 5K starts at 9 a.m. Check-in starts at 7:30.

The address is: 1400 Lake Fairfax Drive, Reston, about seven miles west of Tyson’s Corner.Directions:From 270 - Take Beltway to VA-267 W - Dulles Toll Rd. After about 1.7 miles merge onto LEESBURG PIKE / VA-7 W via EXIT 16 toward LEESBURG. Travel on Rt. 7 for about five miles and turn left on Barron Cameron Road. At the second light turn left onto Lake Fairfax Drive. This road will lead you into the park. Look for signs leading to event site.

Park website: http://www.fairfaxcounty.gov/parks/lakefairfax/lkffxdirections.htm

Matthew Grossman, College Freshman

2009-09-04T14:51:00.011-04:00

Last week, our family had an emotionally intense experience of the positive variety for once.

Like so many of our friends, we packed up the car with all manner of teen necessities, and drove many hours from home to deliver a child to college. But Matthew's route to college was, of course, anything but ordinary - and we were acutely aware of that.

For two days before school started, we had medical appointments in New Hampshire and Vermont, setting up a medical safety net, so that Matthew will hopefully have support nearby, in case he needs it. Around those visits, we explored Hanover and Brattleboro, and visited various local landmarks like the Cabot cheese creamery and the King Arthur Flour Factory Store. We had a lot of fun.

Our last night together in the hotel, Matthew sat on the bed and played his guitar. I asked him to play "Wonder Wall," by Oasis, a song he had sung many times in the hospital. The lyrics of that song always get to me:

"And all the roads we have to walk are winding

And all the lights that lead us there are blinding

There are many things that I

would like to say to you but I don't know how

Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all, you're my wonderwall"

Listening to him, I recalled all the times he'd sung that for the doctors, and I thought of all the doctors who'd treated Matthew over the years, who had been his "wonderwall." The next day, on the way to Landmark College, we stopped and bought a stack of postcards (Vermont apparently lends itself to scenic postcards), and Matthew signed them, and I tucked them into my purse for later.

We went through registration and move-in, transforming Matthew's tiny shoebox of a room into a homey space. The whole family chipped in, with Matthew directing. By the end, the room looked great.

From this...

To this...

By 12:30, we were done, with time to spare before lunch. So, Matthew, Jon & Danny fanned out across the lawn in front of Matthew's dorm, and started winging the Frisbee to each other, pulling other kids into the game. I sat and watched Matthew, blending in with the other college freshmen, and felt I was witnessing a miracle.

That evening, after we'd attended parent orientation sessions, and eaten two meals with Matthew in the dining hall, and said a mini goodbye, knowing we'd see him again the next day, we returned to the hotel. I pulled out the stack of postcards, addressed them to the various members of our medical team, and wrote the same note on each one: "Today, Matthew started at Landmark College in Putney, Vermont. Thank you for helping us reach this day."

It's That Time Again!

2009-08-09T22:35:00.010-04:00

It's time for Team Superman's annual appearance in the "Stride for Life" 5k Walk/Run & Kids' Fun Run to benefit The Childhood Brain Tumor Foundation

Sunday, Sept. 13, 9 AM
1400 Lake Fairfax Drive
Lake Fairfax Park, Reston, Virginia
(close to Tyson's Corner, same location as before)

Please join our family and be a part of Team Superman this year!

For the third year in a row, we will meet at a beautiful park, on a (hopefully) sunny September Sunday, to celebrate life, support a worthwhile cause, stand with families like ours, whose lives have been changed by a childhood brain tumor, and honor those who tragically lost their struggle.

Brain tumors remain the deadliest form of childhood cancer, with 3,400 new cases diagnosed each year. More research is desperately needed to develop safer, more targeted and more effective treatments.

Since 2007, Team Superman has raised sufficient funds to support a two-year study that examines new approaches to treating recurrent mixed germ cell tumors of the brain, the very rare and difficult-to-treat diagnosis that Matthew faced. We plan to bring you a research update in the coming months.

In the meantime, please mark the morning of September 13 on your calendar and plan to join us. Whether you walk or run, it's a fun chance to exercise, see people you know, and come out for a great cause.

You may have already received a brochure/registration form in the mail. If not, click on the link at the top right corner of this site to download a copy in .pdf format. Advance registration ends September 1.

We look forward to seeing you!

Jaime, Jon, Matthew & Daniel

2008-08-11T09:40:00.004-04:00

Team Superman Flies (Walks? Runs?) Again!

Last year, as you know, our goal was to fight back against the rare, malignant form of brain tumor that attacked our son. And, with your help, that’s what we did!

We collected over 400 donations and raised more than $50,000 for germ cell tumor research. In the spring, the Childhood Brain Tumor Foundation (CBTF) issued a special call for germ cell tumor grants and is now providing major funding for a two year clinical study.

Thank you for supporting our cause and for helping us achieve our goal.

This year, we are asking only for your participation…!

This year, our goal is simply to gather together, celebrate life, and support the CBTF and other brain tumor families.

Please join our family at the 2008 CBTF Stride for Life/5K Walk/Run
Sunday September 7, 2008 at 9:00 AM
At Lake Fairfax Park, in Reston, Virginia (close to Tyson’s Corner; same location as last year, but different course)

Whether you’re a returning participant or joining us for the first time, we would love to see you!

You can register one of two ways:
1. Online at http://www.active.com/page/Event_Details.htm?event_id=1599209&assetId=30d10fa3-77b5-4ba3-ab67-baa3e576ede5

2. Or print out the attached registration form, fill it out and mail it in.
http://www.childhoodbraintumor.org/FINAL2008_Stride-NEW_final%20Web.pdf

On the registration, be sure to note you’re on TEAM SUPERMAN – so we can include you in our team mailings and in the T-shirt count!

Advance registration closes September 1.
If you have any questions, drop me an email.

Hope to see you there!

Jaime, Jon, Matthew & Daniel

Team Superman Soars!

2007-10-09T20:17:00.000-04:00

“Team Superman” made a dramatic appearance at the Childhood Brain Tumor Foundation (CBTF) 5K on Sunday, September 30. Our team numbered more than 150 and accounted for approximately half of the participants at the event. Moreover, we were highly visible in our brightly colored Team Superman T-shirts! It was a phenomenal day -- the weather was perfect, the trail through the woods was serene and beautiful, and we were incredibly grateful to be together. Special thanks to those of you who got up early on a Sunday morning to join us. Additional photos may be found at: http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=8958q09.blh1d0yx&x=0&y=-be461s.

We thank all of you for generously supporting the cause of pediatric brain cancer and for helping us turn Team Superman into a reality. All of the money raised will be used to fund a study on germ cell tumors of the brain, Matthew's rare diagnosis. To date, we have raised over $40,000 -- more than twice our original goal! Thank you to all of you for making this possible.

With much gratitude,
Jaime, Jon, Matthew & Daniel

We're on Track...

2007-09-19T20:42:00.000-04:00

...to meet our goal - and surpass it!

A HUGE thank you to everyone who has contributed to our campaign so far! Thanks to the generosity of so many, we whizzed past our initial goal of raising $20,000 and have set a new goal of $30,000, which will allow us to attract a stronger pool of proposals from major research institutions. If you'd like to donate, please go to our fundraising page at www.firstgiving.com/TeamSuperman.

If you are wavering about joining us for the 5K Walk/Run, there is still time to sign up. You can register in advance online at http://www.active.com/ and walk-ins will also be accepted. The event will be held at Lake Fairfax Park, Reston. I visited the park today. It's a beautiful site, about 7 miles northwest of Tysons Corner Center (see sidebar, top right, for directions). We'll be following a circular route, and many of us (myself included) will be walking, not running. So there's no excuse for not coming out and joining us! If you register by September 20, you're guaranteed a really sharp looking Team Superman T-shirt. After that, I can't make any promises, but we'll do our best.

By the way, I've just learned that September is National Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, which makes our campaign even more meaningful. The Conquer Childhood Cancer Act was introduced in both houses of Congress earlier this year with the aim of increasing federal cancer funding by $150 million over five years; however, the bill remains stalled. In the meantime, more than 12,500 children are diagnosed with cancer annually and 1/4 of them lose the fight, not to mention those whose lives are irreparably altered. Brain tumors are the deadliest form of childhood cancer; yet, according to the Children's Oncology Group, the leading consortium of childhood cancer researchers, "survival rates for Central Nervous System (CNS) tumors have not seen a dramatic change across the board in the past twenty years." In my opinion, it's a national disgrace. But this is not the time or place...

A HUGE thank you to all of you who are supporting Team Superman with your contributions and/or with your participation in our upcoming event. We are overwhelmed by all of the support we've received and deeply grateful. We look forward to seeing you on the 30th!

Team Superman Soaring High

2007-09-03T22:51:00.000-04:00

Thanks to all of you, Team Superman is off to a super start!

As we move into September, we are already at 40% of our goal - and we are tied for first place as the most popular fundraising page on the firstgiving.com website. This is all fantastic!

There is still plenty of time to sign up for the 5K Walk/Run. The advance registration deadline is September 20. (You can still register after that, or even as as walk-in, but the fee is slightly higher.)

If you'd like to register, either email me for a brochure (jbanksresearch@comcast.net) or download it at www.childhoodbraintumor.org/events.html. When you register, be sure to indicate that you are part of Team Superman AND please drop me an email as well, so that I can keep a running list of team members.

Please contact us if you have any questions - and thank you for your support!

Here are some recent photos:

Having a Blast at Ali's 25th

Woodneck Beach, the Kids' Favorite

Back to School, 6th and 11th Grades

What's New with Us?

2007-07-08T10:45:00.000-04:00

Announcing Team Superman

During those many long months of struggling to get even one step ahead of Matthew's brain tumor, we could only dream of a time when we, as a family, might have an opportunity to strike back against this dreaded disease. Well, we feel that time has come...

We are excited to announce that we are organizing Team Superman (for the significance of this name, check out our 2/2/06 posting) to participate in the Childhood Brain Tumor Foundation "Stride for Life 5K Walk/Run" on Sunday, September 30, in Reston, Virginia.

All proceeds raised by Team Superman will be used to fund a study on germ cell tumors of the central nervous system (Matthew's diagnosis). Research is seriously needed to fight this rare disease. One of the more horrific aspects of our ordeal was that, after Matthew failed his initial chemo protocol, there were no data to guide his treatment. Our goal is to raise sufficient funds to support one good study that will advance understanding of treatment options.

We will be sending out more info by email and mail in the next few weeks on how you can support Team Superman with your participation and/or donations. We would love to include everyone who reads our blog and might be interested in participating. If there's a chance I might not have your email and home address, please send this information to jbanksresearch@comcast.net so that I can keep you in the loop.

Thank you in advance for supporting us in this effort!!!

***************************************************************

... and a Long-Overdue Update

It's been a long while since I posted a family update. Now that we're back home and in a mostly normal routine, it's hard for me to know what and how much to post. (My thinking goes like this: If our lives are more or less similar to everyone else's lives at this point, why would anyone want to read about us?) Nevertheless, I run across a fair number of people who say to me (wistfully? reproachfully?): "You're not writing the blog anymore, and I miss it," and this gives me the encouragement to post this brief update of what's been happening in our lives over the past few months.

Family Trip to Utah

We had an awesome spring break trip to Utah for five days of skiing, followed by five days of touring the national parks.

For Matthew it was a sweet return to the sport he loves so much and a relief to find he had lost none of his skill or balance. Danny turned into a real skier on this trip, leaving me behind after the first day and heading off with Matthew & Jon for tougher trails. For the second half of the trip, we drove across much of Utah and hiked the gorgeous scenery of Capitol Reef, Bryce Canyon, and Zion National Parks. It was quite spectacular.

Matthew's Trip to Russia

Matthew had an amazing time in Moscow. He stayed with a most welcoming host family, met some fantastic people, saw many sights and took a ton of photos. His dominant impressions were 1) that Muscovites don't generally smile in public, and 2) that life in Moscow is very different from life back home. His best story involves how he and the host son, Daniel, talked their way into a disco, (despite not being old enough), using math skills to impress the bouncer into thinking they were college students. It's a lot more colorful the way Matthew tells it.

Race for Hope

The first weekend in May, our family, along with several friends, participated in the Brain Tumor Society Race for Hope 5K to support brain tumor research. This amazing event attracted more than 6,000 participants and raised over $1 million. At the check-in area we had the unexpected pleasure of running into both Matthew's neurosurgeon from Johns Hopkins and our consulting neuro-oncologist from Children's National Medical Center. As the race started, it was uplifting to see Matthew among the large group of yellow-shirted survivors surging down Pennsylvania Avenue toward the U.S. Capitol building, as well as sobering to see how many lives are affected by this devastating disease.

School Year Round-Up

Well, without mincing words, the 10th grade school year was extremely tough: Matthew spent every ounce of energy and nearly every second of free time doing homework just to keep up with the workload - and he was still going to have to attend summer school this summer and next if he was going to graduate on time with his class.

On the sidelines, Jon & I were becoming more & more convinced that something "had to give." After getting loads of valuable input from friends and professionals (and friends who are professionals!), we sat down with school personnel and came up with a proposal to extend Matthew's high school term by one semester beyond 12th grade. The proposed plan permits Matthew to remain with his class while taking a reduced schedule over the next 2 1/2 years, have breathing room over the summer, and postpone SATs/college planning for another year. We are all pleased to have arrived at this option and hope that it will make our lives considerably less stressful!

Summer Plans

Summer has gotten off to an excellent start. Matthew is concentrating on fulfilling his high school community service requirement. He attended two weeks of community service camp downtown and is now working two afternoons a week as a youth counselor at The Children's Inn, with children who are receiving treatment at the NIH. He is also practicing with the swim team, working out with a trainer, playing guitar, and catching up with friends. He turned 16 last month, but so far has not pushed too hard on the driving front!

Danny (who has sprung up like a weed and is now practically my height) has been attending a very active day camp for the past three weeks (one week left to go), where they swim twice a day, play all kinds of sports (soccer, football, ultimate frisbee, etc.), go kayaking and horseback riding, do drama and art, and come home pleasantly exhausted.

In mid-July, both boys will head off to different sleepaway camps and Jon & I will fly up to Maine for a week of biking, kayaking, and hiking. Later in the summer, when the boys come home from camp, we hope to spend a week on Cape Cod visiting Jon's mom.

Hope you are having a good summer. We'll be in touch!

Getting Involved in Advocacy

2007-04-03T21:43:00.000-04:00

I can't believe it's been so long since my last posting. There is MUCH to report and I would like to give a more detailed update when time permits. But for now, here are the highlights:

1) Matthew continues to do extremely well with his cochlear implant. School and everyday social encounters still present lots of challenges (most of which he takes in stride), but comparatively speaking the c.i. is a vast improvement. He is hearing so much better than before the implant, it really is tantamount to having his life back again.

2) Matthew was recently thrilled to be awarded one of eight slots on an exchange program to Russia sponsored by The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington. On April 22, he will travel with seven of his schoolmates to Moscow for a one-week visit. The kids will be housed with English-speaking families, sightsee, and participate in joint programs. We are grateful that Matthew's health and hearing are well enough for him to take advantage of this wonderful opportunity,

3) On March 15, I was pleased to attend the re-introduction (the bill was unsuccessfully sponsored last year) of the Conquer Childhood Cancer Act in the House, sponsored by four Congressmen, including our own Rep. Chris Van Hollen. This bill, introduced in the Senate as well, calls for $30 million annually over a five-year period to be dedicated to childhood cancer research. At the press conference, I was approached by a reporter who later called to interview Matthew. The story went out on Maryland Newsline (here's the link: http://www.newsline.umd.edu/health/pediatriccancer031507.htm) and was picked up by the Baltimore Examiner (http://www.examiner.com/a-624248~Teen_s_cancer_battle_illustrates_need_for_funds.html).

It's almost impossible to believe , but 1 in 330 Americans develops cancer before the age of 20, and brain tumors are now the most common cause of cancer-related death in children, having surpassed childhood leukemia.

Now that Matthew is in a more stable place, we are eager to apply our talents and energies to fighting pediatric brain tumors. We are also looking for ways that we can help other families faced with this devastating diagnosis. More on this to come.

We've Got Him Back!

2007-01-31T16:13:00.000-05:00

Matthew's cochlear implant was activated today - and it works! And he's able to hear!

Early this morning, the four of us headed up to the Johns Hopkins Listening Center. Matthew says he was nervous, but also excited, as were we all. We had waited so long for this day to arrive, it was hard to believe it was finally here.

I plan to post some links that will explain cochlear implants in more detail but, in a nutshell, the external device includes three components: the speech processor, which is connected to a cable, which is connected to a headpiece. The processor is worn over the ear, like a hearing aid. The headpiece attaches by magnet to an internal receiver implanted under the scalp. The receiver is connected to a long filament of electrodes that threads into the cochlea.

Steve, our audiologist, started off by testing the implant to be sure all 16 electrodes were in good working order. Then, he placed the processor on Matthew's ear and began activating each of the electrodes, one a time, to determine the highest volume level that felt comfortable. All Matthew could hear at this point were individual scratching sounds, but he was smiling nonetheless because, as he described, "it was incredible to hear such precise, keen, sharp sounds - exactly what you lose with a hearing loss."

Then, the moment we had all been waiting for - the microphone was turned on, we held our breath, and Steve started to speak aloud. First, Matthew's face broadened into a grin and then he laughed. "You sound like a chipmunk!" he said. Later, he amended the comparison: "You all sound like giant bugs, but understandable bugs; and understandable bugs are a lot better than non-understandable people!"

It is typical for cochlear implant users to say that, at first, everyone sounds like cartoon characters. Cochlear implants do not restore accoustic hearing; they replace it with electronic hearing. In a normal ear, millions of tiny hairs respond to vibrations of the eardrum and stimulate the auditory nerve to send signals to the brain. With a cochlear implant, sounds are coded electronically by the speech processor, then sent through the cable, through the headpiece, to the receiver under the scalp, to the electrodes inside the cochlea. These electrodes fire the auditory nerve and send messages to the brain; but a limited number of electrodes cannot capture the full range of sounds that our ears are able to perceive. Thus, c.i. hearing sounds somewhat flat and synthetic - at least until the brain learns to adapt.

Matthew says it sounds as if everyone is talking through a voice changer. "It's like nothing I've ever heard before." As he knew to expect, music sounds terrible (because the current technology is not great at converting music) but this is expected to improve as Steve introduces new programming strategies and Matthew's brain adjusts to the new stimuli. And Matthew is still able to enjoy music with his non-implanted ear. Overall, in his words, "It's awesome." In Danny's words, "It's a miracle."

Matthew has had a great early response to the device. Many c.i. users take weeks or longer to be able to hear the radio or speak on a telephone. But Matthew was able to hear both right away. As Matthew gets used to the implant, he will be able to take in a expanding range of sounds. We will be returning to see Steve again in two days, and then again in a week. At each visit, he will reprogram the processor - and Matthew's hearing experience should improve.

We asked Matthew how he wanted to celebrate this major new step. "By going to school," he answered. So we dropped both boys off at their respective schools, and Jon & I went out for a celebratory lunch. Two administrators from school called this afternoon to let me know how great Matthew was doing, and when I picked him up late this afternoon, he was in a wonderful mood. Tonight we were able to have a dinner conversation for the first time in many months. We are clearly off to a very good start - and we are so grateful.

Milestone

2007-01-22T10:44:00.000-05:00

We're at Day 365 post-transplant. I've got no words to top that.
Instead, how about some recent pix:

Clowning around at home

Impromptu guitar lesson in Captiva, FL, over winter break

Waiting to board the flight home

Amazing article by a c.i. recipient (referring to Matthew, click here)

2007-01-14T12:27:00.000-05:00

This morning at the computer, I discovered an email posting on one of the listserves I subscribe to - Association of Adult Musicians with Hearing Loss. It referenced an article in this morning's Providence Journal about a hearing impaired adult musician, Richard Reed, who has been able to return to music, thanks to a cochlear implant.

I was especially delighted to see the article because Richard is no stranger to us. He was introduced to Matthew several months ago and has been corresponding with him on and off, helping Matthew become comfortable with the idea of receiving an implant and also helping to shape his expectations of what c.i. assisted hearing will be like.

Although I knew a little about Richard before, reading his complete story in the ProJo was fascinating. I kept thinking, 'Wait until Matthew reads this.' Then, three quarters of the way through, I realized that Richard was alluding to Matthew in the article as his 15-year old guitar playing correspondent. How cool is that!

Check out the article (by clicking on the title above). It will give you both a good sense of what it's been like for Matthew to live with profound hearing loss over the past year and also what challenges he will face as a c.i. user going forward.

The Second Longest January Ever

2007-01-12T17:24:00.000-05:00

We’re not superstitious, but January makes us a little jumpy. Three years ago on Superbowl Sunday, our house caught on fire during halftime. Two years ago January, Matthew began complaining of a headache that led to his diagnosis ten days later. Last year, Matthew spent all of January in the hospital, completing one stem cell transplant and starting a second one. In that same month, Jon’s dad Larry passed away.

This January, we’re in a more hopeful place – we currently stand at Day 356 post transplant, inching ever closer to the mystical one-year mark – but the days can’t pass quickly enough. We have 20 days to go before Matthew’s implant gets “activated.”

Matthew is doing ok, but it’s very rough for him to get by with practically no hearing whatsoever. He still has a small amount of hearing in the unimplanted ear; however, his implanted ear is now 100% deaf. Although we knew this would be a difficult period, it was still a shock for him to put on ear buds and hear no sound whatsoever and for us to see our child become even more impaired.

The first few days after surgery were especially difficult. Matthew was exhausted physically and emotionally. For the first 48 hours, he had to wear a funny Styrofoam contraption (like a lopsided version of an early model football helmet) and was supposed to keep his head in an elevated position. These two factors made it difficult for him to sleep comfortably. But I know his exhaustion was also due to the increased energy now required for hearing. So, the weekend was a bit tough. Here we were, worn out from the hospital experience, tending to Matthew’s physical needs (removing the bandage, dressing the incision, sticking to a medication schedule), having to expend more energy just to talk with him, trying to manage our frustration and emotional distress, trying to muster some enthusiasm for the weekend (after all, it was New Year’s Eve) and some perspective (things are going to get better, look where we were last year at this time). You get the picture…

Somehow Matthew has gathered the energy to go back to school. I don’t quite know how he’s getting by. It’s hard to imagine the strength and courage it must take at 15 to go to school every day bald, tired, and unable to hear most of what’s going on around him, yet facing his friends, his teachers, and a demanding workload.

On the home front, much of my energy is still tied up in managing Matthew’s needs – helping him organize his schoolwork (memory and organization are even bigger challenges than they were before), driving him to tutors, keeping in touch with the school, interfacing with doctors, following up with the insurance company.

And we’re facing a lot of difficult questions as parents. On one hand, we know this is the age for Matthew to start taking more responsibility for himself. On the other hand, we recognize that he is dealing with some major challenges and disabilities and has basically lost a year and a half. So how much should we intervene?

Do we tell our 15-year old when to go to bed – or allow him to stay up until midnight doing homework night after night when, in our case, there’s more at stake than his falling asleep in class the next day. There are real concerns about his immune system.

And if Matthew accidentally leaves his FM system (the lavaliere microphone his teachers wear, which transmits their voice wirelessly from the front of the classroom directly to his hearing aids) at home, do we run it over to the school because ,without it, he won’t be able to hear anything in class that day? Or do we allow him to go without it to realize the natural consequences of his actions?

On the social front, do we allow him to go on a weekend trip with a friend – or say “no” because being on the slopes is too great a risk until his hearing improves? Must we permit some risk in order for him to learn to live with his disability? To what extent should we act to protect him?

Taking a step back, it occurs to us that last January these concerns could not have been farther from our minds. So aren’t we fortunate even to be considering these questions?

This weekend, we will see a performance of “Stomp” at the National Theater. It’s a show involving percussion, movement and visual comedy, where the performers make “music” out of all kinds of common objects – brooms, trashcans, pipes, etc. No words are spoken. Should be the perfect theater outing for our hearing-challenged crew.

A Big Step

2006-12-28T21:07:00.000-05:00

Today was cochlear implant surgery day. Jon, Matthew & I were on the road early this a.m., heading to Johns Hopkins. (Danny stayed overnight at a friend's.) There was a beautiful pink sunrise overhead, which we interpreted as a sign of good things to come.

It was a long day, but everyone from the surgeon on down was extremely kind and caring. The actual surgery lasted only about 1 1/2 hours, but there was a lot of sitting around and waiting ahead of time - and then it took a long time for Matthew to wake up from anesthesia and feel well enough to leave. By 4:00, we were in the car driving home.

The incision must completely heal over the next four weeks before the implant can be turned on. For the next month, the implanted ear will be completely deaf and Matthew will have to get by on one ear only. So, in the near term, things will be harder before they get easier.

On the ride home, Matthew was tired and, somewhat in pain, but in a very expressive and expansive mood. While Jon drove, I wrote down Matthew's thoughts. Here they are:

"I feel an excitement I didn't anticipate, boundless wonder I haven't felt before. In terms of my hearing, my story has been a closed door, unchanging. I haven't been used to looking up, being inspired. Now, I'm feeling a great feeling.

I was so scared before [the surgery]. But then, I decided: Just cut the crap. Just do it. Now I feel I can choose how I'm going to live from now on. Things are going to change for the better. I won't have to use all my energy trying to make them better.

I'm not thinking about the music right now - just feeling happy, better and ready. We have been planning this for so long. I can't even imagine how it's going to be when they turn on the implant.

I'm finally seeing new light. Now that I feel this way, there's no way it can be worse. I can mold it the way I want. For a year, I haven't had anything to work with. At least now, there's something. It may not be an actual foundation, but at least it's a great big pile of bricks that I can turn into something.

I can't wait to turn the implant on. It will be the craziest experience of my life - like being reborn. I feel we're at the start of an adventure."

One Year Later

2006-12-15T22:11:00.000-05:00

Tonight is the first night of Chanukah, a holiday that commemorates miracles. This is a theme that is very real for us.

Today marks the one-year anniversary of entering the hospital for stem cell transplant #1. On this day, a year ago, both of our cars broke down en route to the hospital - one in the driveway, the other on the way to the hospital. On this day, we found ourselves stranded on I-95 near Elkton, Maryland, awaiting rescue, while engaging in heated cell phone discussion with the Johns Hopkins admissions office, who threatened to turn us away at the door because they wouldn't accept our insurance approval. Meanwhile, Matthew was outside spinning around on the slick pavement, inspiring the "Skating on Thin Ice" episode (blogged on 12/18/05).

One year ago, in the hospital, I remember trying valiantly to evoke some Chanukah spirit by wrapping the door to our room in shiny paper and blue & white garland. Matthew got out of bed to help me, but he was too weak and the exertion made him throw up in the hallway. Later that evening, Jon & Danny joined us. We lit an electric menorah together, sang songs, and exchanged gifts. The first night of Chanukah happened to coincide with Christmas day. Even the import of the double holiday could do little to dispel the depression that pervades the Johns Hopkins pediatric oncology unit. Despite the tree in the entrance and the special sweets in the family lounge, it was a gloomy day.

Fast forward one year later. Yesterday, Jon & I attended parent-teacher conferences for the first time in two years. We were gratified to learn that both boys are doing well in school. Big fifth grader Danny reportedly seems to be in a good place academically and socially. Matthew's ability to ease into 10th grade seems like a miracle given his missing the prior three semesters and the extent of his hearing loss. It is no less a testament to his teachers, administration, and classmates, all of whom have provided tremendous support.

Another miracle: Last evening, Matthew returned from a very special, extremely generous four-day trip to Orlando, courtesy of Chai Lifeline, a wonderful organization that supports families facing life-threatening illness. He was one of 44 kids on the trip. Last year, he was eligible to go, but too sick to travel. This year, he was able to take this much needed break (although, it should be noted, the trip has significantly set him back in school to the extent that it may require a miracle to catch up!)

Yesterday, we spent a long, exhausting day at the hospital, trudging through three appointments - pediatric oncology clinic checkup and blood draw, audiology appointment preparatory to the cochlear implant surgery now only two weeks away, and a one and one-half hour spine MRI. The MRI experience really put us over the edge - and we didn't get home until nearly 8:00 p.m. But the essential thing is that by this morning, we were able to rejoice that the test results were all normal. The way is now completely clear for cochlear implant surgery.

A short while ago, we returned home from a small, informal Friday evening Shabbat service/Chanukah celebration in which Matthew played guitar and sang harmony in a small teen combo. Given the extent of his hearing loss, it seems like a miracle that Matthew can participate in making music. This evening, we lit the first Chanukah candle and said the customary blessings. The second blessing recognizes "the sovereign of the universe, who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days at this time," and the third blesses God "who has kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season." Both of these certainly hit home.

So, here we are, marking a milestone. Once again, I'd like to quote the same passage I quoted last year:

Hanukkah is not just some celebration of miracles performed in the past.
Neither is it just a commemoration of righteous people who lived in the
distant past. It is a guiding light for people from all walks of life, from
all eras in time, to see through the darkness of their personal lives and to
become a part of history. It is encouragement for those who face
insurmountable odds as a result of personal history. It is a declaration
that God will perform miracles for us when we courageously stand up for
battle. It is inspiration for us to be our own Maccabees in waging our inner
battle." (Rebbe Nachman of Breslov)

In the next year, I hope we will all continue to rejoice in miracles, but what do you say we take a little break from insurmountable odds?

Giving Thanks

2006-11-22T22:29:00.000-05:00

Matthew & I were at Johns Hopkins most of the day today for our big tri-monthly visit. As usual, we were anxious and irritable going in. It's impossible not to be. The long day was taken up with stops at imaging (brain MRI), neurology clinic (shunt resetting), and pediatric oncology clinic (blood tests and check up). Leaving the hospital, we were physically and emotionally drained. On the way home, our fellow called with the results: All of the tests look good. (Really? yes, really.) A simple phonecall. Monumental news. Huge relief. Suddenly the pouring rain and congested holiday traffic were not so much of an annoyance.

We've reached the 10-month mark now, but who's counting? Tomorrow we'll sit down with both of the moms, Jon's brother Carl & family, extended family & friends. We're setting the table and preparing the turkey. Everyone's bringing everything else. We are truly grateful to be together. We remember all too well where we were a year ago this time - just home from Boston, anxiously waiting to enter the next phase of treatment, feeling like we were dangling on the edge of a cliff. What a year it has been. How much we have to be thankful for.

Wishing a happy Thanksgiving to all!

Mondays aren't so bad anymore

2006-10-16T10:27:00.000-04:00

How do I summarize the past couple of months? Well, it's Monday, and I don't have knots in my stomach, and we're not heading to Hopkins pediatric oncology clinic. That says a lot, right there. (By the way, we have remained at Hopkins for Matthew's care - it's a long story for another time.)

Over the past couple of months, things have been blessedly quiet in one sense (no sudden medical surprises to knock us off our feet) and happily busy in the way that many of your lives are and ours used to be. We did manage to get away on a spectacular 12-day vacation (Danny's fever be damned) to British Columbia - Whistler Resort, Pacific Rim National Park, Ucluelet, Victoria, and Vancouver city. We hiked, mountain-biked (highlight of Matthew's trip, low point of Jon's), kayaked, horsebacked, fished, zip-lined over raging river canyons, observed bald eagles, herons, sea lions, and even a lone black bear.

This was our first real vacation, without anything hanging over us, since Matthew's diagnosis in February 2005. It was gorgeous and restorative - a splurge we felt we deserved - and we had a wonderful time.

We arrived home and headed to Hopkins the next day for the monthly blood tests and the every three month (two-hour) MRI. Got the wonderful news that evening that all the tests came out clean. Two days later, Matthew returned to school, rejoining his 10th grade classmates. There wasn't a happier 10th grader on the planet. There were no happier parents on the planet.

So, here we are, seven weeks later. I can't really speak for Matthew in terms of describing what it's like for him to be back at school. I know he's thrilled to be back with his friends and back in the place he loves. I also know it's very hard for him to function with his degree of hearing loss. In school, he receives written notes and uses an FM system - a transmitter that the teacher wears around his/her neck, that transmits wirelessly to Matthew's hearing aids. This definitely helps in class when the teacher is talking (although it leads to some humorous situations, such as when Matthew steps across the hall for a bathroom break and can still hear the teacher's voice booming in his ear). However, it doesn't help with class discussion or small group work - or in the normal social interaction that takes place in the halls, the lunch room, and the classroom.

Matthew says it's a tremendous challenge to interact socially. One-on-one conversation is fairly manageable, but with a third person added to the mix, listening becomes twice as hard. With a fourth person, it becomes impossible. It's too hard to keep up with the flow of discussion; it's too hard to keep asking people to repeat themselves; it takes all the spontaneity out of interaction. The problem is that the high school/teen experience is mainly a group experience. So our highly gregarious son is largely relegated to the sidelines - forced to observe social situations, rather than participate in them.

It is for this reason that we are moving toward a cochlear implant (ci). For the past couple of months, I've been immersing myself in ci research - talking with hearing professionals, industry reps, and ci wearers. With the help of some amazingly resourceful friends, we've connected with several late-deafened musicians who are now ci wearers. These individuals have shared their personal experiences with us and helped Matthew understand what challenges he is likely to face as a ci wearer. The bottom line is that a ci is likely to improve Matthew's hearing in speech situations, but will to some degree (extent unknown) impair his ability to hear and appreciate music. Nevertheless, there are ci wearers out there who have been able to train their ear and bridge the gap, who are recording and teaching and earning their living as musicians.

This is a steep price to pay, but Matthew has accepted the reality of the situation. Even with his current hearing, he is able to hear musical pitch fairly well. In fact, he auditioned for and was accepted into Shir Madness, his school's a cappella choir (a source of incredible joy). However, he says there is no point in hearing music if he cannot interact with people the way he wants to. We support his thinking on this and are prepared to go forward with a ci. Our consultation with the Johns Hopkins team is next week - and we have a tentative surgery date set for December 20.

On other fronts: The rest of us are doing fairly well. Danny has gotten off to a great start in 5th grade. He likes his teachers and appears to be doing well. He enjoyed a great baseball season, with his team sweeping every game - until yesterday, when they lost by just one run. The soccer season (with Jon as coach) is still in full swing and going well.

The two moms are both in good health. Jon's mom is back in Baltimore now, after spending the summer on Cape Cod. My mother has a big birthday coming up - and we're honoring her with a luncheon at the end of this month.

Jon & I are still exhausted and just trying to take things one day at a time. Today is our 18th wedding anniversary. It's is a good point to reflect upon our blessings - the most important of which is that we have one another to rely upon for strength and courage and support. I can't imagine how difficult it would be to get through something like this without a supportive partner.

It also happens to be Day 266 post transplant. We count the days, we count the weeks - each one bringing us closer to the magical one-year mark when we can breathe a little easier, so the doctors tell us. It's a difficult way to live. You have to fool yourself, discipline your mind. You have to think day by day, taking one step at a time. You can't look too far down the road, can't plan too far ahead. We're doing the best we can do - trying to create a full, rich life for our family, while at the same time living in fear of what the next moment may bring.

An example that drives this home: One day on vacation, we had just ferried over to Salt Spring Island, a small picturesque island in the Gulf Island chain off the coast of Vancouver. We were sitting having a lovely lunch at a little vegetarian eatery, when suddenly Matthew got a troubled look on his face, said he felt "strange," excused himself from the table and disappeared for about 20 minutes. Jon & I sat paralyzed, watching our food grow cold. Quietly, so as not to worry Danny, he and I asked each other, "Where do you think is the nearest hospital?" "How frequently do the ferries run?" To myself, I thought, "Oh, God, here it comes - the next blow. Just when we least expected it. Just when our defenses are down." In the end, it was nothing. Matthew came back to the table. We spent the afternoon hiking around the island and foraging for blackberries. But the sense of uncertainty, the knowledge that the rug could be pulled out at any second, is always there.

It may come as no surprise to anyone that the High Holidays were particularly difficult for us this year. Jon kept thinking of his father. I kept having flashbacks of where we were exactly one year ago: Matthew standing at Rosh Hashana services one week to the day of his surgery; the mad dash up to Boston two days later to start radiation; fasting and attending services in Newton in between radiation treatments.

Speaking personally, I would have to say that my belief in a force of greater good is pretty well challenged at this point. I had always gone through life with a sense of well-being, trusting that all would turn out ok in the end. That's pretty much gone for me now. Sitting in services this year, I felt angry and abandoned. (Why should I ask for forgiveness? Shouldn't I be the one asking for an apology?) And yet...

I have never believed in a literal God, but to me God has always been synonymous with goodness. Certainly I have seen much goodness in the past year in the spirit of boundless caring and compassion that we have seen again and again in the many individuals who have reached out to us with love & support - in many cases, people we hardly know. That is certainly something to honor, admire & celebrate - and perhaps this is what will allow me to regain an overall sense of rightness with the world. Although this comes late, I want to wish all of you a happy, HEALTHY, sweet new year.

He's Home!!!

2006-08-13T21:00:00.000-04:00

The boy is back - very tan, very happy, loads of stories. We were SO excited to see him. Couldn't do anything all day long yesterday due to the anticipation.

However, we're dealing with a little problem. Danny came down with a 103 degree fever today - and we're scheduled to leave for our long awaited family vacation in a couple of days. So, it's off to the pediatrician we go. Will catch up later.

Camp Update

2006-08-03T09:00:00.000-04:00

Well, as the photos show, Matthew's having just a miserable time at camp......NOT!

Things started out on a less than relaxing note. Last Tuesday (Day 2 of camp), I received a call from the nurse that went like this:

Nurse: "Everything's fine and we don't want you to worry, but we're taking Matthew to the hospital."

Me: "Why?"

Nurse: "He was playing a game of 'Mercy' and we think he may have broken his finger."

Me: (Laughing) "No problem - a broken finger, we can handle ."

As it turns out, the finger was not broken, only sprained. You can see from the photo how much it seems to be restricting his activities.

However, the medical concerns last week were not entirely lighthearted. On Tuesday, in between calls from the camp nurse, I was also getting calls from Holy Cross Hospital regarding my mother, who had arrived there to receive an outpatient transfusion for her ongoing anemia and ended up being admitted for a severely slow heart rate. She was in the hospital until Friday, when they implanted a pacemaker and sent her home. She seems to be doing ok - although the fact that she's been hospitalized five times since January has us all worried.

Despite the fact that we still seem to be stuck in Hospital World (and even driving into a hospital parking lot sets my nerves on edge) , we are all doing pretty well. From the sounds of it, Matthew is having a great time at camp. (For those who don't know, Capital Camps is coed - and intelligence tells me that's a significant factor.)

Danny is out of camp now and enjoying the high life. (It's now 9:30 in the morning and young Dan is still fast asleep.) In the past week, he's gone to playdates, lunch dates, sleepovers, a baseball game, and the movies (Editorial opinion here: Pirates of the Caribbean 2 is to be avoided at all cost.) Jon flew up to Boston last weekend to spend time with Ali and Bobbie in Woods Hole. Both are doing well. Ali's raised over $2,000 for breast cancer research and is walking in the Avon Breast Cancer Walk this weekend. Go Ali!

So, life is relatively relaxing and we're enjoying this interlude. Hope you are, too.

Off to Camp!

2006-07-24T21:23:00.000-04:00

At about 8:30 this morning, Matthew boarded a bus for Capital Camp. Jon & I might have looked like all the other parents waving goodbye to their kids, but I'm pretty sure that our experience was different. After all we've been through, it seemed like a miracle even to be standing in that parking lot. Maybe it felt that way for him, too. Through those long, endless hours and days in the hospital, enduring endless treatments, it never seemed we'd reach this point. Yet there he was, getting on the bus, just like he's done since he was 10. Miraculous.

Matthew's been looking forward to camp, but his excitement is mixed with trepidation. He knows it will be hard given his hearing loss. It's almost impossible for him to hear anything in a group situation - and camp is a group experience pretty much all the time. But he says he's lowered his expectations. He's not looking for the best camp experience ever; he's just happy to have some freedom and independence - and an opportunity to be with other kids.

Last week, we drove up to camp for a pre-meeting with the directors and counselors - to give them a heads-up about Matthew's needs. We walked up to the dining hall just as all of the campers were gathering to go in for lunch. All of the kids were lined up by bunk. Some of Matthew's friends saw him and ran over to greet him. Just at that point, the the song, Seasons of Love, from the musical Rent, started to play on the loudspeakers:

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

If it sounds melodramatic, it was. I welled up in tears. Matthew was already caught up with his friends and too busy to notice.

Danny's in camp for one more week. So, for the first time in 18 months, I have a bit of time on my hands. I'm planning to help my mom, catch up with some of my own long delayed medical appointments, visit with friends, and get back into exercise. After this week, Danny will be home and we'll make plans together. Sounds pretty good.

I leave you with a poem I heard Garrison Keillor read several years ago on Writers Almanac. I loved it then, and it's even more meaningful now:

"The Summer-Camp Bus Pulls Away from the Curb," by Sharon Olds.

Whatever he needs, he has or doesn't
have by now.
Whatever the world is going to do to him
it has started to do. With a pencil and two
Hardy Boys and a peanut butter sandwich and
grapes he is on his way, there is nothing
more we can do for him. Whatever is
stored in his heart, he can use, now.
Whatever he has laid up in his mind
he can call on. What he does not have
he can lack. The bus gets smaller and smaller, as one
folds a flag at the end of a ceremony,
onto itself, and onto itself, until
only a heavy wedge remains.
Whatever his exuberant soul
can do for him, it is doing right now.
Whatever his arrogance can do
it is doing to him. Everything
that's been done to him, he will now do.
Everything that's been placed in him
will come out, now, the contents of a trunk
unpacked and lined up on a bunk in the underpine light.

Proud Swim Team Mom

2006-07-01T19:13:00.000-04:00

Here are shots of Matthew swimming in today's "A" Meet. He qualified for four events: Individual Medley, Freestyle, Back, and Breast, and took one second place ribbon, two thirds, and a fourth. We did not get to see him swim, as we were attending a bar mitzvah, but we heard he did great!
The Pittsburgh trip last weekend was useful for me, although not too rewarding for Matthew. I got a LOT of information about cochlear implants, communication technology and IEPs. The best find was a device called a HATIS Silhouette which allows him to hear comfortably through a regular phone or cell phone. That discovery alone was worth the trip - and Matthew, Debbie & I had a fun time tooling around a new city.

This week, we were extremely grateful to receive good news on Matthew's bloodwork. We had a consult at Children's National Medical Center and will probably switch Matthew's care over to there. It's been an agonizing decision for us (because it's frightening to face the unknown), but we feel it may be good to have a fresh start and this seems like a good time to move our care closer to home.

We appreciate everyone who has signed up on the Lotsahelpinghands website to help us out with driving, shopping and meals. Thank you so much for making my weekday load a lot easier. The stress of everything right now is making it harder for me to organize our family - so having this support really helps.

2006-06-21T14:02:00.000-04:00

These past few weeks have been intense with activity on various fronts - hearing, educational, and medical. We regret we haven't been very good at returning phonecalls or emails. The truth is Jon & I are feeling worn out a good deal of the time.

The only news that really counts is that Matthew continues to hold steady on the cancer front. All of his tests have been normal. We have been stretching out the Hopkins visits to every 2-3 weeks, which means less stress from going there and fewer periods of anxiety while we await test results. Matthew's looking good and feeling great. He started attending hour-long swim practices a few weeks ago and made a great showing at the first swim meet this past Saturday (placing second in freestyle and third in individual medley).

We were in Los Angeles over the Memorial Day weekend, attending the lovely wedding of Jon's cousins, Sara Klevens & Yosi Loewenbein. While there, we had an in-depth consultation with a doctor at Children's Hospital LA who is one of the leading experts in Matthew's tumor type. All in all, it was a useful consult and we appreciated the opportunity to have an extended discussion with someone so knowledgeable about this rare diagnosis. As some of you know, we have been frustrated with communications at Hopkins for a long time. Although we have been satisfied with the major medical decisions and quality of care, we have been extremely unhappy with the impersonality of care and lack of access to the senior physician. We have spent considerable time over the past weeks weighing our options and considering whether we should transfer Matthew's care to another institution. Stay tuned...

This past Monday was Matthew's 15th birthday. The poor guy spent most of the day studying. He has been working furiously over the past weeks to complete 9th grade English, history and math. Today he took a two-hour final in World History - so that's one course almost finished (still needs to complete a short paper). It's tough to be in school when it's 85 degrees outside and all of your friends are hanging out by the pool or at the mall. His motivation, discipline and persistence slogging through the schoolwork is truly admirable. His goal is to have the three courses completed by the time he goes to Capital Camps for three weeks in mid-July.

Over the past weeks, our most difficult challenge by far has been on the hearing front. Matthew's hearing has continued to decline to the point where he now has profound loss. In February he was hearing well with the smallest in-the-ear hearing aids. Today, he is wearing behind-the-ear power aids - and they can only do so much. He is able to hear ok when someone speaks one at a time, facing him, in an environment with no background noise, repeating as necessary. Even under these circumstances, it takes a lot of energy for him to hear and understand. With sensorineural hearing loss, it's more than a matter of amplifying the sound. The auditory nerve cannot discriminate between similar sounds, so words sound muffled or mangled. Matthew explains that listening takes a tremendous amount of energy; trying to participate in a conversation can leave him exhausted. We are obviously extremely concerned about what this bodes for school in the fall. So we're going through an IEP process with Montgomery County to have Matthew's educational needs assessed. He's determined to continue at his current school (JDS) and we're committed to keeping him there, but there's no question it's going to present a challenge.

The hearing loss is obviously a major curve ball - one more lesson in the category of "just when you think you know what to worry about, something else comes along..." And it's not as if we can take our eyes off the C-monster, it's just that we now have something more immediate to worry about. One really miserable aspect of the hearing issue is how it's affected Matthew's music. (As everyone knows, music is the thing that matters to him the most.) Matthew's still able to play guitar and sing. However, the ENT we've been consulting at Hopkins has warned him to stay away from loud environments since exposure to loud sound could damage his hearing further. This means Matthew's had to face the fact that he can't play any amplified music (which means not practicing with his band), can't attend concerts or class assemblies, or loud restaurants. We worry even about movie theaters. It's cruel punishment for a kid who is a natural-born extrovert, who loves a party; who, even as a baby, loved being in a crowd.

But, he is accepting things and so must we. Matthew's doing aural rehabilitation (speech reading) with a speech therapist twice a week. This weekend, he & I (and Cousin Debbie Kahn) are driving to Pittsburgh to attend the convention of the A.G. Bell Association, an organization dedicated to helping those who are deaf and hard of hearing function in the hearing world. Matthew is excited to attend the teen program. Debbie and I will attend educational sessions and visit the Exhibition where we hope to learn as much as we can about assistive technology and cochlear implants.

So, my friends, it's been a bit rough. We had all hoped that by this point in time we'd be back to a semi-normal existence, but that really hasn't been the case. Even as we keep our eye on the positives, it's hard to accept that our son has been left with a permanent disability. But it hardly seems fair for us to complain when Matthew is the one who has to live with it - and he is doing so with such splendid grace and acceptance. At the IEP screening meeting, he floored the County personnel when he described what his hearing loss feels like. To paraphrase his words: "I just have to choose what I'm going to listen to and I let the rest of it go by. I realize I just can't catch everything. And, in a way, it's good because it's made me a more reflective, introspective person." How does one respond to that?

On an ending note, I'd like to acknowledge our wonderful, generous synagogue community (Adat Shalom), which continues to respond in an incredibly generous way. One of the aspects of our life that was most wearing me out was the constant driving - to tutors, school, doctors, therapists. Recently Beth Sperber Richie posted an announcement asking for driving help - and dozens of people came forward to volunteer their services. So Matthew's been meeting a lot of new people, en route to various appointments. He's loved the social aspect - and I've been using the extra time to care for Danny and catch up at home. A sincere thank you to all who have helped!!

2006-05-15T10:52:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, Mother's Day, was especially memorable. Danny presented me with a necklace he'd made and breakfast in bed. Matthew wrote a card that made me melt. Then, together with my mom (picked up from the rehab facility), Jon's mom, and my Aunt Edna, we all went to lunch. And, to top it all off with a surprise, my sister's baby arrived three weeks early - Miles Freilich, named for our dad. Congrats to Sara & Steve in Providence!

I haven't had much energy to blog these past few weeks because we've just been so emotionally and physically exhausted. We travel up to Hopkins every Monday for a clinic visit and bloodwork. Over the past few weeks, Matthew's also had a follow-up spinal tap and MRI. Thankfully, there have been no surprises.

I hope I'll get to the point in life where I don't dread Mondays. The Hopkins visits are completely draining. It's partly the anxiety of having to undergo the medical tests and await the results. But it's also the stress of dealing with the impersonal clinic environment and the indignity of being processed like a number. We are fortunate to be under the care of some extraordinary, caring professionals. But, too often, we have the experience there of being ignored, treated rudely or, in the worst cases, severely disrespected. It usually takes us until Wednesday to get over the Monday experience. To help us cope with Mondays, I've taken to wearing an amulet - a special pair of earrings which Jon gave me years ago. They're silver and stamped with the Native American sign of a bear claw. It's an inside joke between Matthew and me. I'm the Mama Bear protecting her young. Watch out!

Our major preoccupation these past weeks has been Matthew's hearing loss. We've been active on many fronts: going back and forth to the audiologist to get the best possible hearing aids; getting second opinions about possibly ameliorative treatments and cochlear implants; starting aural rehabilitation therapy/speech reading (formerly called lipreading) and practicing these skills at home; submitting paperwork to the county school system to have Matthew's educational needs assessed (although we have every intention of remaining at JDS); researching products (like vibrating alarm clocks and amplified phones) to make Matthew's life easier; and networking with all kinds of hearing loss professionals, community folks, parents & teachers who can serve as resources for us. Special thanks to those of you who have helped us in tracking down and following up leads.

Matthew's doing an amazing job of adjusting to his disability. He's had ups and downs, but on the whole is accepting his loss and is determined to move on. He is working hard to catch up on his classes and pass 9th grade. We have appointments with three different tutors, each twice a week, plus additional visits in & out of school for tests. It's a demanding schedule and it feels like we're on the road all the time.

One of the highlights of the past few weeks for Jon and me was watching Matthew stand up and talk, by invitation, before the local Make A Wish chapter. He spoke about his experiences over the past year:

"I've overcome my fear of needles (ha!), met some famous people, and been spoiled rotten. But also I've learned an endless amount about myself; I have a much better confidence in my own strengths and I'm more grown up now. Also I have learned a ton about my family, my friends, and about human nature."

He also talked about how he decided upon his own "wish":

"My mind dipped into different visits with Red Sox players, famous musicians, and lazy days on sunny beaches... After a couple of weeks, I came to the conclusion that I did not want to meet anybody famous because I had no assurance that it would be a good experience. I didn't want to go on a trip because I figured that we could always go on a trip when we felt we needed one. Also, all this hospital time put me way behind in schoolwork and I didn't feel like I could really afford to take time off. I realized that I did not want to pick something that would just start and be over with before I knew it. I wanted something I could have and use over time, maybe my whole life. What if I could have a recording studio in my basement?"

In fact, this was the wish that he requested and Make A Wish delivered last December, just before Matthew entered the hospital for his bone marrow transplants. Now that he's home, he's enjoying learning how to use the system. Thankfully, even with his impaired hearing, he's still able to play the guitar and sing.

Danny seems to be doing well. He's busy with school, soccer and baseball. The weekends are chock-full with his practices & games, and we all love watching him play. He's especially looking forward to tomorrow when we all head to Camden Yards to watch the Orioles play our beloved Red Sox.

Jon & I are very tired and very nervous, but just happy to be all together and well under one roof. That's the news for now...

2006-04-19T08:31:00.000-04:00

Hope everyone is enjoying a good spring break and holiday...

We are just back from our week in Boston. It was great to get away and spend some close family time; and Boston truly feels like a home away from home for us. We loved visiting with family and friends and we were made to feel welcome everywhere we went. Jon & Danny had an opportunity to meet some of the terrific people Matthew & I had gotten to know last fall. Highlights of the trip included spending time with friends & family, having seders with my sister (7 months pregnant) and the Sperbers, visiting Ali at her new job, dropping in for an impromptu lesson and jam session at Brookline Music School, a warm reunion with the proton beam team at Mass General, kayaking on the Charles River AND a sunny, Saturday afternoon Red Sox game, where we sat in the world's greatest seats - four rows back, directly behind the catcher! Even though the Sox lost to Seattle, it was an extraordinary thrill to be there.

Matthew is feeling great & holding strong on the medical front. However, we are struggling quite a bit with hearing issues. Absorbing the reality of his progressively worsening hearing loss is somewhat like dealing with the impact of his initial diagnosis. Of course, the implications are quite different but, all the same, it is a terrible loss and we are dealing with grief and shock on an emotional level, while at the same time we must function rationally - mobilize ourselves to learn as much as we can, as quickly as possible, to understand the options, make critical decisions, and line up the help we need. It all feels very overwhelming. If you have any experience in this area - or know of anyone who can help us - please email me privately.

Then - there is the situation with my mom. She is in rehab now, close to our house, and doing ok. But I am quite concerned with her persistent anemia problem, which has caused her to be hospitalized twice in the past few months before this incident and which, I am convinced, was the underlying cause of her most recent fall. A huge thank you to everyone who has volunteered to stop by and visit her. It's a huge relief to me to have help in this area, since I am so completely immersed in addressing Matthew's medical & schooling needs.

Adjusting to Home

2006-03-27T21:35:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I posted anything. We've been home for three weeks now. I wouldn't say life is "back to normal" - rather, as one friend aptly put it, it's a "new normal" - but, certainly in every way, we feel huge relief to be out of the hospital, out of treatment, and all together under one roof.

Matthew has been feeling relatively well except for occasional aches & pains and mild stomach distress. He's got his appetite back, is eating well and trying to regain some of the weight and strength he's lost. He's also working hard on schoolwork to make up for lost time, meeting with tutors in math, English & history, and sneaking into school in the middle day for individual lessons and tests. (He's not allowed to attend classes for the remainder of the school year due to concerns about infection.)

Every Monday, we go back to Hopkins for a clinic check-up and bloodwork. The emotional terror (and accompanying mental and physical exhaustion) this induces is almost impossible to describe. Between last Monday's appointment and Tuesday noon when we finally got the phonecall saying the bloodwork was normal, Jon & I could barely breathe from anxiety.

Tonight (Monday evening), as I write this, I am so physically exhausted, I might have been chopping wood all day, but it's just the aftereffects of a day at Hopkins. Today's visit was particularly draining. We had three appointments - the first in Radiation Oncology, where we heard two entirely contradictory opinions about whether or not Matthew should receive additional "booster" radiation treatment for added protection (neither of which reflected the supposed consensus our docs have been giving us for the past three weeks), the second in Audiology, where we learned Matthew has incurred additional hearing loss, and the third in Pediatric Oncology Clinic, where we tried not to hold our breath as they drew the weekly blood draw. At the end of the day, we received the call with the only news that really matters - that the bloodwork looks normal - but the demands of the day had already left us mentally, emotionally, and physically completely spent.

Against the backdrop of these stresses, we are trying to enjoy the good times and get back to our normal routines. In the past weeks, Matthew has visited with friends, hosted a poker night, and participated in book club. Danny has resumed baseball & soccer. Jon's coaching again. I'm making an effort to get back into exercise & yoga. I've also gotten back into my kitchen with a vengeance. In an effort to entice Matthew to eat more, I've baked more in the past three weeks than I did in the past three years.

We're still living in limbo, but we're also starting to make a few plans. We've excited about going to Boston for Passover/spring break to see family members and also many of the new friends we made in the fall. Matthew's planning to take a summer school course in biology and Danny has camp lined up. We're still taking it one day at a time, but we're also trying to cautiously look ahead.

Matthew's incredible attitude still leads us forward. In conversation last week (in the Target parking lot), I asked him if he ever thinks back to the time before "all of this" started. He responded: "Don't go there Mom. It's not worth it. Besides, I still have everything that matters - my family, my friends, my home, my music. That's all that counts. The other stuff really doesn't matter. Now let's go do some clothes shopping...!"

Home at Last

2006-03-06T18:04:00.000-05:00

At approximately 4:30 p.m. this afternoon, we arrived home. Matthew walked through the door for the first time since December 16. He helped unpack the car, spoke briefly with Lina and his brother, and then left to play basketball at our neighborhood clubhouse around the corner. Life is good!

Music to Our Ears

2006-02-27T22:38:00.000-05:00

Last week was another emotional blockbuster, but happily there is good news to report.

First of all, Larry's memorial service on Tuesday was attended by over 300 people. It filled two auditoriums at the School of Public Health. It was a beautiful program in which Larry's colleagues and grad students paid tribute to him as a scientist, colleague, and mentor. Jon, Carl & Ilene also gave beautiful remarks. The service came at the end of a long day during which Matthew had to undergo a three-hour PET scan, the first of a series of post-treatment "restaging" studies. In the middle of the service, I saw our oncologist's number flash on my phone. I waited until the end to call him back, my heart in my mouth.

Thankfully, the report was good. It was the first of several tests that week, including a brain MRI, an abdominal CT scan, a spinal tap, and blood tests. Each day another test, another period of interminable waiting, another phone call. Somehow, we got through it all without flinching. Finally, on Friday afternoon, I received the call saying the last tests were clean. We had made it through the first gauntlet. Our sense of relief was enormous, but tempered by the knowledge that this was only the first of many checkpoints to come. Next week, there will be another test for tumor markers - and every week thereafter for the foreseeable future. Each time we will hold our breath; and each time I will freeze when our doctor's name appears on caller ID.

***

As I started to write this, music was coming from the next room. Matthew was playing a Dave Matthews tune on the guitar and singing along: "I am no Superman. I have no answers...for you." This would be unremarkable except that he has not picked up the guitar or sung for several weeks...since the second round of high-dose chemo left him with mild to moderate hearing loss in one ear, moderate to severe loss in the other.

Just days before heading into the first transplant, we learned that a common side effect of one of the chemo drugs is hearing loss. The loss could be mild or severe, but most likely irreversible. It seemed impossibly cruel and unfair that Matthew might lose the one comfort most important to him - his music; but we had to accept that risk since there was no alternative to the treatment.

A couple of weeks into the first transplant, we tried not to panic when Matthew reported feeling one ear blocked. The effect seemed to be more pronounced in one ear than the other, so we held onto a foolish hope that it was only earwax until a hearing test just prior to the second transplant confirmed that there was a degree of loss in both ears. Terrified, we entered the hospital for the second transplant, knowing that additional loss was likely. Would he wake up one day unable to hear at all? We held our breath and tried not to dwell on this possibility.

After the second round, it soon became clear that his hearing had worsened. He could no longer hear us unless we faced him and spoke loudly. A second audiogram was scheduled while Matthew was inpatient. It was emotionally wrenching to sit next to him in the testing room and watch him miss one word after the next. That night he tried valiantly to sing and accompany himself on guitar, before giving up in frustration. Later that night, he wrote a powerful poem with the ironic refrain:

The notes are bad, bent out of key,
but it sounds fine, just fine to me.

In the next couple of weeks, Matthew worked hard to adjust to his hearing deficit. We purchased a small amplifier from Radio Shack, which helped a lot, and he also started reading lips. Talking to one of us or working with a tutor one-on-one wasn't a problem. However it was definitely hard for him to follow a conversation with more than one person talking.

This story ends on a happier note literally and figuratively. Before leaving the hospital, Matthew was fitted for tiny hearing aids - and just last week, they arrived. Their impact has been immediate and dramatic. Matthew sang all the way home in the car, the first time he'd sung in weeks. He chatted away at dinner that night and afterward went upstairs to play guitar. It's hard to describe what beautiful music this was to our ears. Hearing aids can't restore his hearing 100%, but they seem to go a long way.

***

We were all together in Baltimore this weekend - and we had a wonderful time. The latest word from our doctors is that we should be able to go home sometime next week. That will be nice.

Out of the Hospital, Still in Baltimore

2006-02-15T17:05:00.000-05:00

We've been sprung! It happened on Sunday, in the aftermath of the Big Snow. Matthew was supposed to be released on Saturday, but we convinced the docs to wait until the snowstorm was safely over. Poor Danny had to reschedule his birthday party due to the storm - more evidence (from his standpoint) that all the forces in the universe are aligned against him. (Actually, he handled it pretty well after getting over his initial rage.)

Matthew and I are now living with Jon's mom in the pleasant Mt. Washington section of the city, about 15 minutes northwest of downtown. We're traveling back & forth to Hopkins every other day for check-ups and tests. Matthew is feeling well - even stronger than after the last round (probably because he remained hospitalized a little longer). He still has to be very cautious about germs, wearing a mask in public and avoiding crowds, but he's got lots of energy and is eating again. (It's pretty annoying for him to be living with his mother AND grandmother, however, both us constantly urging him to eat more and dress more warmly).

We are likely to remain in Baltimore (to be close to the hospital) for another couple of weeks. Hopefully then we will be allowed to return home. For now, we're just thrilled to be out of the hospital.

Since we have received a number of inquiries, I wanted to announce that there will be a memorial service for Jon's dad this Tuesday, Feb. 21, at 3:30 p.m. at the Johns Hopkins School of Public Health. For more details, directions, etc., please email me or Jon.

Hitting the One-Year Mark

2006-02-02T17:17:00.000-05:00

As the new month rolls in, it's impossible not to reflect upon the events of the past year. Yesterday, Feb. 1, was the one-year anniversary of the day I first took Matthew to the pediatrician's office to investigate his persistent headache. The remainder of that week was hectic in what is now a much missed ordinary way: We drove kids back & forth to school and had friends over on Friday night. We went out for dinner with friends on Saturday night. We baked a special cake for Danny's 9th birthday and hosted a "Super-Bowl" party for him at the local bowling alley on Sunday. That night, we watched the big game on TV with friends.

The next day, Feb. 7, Matthew stayed home from school to return to the pediatrician's office. By the end of the day, after criscrossing back & forth between the pediatrician and the radiologist, we were finally informed that the scans revealed some type of brain tumor and advised to go directly to the Hopkins emergency room. That night (or rather morning - it was 2 a.m.), we walked for the first time through the doors of the Pediatric Oncology unit (a precise moment one never forgets) and spent the first of many nights to come sleeping in a hospital chair-bed. Two days later, Feb. 9 (on Daniel's actual birthday), we received an official diagnosis.

The news was staggering. The treatment plan (6 cycles of chemo, followed by 6 weeks of radiation) daunting. It seemed as if an impossible gauntlet had been thrown before us - an obstacle course no mere mortal could possibly get through. (This is when Jon & I latched onto the visualization of Matthew as Superman, the inspiration for which came from a trick photo he'd taken several months earlier at a friend's bar mitzvah.) And then, within a few days, just as we were struggling to accept the horror of it, everything changed, unimaginably, for the worse. Matthew's status became critical; he was rushed into the emergency room for shunt surgery; he was in the pediatric ICU for a week, barely conscious and at times unable to recognize us; and we found ourselves begging the doctors to start chemotherapy as soon as possible. All of this happened within the first 10 days.

Since then, most of you know the story. After six cycles of inpatient chemo, everything looked promising. Matthew had finished 8th grade, was feeling strong, swimming on swim team, and planning to resume school in the fall. We celebrated his 14th birthday and the end of chemo, packed our bags and got ready to move up to Boston for radiation treatment...when we got the shocking news that he had relapsed. The latest scan showed the tumor growing. Both at Hopkins and at Mass General, even the doctors couldn't believe it.

We unpacked our suitcases and hunkered down to begin a different chemotherapy regiment. July and August passed. Then, in mid-September, we again received bad news. The latest chemo had failed to halt the tumor growth, so the recommended course was now surgery. Over the next 8 days, we moved through a fog, barely breathing from fear, at the same time dealing with all the necessary logistics - confirming the surgeon, reserving a hotel room, making plans for Daniel.

It was a harrowing 5-6 hours of waiting - the longest hours of our life - but Matthew came through surgery with flying colors - and was home (miraculously) three days later and on the sideline watching his brother's soccer game the very next day. In less than a week, before we could catch our breath, we would be on a plane flying to Boston to set up temporary home and begin radiation treatments. We settled into Brookline and began treatment, five days a week, for six weeks straight. Matthew attended high school and music school and received tutoring in the hospital - and the six weeks whizzed by in a flurry of activity, with Jon & Danny coming up on weekends to visit.

We left Boston at the end of November and arrived home in time for Thanksgiving. The following week, we learned the heartbreaking news that there were elevated tumor markers in Matthew's blood, indicating that tumor cells were active in his body - not in the brain this time, but in the abdomen, transported there by the shunt that had been placed to reduce fluid and pressure back in February. High-dose chemotherapy along with stem cell rescue (a bone marrow transplant) was required - not one, but two times, a "tandem transplant." We sat on the edge of our seats for four weeks, knowing that it was highly toxic to initiate high-dose too soon after radiation, while worrying that every day of delay was giving tumor cells a chance to spread. We entered the hospital in mid-December to begin high-dose chemo and have remained in Baltimore since then. Matthew has rounded the corner on the second transplant. His blood counts are trending upwards nicely and we expect to be released sometime next week, although we will have to remain within close proximity of the hospital for at least another 3-4 weeks, returning for check-ups every other day. And the story is, of course, not over.

Nevertheless, here we are. It is once again Superbowl weekend and once again Danny's birthday. A year has passed. It is almost impossible to believe what we have lived through - 10 rounds (over 40 cumulative days) of chemotherapy, six weeks of radiation, five times in the OR, countless MRIs and CTs and spinal taps. Matthew & I have lived away from home more than half of the past year.

How does one sum up this experience? I'd like to be able to say something profound or eloquent, but I don't think I'm there yet. I have only small bursts of insight, such as: what an exquisite pleasure it is to go to sleep in your own bed (especially with your husband beside you); how extraordinary it is to have a boring, ordinary day; how much simpler life becomes in the midst of a crisis, because your priorities suddenly become very clear (and everything else is so obviously unimportant); how much kindness and caring count during hard times (because you cannot trust a medical professional unless you truly believe that they care about you); and how tricky a thing is fear. You can worry and worry about the thing you fear the most, but most likely that fear will turn out to be nothing; and it will be something else entirely that rises up to get you. And then, of course, there is courage. One could never be grateful to a monster like childhood cancer, but witnessing our son's courage and grace and inner strength has been a breathtaking experience.

I need to close this blog entry with a thank you. We could never have made it to this point without the incredible support of family and friends. Our hearts overflow with thanks to all of you who have helped keep us afloat with meals and childcare and grocery shopping and petcare; with rides to and from the airport and with temporary housing; with books, movies, and other diversions; with emails, cards, letters and gifts; with hospital visits and home visits. Thank you to the teachers and administrators who have personally worked to keep Matthew engaged in learning over the past year and to his friends who have continued to include him in their circle. Thanks to those of you in Boston who reached out to us as strangers. Thank you to the exceptional individuals in the medical community who have gone beyond their professional duties and reached out to us in a caring, compassionate way. You stand head & shoulders above the rest - and we are grateful to know you and to have you on our team.

Transplant Day

2006-01-23T09:11:00.000-05:00

Matthew had his stem cell transplant today. The stem cells that were harvested from his body last August have been in deep freeze until now. They were delivered inside a sealed pouch (see right) inside a metal box inside a freezer canister and thawed out in a warm water bath. The pouch is then hung from an IV pole and the contents are infused into his body through an IV line. The whole process takes about 15 minutes and would seem altogether anticlimactic, if not for the fact that those cells are critically needed to replace his entire immune system. Without them, one could not recover from the chemotherapy.

Matthew is feeling really well at the moment. He had three nights of chemotherapy last Wednesday, Thursday & Friday and spent the weekend resting up. Jon stayed in Baltimore and I went home to be with Daniel. It felt a little strange to be home (first time since New Year's Day); sad to say, but at this point I think I'm more comfortable living out of a suitcase than sleeping in my own bed.

Thankfully, the pediatric oncology unit has become a much more comfortable place to stay than it was a few months ago. First off, the floor has been renovated so that all of the rooms are now private rooms. Second, they have replaced the horrid cafeteria food with a room service type program, where all of the peds onc patients can order the food of their choice off a menu at any time of day - and it gets individually prepared in a private dining room and delivered to the room. Interestingly, the docs are noticing that their patients are losing less weight and doing much better nutritionally since the new program was initiated. Funny how that works!

2006-01-16T22:35:00.000-05:00

I am sad to report that J0n's dad, Larry Grossman, passed away Friday, January 13, just 10 days short of his 82nd birthday. Jon, his mom, Bobbie, sister Ilene and brother Carl are all doing ok. The family held an informal memorial service in the home on Saturday night. There will be two shiva minyans in Bethesda. In addition, there will be a formal memorial service at Johns Hopkins University (where Larry was a biochemistry department faculty member and department chair for many years) in about a month's time. Please contact Loren Amdursky (nelseh@aol.com) for details. To read about Larry's amazing life and impressive contributions to the field of DNA repair, see the
Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health website.

As you can imagine, we are all going through a great deal of stress, both from the week that passed and in anticipation of the week ahead. The weekend brought family members together from many parts of the country, so at least we all had an opportunity to be together. It was a challenge to allow Matthew to socialize and participate, while at the same time trying to keep his fragile immune system safe from germs. On Saturday, he sat in an upstairs bedroom of Jon's mother's house with a mask on his face. Family members were allowed to visit him a few at a time - but only after they, too, donned a mask and lathered themselves in Purell. For the service, he came downstairs, sat apart from the crowd, and performed the Beatles tune, "Blackbird" on the guitar along with his Uncle Carl.

This is the week that Matthew goes back into the hospital for the second round of chemo and transplant. We are heartened by results of the latest tests and by Matthew's strong recovery from round one. At the same time, we are of course apprehensive about what lies ahead. If we've learned anything, it is to expect surprises.

Temporarily Free (sort of)

2006-01-08T22:19:00.000-05:00

Matthew recovered quickly enough from the chemo and stem cell transplant that he was released from the hospital this past Wednesday, only 14 days after his transplant. He will recuperate for a couple of weeks before returning to the hospital for a second round of treatment (chemo and transplant).

We are required to remain within 20 minutes of the hospital at all times, which means we cannot go home. Cousins Brett & Elizabeth have graciously offered us their spare bedroom. So Matthew & I are now ensconced in a beautiful condo on the waterfront close to downtown Baltimore and just around the corner from the hospital. Brett & Elizabeth are relaxed hosts and wonderful company, and we feel grateful to have them.

Although it always feels good to leave the hospital, last week was stressful, as Matthew was released in a greatly weakened state and under all kinds of restrictions. Over the past few days, however, he has come a long way and now has much more energy. My focus is on getting him to eat as much as possible to try to recoup some of the weight he has lost over the past weeks. We're currently on a two-hour eating schedule!

Jon & Danny came up on Friday - and the four of us went off to a downtown hotel to have some close family time. We spent the weekend playing Red Sox Monopoly and visiting with Jon's family. Jon's sister Ilene and her husband Greg are in from Chile. The family is all on alert, as Jon's dad is sadly fading.

We are trying hard to keep up our spirits, although this is definitely a tough time. The last treatment was rough on Matthew (as strong as he is) and we have only a brief interlude before it starts all over again. We have to report to Hopkins every other day this week for check-ups and tests, which means we will constantly be on the edge of our seats waiting for the results. We anticipated this would be a difficult time - and so it is.

Happy New Year

2006-01-01T22:37:00.000-05:00

The past week has been extremely emotional and intense for our family. Last Sunday, Jon's dad was taken to the emergency room of Sinai Hospital. He had been in rehab at a local nursing home, recovering from hip surgery following a series of accidents over the past few months. However he developed a fever last weekend and arrived at the hospital severely dehydrated and unresponsive. Unfortunately his condition has deteriorated since then and he is now receiving hospice care. Jon's siblings, Ali, and other family members gathered in Baltimore over the weekend to be at Larry's bedside and to help support Bobbie.

At the same time, this was a critical week for Matthew. The week following transplant is always the toughest week for bone marrow transplant patients. Matthew apparently made it through pretty easily, according to the doctors, but still had to endure major challenges. He had frequent, massive nosebleeds which would not stop due to his low platelets and which necessitated almost daily transfusions. He was pretty tired most of the week and had difficulty eating due to mouth sores produced by the chemotherapy. He was on a lot of medication and slept a lot. He also had some high fevers, which were pretty worrisome. Through it all, he has maintained his incredible
attitude and barely expressed a complaint.

By yesterday, he was feeling much better and able to eat and move around. He had visitors during the day; and we were able to spend the early part of New Year's Eve evening all together. Most importantly, his blood counts are trending up nicely, indicating that his body is recovering well from this cycle of chemotherapy. Once he is completely recovered, he will have a brief break and then we expect to start all over again with a second chemo cycle, followed by a second transplant.

This was also Danny's winter break week. He had playdates with friends, spent time with Jon & me and other family members, and visited with Matthew in the hospital. It wasn't exactly a vacation, but I think he had an ok time. It's tough for all of us, but perhaps especially for him.

Given the intensity of our lives right now, it's hard to think very far ahead. However, we certainly are hoping and praying for a better year than the one that just ended. Wishing all of you a happy new year and, most importantly, a healthy one.

2005-12-25T21:01:00.000-05:00

So this is what it feels like to spend Christmas/Hanukkah in the hospital. There are very few people in the hospital. The halls are practically empty, except for those few who have to be here. I feel especially bad for the patients, families & staff who celebrate Christmas. It's so "unfestive" here. Hanukkah is not a major holiday, so being here tonight is not so different from being here any other night. But to spend Christmas in the pediatric oncology unit must be horrible. No one even utters the words, "Merry Christmas." There's just nothing "merry" about it.

Matthew is doing pretty well, considering all he's been through the past week. He weathered the chemo pretty easily and the stem cell transplant went off without a hitch. He's looking good, eating a little, and has pretty good energy. The major problems over the past few days have been nosebleeds (a problem when you have low platelets), an allergic reaction to a transfusion, minor fever, some abdominal pain and nausea. All of this sounds like a lot, but in the scheme of things, I guess, not very serious.

We spent this first night of Hanukkah together in the hospital. We lit our electric menorah, sang blessings, and gave the kids presents. Afterwards, we played the traditional dreidel game, spinning the top to see who could win the most chocolate coins.

Hanukkah is, of course, a holiday that celebrates miracles. I guess I never thought much about that on a personal level before, but this year is certainly different. In that spirit, I found this very meaningful quote that I printed out to share with the other families and staff:

"Hanukkah is not just some celebration of miracles performed in the past.
Neither is it just a commemoration of righteous people who lived in the
distant past. It is a guiding light for people from all walks of life, from
all eras in time, to see through the darkness of their personal lives and to
become a part of history. It is encouragement for those who face
insurmountable odds as a result of personal history. It is a declaration
that God will perform miracles for us when we courageously stand up for
battle. It is inspiration for us to be our own Maccabees in waging our inner battle."
Credit: Chanukah with Rebbe Nachman of Breslov by Yehoshua Starrett, Breslov Research Institute http://www.nehora.com/

Wishing you happy holidays...

Skating on Thin Ice

2005-12-18T17:40:00.000-05:00

It's Sunday evening and I'm writing from Matthew's bedside. He's received two days of chemo so far. Tonight is the third and last course. He'll then have two days off treatment before receiving his stem cell transplant on Wednesday. He's feeling tired, has a slight fever, and is having some stomach discomfort, but otherwise seems to be handling the chemo pretty easily. Today he felt well enough to have visitors, although he's clearly feeling pretty knocked out.

It's been relatively quiet since we arrived at the hospital, but we're still reliving memories of Friday, a day so intense, so surreal, as not to be believed. We woke up that morning with understandable anxiety knowing that Matthew was headed back to the hospital for major treatment, but we had no idea what lay in store. Challenge #1 was finding Jon's car dead in the driveway. We abandoned our plan of taking two cars to Hopkins, enlisted Lisa S.'s help to get Jon's car towed to the garage, loaded up my van with the considerable amount of luggage, food, room furnishings, etc., we'd packed, and headed off to the hospital.

Challenge #2: All week long, we'd been awaiting a decision from our health insurance company, Unicare, to approve Matthew's treatment. At the same time, to avoid any possible delay in treatment, Jon had begun talking with the hospital to come up a private pay agreement in the event the insurance decision did not come through on time. The hospital took an extremely tough position and would not agree to reasonable terms. Jon's law firm (the good guys in this story) generously stepped forward to serve as our guarantor and negotiate an agreement on our behalf. Thursday night, things reached a climax, as Unicare (the other good guys in this story) approved the initial transplant, while the hospital's legal department (the bad guys in this story) refused to accept the approval and continued to press for extraordinary financial concessions. On Friday morning, as we were driving to the hospital, the drama continued to play out as the hospital's legal counsel vowed to bar Matthew from admission unless we agreed to their outrageous terms.

Challenge #3: Halfway to Baltimore, with Jon in the midst of intense strategy discussions with his firm and the insurance company, my van (an Odyssey - interesting literary significance) started to overheat, forcing us to pull over to the side of I-95. We inched down the shoulder of the highway heading for the nearest exit. Miraculously just off the exit, we found a small auto repair shop where the mechanic diagnosed the problem (the thermostat) and promised to fix it by end of day. We tried calling various people (including the state and county police) to come rescue us, eventually reaching Sabra G. So, there we were, after all we've been through in the past year, with two cars broken down on the same day, in an auto repair lot in Elkridge, MD, en route to the hospital for a bone marrow transplant, wondering if Hopkins would even admit us - with so many calamities happening at once and, as one friend articulated, the sense that the breakdown in our outer world was reflecting the chaos of our inner world - when Matthew let out a cry of delight. He had spotted a patch of ice just outside the car (it had sleeted the night before) and then, in the next moment, he was outside on the ice doing pirouettes and Michael Jackson moonwalk moves and mugging irresistible faces. He was skating on thin ice - but he sure was enjoying himself.

Although we felt like emotional wrecks, things actually began to look up from that point. Sabra rescued us from Elkridge and we transferred all our gear into her car. We arrived at the hospital (and, to our relief, were not stopped at the door), where our doctors greeted us warmly. Later in the afternoon, Unicare called to tell us they were so outraged by Hopkins' behavior that they were making an executive override decision to approve ALL of Matthew's treatment. Matthew was admitted to the hospital and started to receive chemotherapy later that evening. Jon stayed with Matthew; Sabra drove me home via Elkridge, where I picked up our repaired van, and drove home to pick up Danny. The rest of the weekend has been fairly uneventful and Matthew is doing ok.

The question is, what next?

2005-12-16T08:27:00.000-05:00

(From Loren Amdursky, family friend)

To the Friends of Matthew:

I am writing to you to let you know that Matthew is back in Hopkins for an extended stay for very aggressive chemo treatment. He is expected to be in the hospital for the next 4-8 weeks, as the high-dose chemo regimen will require a bone marrow transplant with Matthew's own stem cells. This treatment has been expected since the summer, but that does not make it any easier. One parent will be at the hospital at all times and one will be at home with Danny.

Naturally, everyone is very worried, since the treatment carries a number of serious risks. Jaime will post updates to the blog when she feels up to it, but it may not be too frequent .

We will again be providing meals for the family at home (Carol Feder at (feder@comcast.net) to volunteer) and scheduling visitors to Hopkins (Yael Kane (ykane@jnf.org) at will be keeping the schedule). We understand that Matthew and parents will be allowed to have (healthy) visitors, as long as he/they feel up to it. I will continue to try to keep up communications as well as periodic requests for particular kinds of help, and Sabra Gelfond (sabra_g@hotmail.com) will be keeping a schedule of kid visitors and Danny's needs.

It means a lot to know that you are thinking of Matthew daily, and holding the family in your thoughts and prayers.

With warm wishes for happy holidays, peace and good health for us all,
Loren

What's Ahead

2005-12-05T19:10:00.000-05:00

Our last day in Boston, Tuesday, Nov. 22, was a busy one. We drove Matthew to Mass General for one final radiation session, then came back to the apartment, packed up the car with the four of us and all our gear, and made the long drive home.

Two days later, we hosted Thanksgiving dinner for our extended family. Thanks to the culinary generosity of various friends, each of whom prepared a delicious dish, all I needed to do was set the table and roast the turkey. It was a wonderful gift to have dinner provided for us in our own home and we especially want to thank everyone who made it happen. It was a great feeling to be all together in one place - and it did not take long at all for Matthew & me to adjust to being at home again.

I wish I could say that these feelings of peacefulness and relaxation have continued on, but unfortunately that has not been at all the case. Last week, we drove back & forth to Hopkins for three days out of five
undergoing various tests, and today we were back again. It appears that Matthew will be readmitted for high-dose chemotherapy sometime in the next 2-3 weeks - and will need to remain in the hospital receiving treatment and/or going through recovery for the better part of the next couple of months. We knew there would be additional treatment ahead, but did not realize the full extent of it, so it has been very difficult for us to accept this latest news. It certainly has been a swift and hard comedown from the fun-filled days we were having in Boston.

Against this backdrop, we are still striving to maintain some sense of normalcy. Since arriving home, Matthew has attended two big social events with his AZA youth group. We went bowling as a family this weekend and also attended our mother/son book group. Matthew is looking forward to being in school as much as possible over the next couple of weeks. In fact, snow is falling as I write this update - and Matthew's probably the only kid in his grade hoping there is NOT a snow day tomorrow!

Daniel is doing great. He's matured a lot physically and emotionally over the past couple of months. The joke in our house is that Danny grew so much because he didn't have to compete with Matthew for seconds at dinner (or, more likely, because of all the delicious meals everyone was delivering to the house).

We are gathering our collective strength for the difficult period ahead, even as we have confidence in Matthew and our family to make it through. We will need lots of help, moral and logistical, and we are comforted to know there are so many standing by to support us. We will ask for specific help in the weeks ahead both here on the blog and via our email list. For now, we just ask that you continue to hold Matthew in your thoughts and prayers.

Settled in Boston

2005-10-09T10:08:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to post a quick note to say that we are now settled in Boston and doing fine. Matthew started receiving radiation treatment last Tuesday, so tomorrow starts the second week. He is so far feeling no ill effects from the treatment - and for this, we are grateful.

We were extremely fortunate to find a great furnished apartment in Brookline, just down the road from Fenway Park. (Can glimpse the Citgo sign from our window - small consolation given the Red Sox' demise.) Jon & Danny were here with us through the weekend - just long enough to get us unpacked and to teach me the essential driving routes. Last week we were able to spend Yom Kippur with Jon's cousins Josh & Anna, and their parents, Susan & Joel. We were also able to see Ali and Sara & Steve (my sister & brother-in-law). It's been great having so much family support.

All along, Matthew has been excited to make the move up here, viewing it as a terrific adventure. I, on the other hand, was truly panicked at the thought of leaving home, separating the family, and losing my support system . It was especially hard to do this so soon on the heels of surgery, with so little advance notice, and in the midst of the high holidays.

I would like to use this space to profoundly thank everyone who gave me the courage and energy to make this very difficult transition. Thanks to you, by the time we arrived in Boston, we already had a list of housing options, families, social service agencies, schools & synagogues to contact - so many, in fact, that I still haven't had time to follow up on all of them. My concerns about being alone in a strange place disappeared with the warm outpouring of caring & concern. Arriving here without a place to live, we were graciously put up in various homes, received multiple invitations to dinner and many other offers of support. Within the first few days, several different families offered to have us live in their homes for the duration of Matthew's treatment. We have been overwhelmed by all of the generosity and kindness.

With housing in place, treatments underway, and Matthew feeling well, our goals for this week are to put some type of schooling/tutoring arrangement in place, to help him find a musical outlet (he's been busy playing guitar, writing and recording songs), and to find ways for him to connect with other teenagers.

As always, we'd love to hear from you. Best ways to get in touch are by email or cell phone.

Home

2005-09-30T15:22:00.000-04:00

We're home. Matthew's doing great. Ali's flying into town. We look forward to having a quiet weekend, but we would love to hear from you!

HOME!!!!

2005-09-17T11:50:00.000-04:00

Miraculously, Matthew's counts shot up overnight and he was released this a.m. More news later - too much to do and enjoy!!

Still here

2005-09-15T21:40:00.000-04:00

Hospital's getting old right about now. On the positive side, Matthew's feeling good. Fever has been normal (or close to that) since yesterday. On the negative side, his blood counts are still low and they're not going to release him (us) until his counts recover (which doesn't look like it's going to happen so soon). Today, our friend Ellen E. came to visit, bringing Matthew's backpack and my computer. I think I got the better end of the deal, since I'm doing email right now and Matthew's working on formal geometry. He's learning about all the various permutations on if-then statements and is coming up with lots of good examples (e.g., If my blood counts go up, then we get to go home before the weekend. If my blood counts don't go up...)

Back in the Hospital :(

2005-09-14T10:08:00.000-04:00

Well, as you can see, our lives are definitely up and down from day to day - the past few days were up; right now, we're down.

I'm writing this from Hopkins, where Matthew was admitted yesterday for fever. This was not an unexpected development, as we knew his white count was very low from chemo the previous week and he was at high risk for infection. Still, it's always a drag to end up here - particularly when he had really hoped to be back at school this week. At least this time around, we've got a private room on the teen floor. There's a teen lounge with a pool table and various electronic diversions, so when Matthew gets a bit more energy, he'll have something to do. I also brought his guitar, but his throat is too sore to sing. Overall, though, he's feeling ok.

Jon's home taking care of Danny. We are grateful to our wonderful friends and neighbors for stepping in at a moment's notice to make sure Danny is cared for (not to mention Maggie & Jovite). We will be in the hospital until Matthew's temperature and white count return to normal. I'll keep you posted...

Quick Update

2005-09-12T21:59:00.000-04:00

Just a quick note to say Matthew's doing fine. We enjoyed an active, fun-filled weekend that included watching Danny's soccer team play their first game of the season (with coach Jon and assistant coach Matthew standing on the sidelines), canoeing/kayaking on the canal, and lots of music (Silver Spring Jazz Festival and Takoma Park Folk Festival).

This is the week where Matthew's blood counts are low, so we're keeping a close eye on him. Jon took him to Hopkins today to have his blood checked and he needs to return on Thursday, but hopefully Matthew can attend partial school for the remainder of the week.

Home from the Hospital

2005-09-08T22:48:00.000-04:00

Got home this afternoon after another three-day round of inpatient chemo. Happily this one was easy and quick. Easy roommates. Easy chemo. Matthew handled everything like a pro. He brought his guitar along and had several "gigs" (as he put it). Late into the night on Tuesday, he played for various visitors and the nighttime cleaning crew. During the day on Wednesday, he set up in the kitchen and played for the nurses and doctors on their rounds. Later in the day, he held a mini-concert by request in the children's playroom. Only problem was that the under-5 set didn't quite share Matthew's musical horizons. When asked what "artists" they listen to, the kids looked at him blankly. Finally, Matthew sang & played the Barney theme - something they recognized - and the kids all applauded.

Matthew seems to have no problem resuming normal life once he gets home. He walked in the door, played guitar for a while, then headed to a friend's house. As for me, I'm always disoriented after spending extended time in the hospital and it takes me a while to "re-enter." The hardest part isn't the lack of material comfort (sleeping in a chair, lack of space, not having a private bathroom), it's the loss of control and the endless waiting - waiting for a bed to open up so you can move into a room, waiting for the chemo to be sent up from the pharmacy, waiting for the doctors to write up the discharge orders, waiting for the nurses to disconnect the IV so we can go home. Everything takes three times longer than you expect - and the stress of sitting & doing nothing but waiting is exhausting.

Since Our Last Update

2005-09-03T23:37:00.000-04:00

It's been six weeks since our last email update. At that time, we had just learned that we would not be going to Boston in July for radiation as planned, and that Matthew would need additional chemotherapy to put the tumor back into remission. Let me fill you in on what's been happening since then...

How's he feeling? First, and most importantly, Matthew is feeling great these days. He has been back in chemotherapy since July 21 and is now in the middle of the second cycle. Each cycle lasts approximately 4 weeks. We've been driving to Baltimore once a week for outpatient treatment. On the third week of each cycle, he gets hospitalized for three days of inpatient treatment. He is receiving a different combination of chemo drugs than before; yet mercifully he is tolerating the treatment with practically no discomfort or side effects.

The only problem he has experienced is that these drugs have more of an immunsuppressive effect, which means that his blood counts go down and he is at increased risk for fever & infection. At one point last month, he developed a fever and needed to be hospitalized for nearly a week. Obviously this was a major drag and we're told it is likely to happen with each chemo cycle. At least next time, we'll know the drill.

How are the rest of us doing?: Despite the tough news this summer and the major upset in our plans, we tried very hard to enjoy the remainder of the summer. Matthew qualified to swim for his team in the Divisionals Meet. We enjoyed a great Nationals' game. We escaped for a long weekend to the Homestead Resort for some R&R, fishing & horseback riding. We had nice visits with our cousin from Connecticut end and our former au pair from Denmark. Danny attended soccer camp and also spent a week in Philadelphia with Uncle Carl, Aunt Julie and his beloved Cousin Emily.

The highlight, however, was our 5-day getaway last week to Woods Hole, Mass. , where we usually go each summer to visit Jon's parents. We enjoyed perfect New England summer weather. We went to the beach & relaxed. We went fishing one day, caught loads of bluefish & fluke, and enjoyed a major fish dinner with friends. The trip was capped off by a once-in-a-lifetime visit to Fenway Park, where Cousin Josh Klevens arranged for us to receive VIP treatment. We were allowed on the field and in the dugout - and the kids (major Red Sox fans) were escorted back into the private area to meet Johnny Damon (that's him in the photo!), Trot Nixon, and many of their other favorite players. We then watched the Sox beat the Tigers 9-8, from spectacular skybox seats. Danny had the best line of the evening, as he turned to me and said, "Mom, can it get any better?"

This past Tuesday, Danny started fourth grade and Matthew attended his first day of high school. Our school (JDS) continues to support us in every way. They have arranged things so that Matthew can take a shortened schedule (Geometry, English, World History, Music and Study Hall). He will attend class as much as possible this semester, with Montgomery County providing home schooling during those periods when he is at home.

What's the plan? Our recent experience tells us not to put too much faith in long-term plans. However, the tentative plan is that Matthew will undergo about six more weeks of the current chemo regimen, which will bring us to mid-October. Hopefully the tumor will be in remission at that point and he will be ready to receive high-dose chemo with autologous stem cell rescue. This requires transfusing his own stem cells back into his body. (His stem cells have already been reserved for this purpose.) This treatment is pretty intensive and will require him to be in the hospital for at least a solid month. Sometime after that (December? January?), it is likely that we will bring him to Boston for radiation treatment.

What help do we need? We are accepting food once again. It really helps to have a prepared dinner ready on those days when we are gone all day in Baltimore receiving outpatient treatment, as well as during those extended periods when Matthew is inpatient and Jon & Danny are home alone. All food is being coordinated by Carol Feder, who can be reached at feder@comcast.net. I should warn you that we are working with a nutritionist to provide Matthew with a special, healthy diet, so there are some restrictions as to what he can and can't eat, but it's not all that complicated and Carol can explain it to you.

Other than asking for food, we're doing ok for now. The tough part for us is no doubt coming up later in the fall when Matthew will require more extensive hospitalization and our family will be physically separated from one another. We'll definitely need more support then and will ask for help as that time approaches.

Finally, just want to thank you again for keeping us in your thoughts & prayers. We look forward to hearing from you. (You can send us a personal email by clicking on one of the links listed above - or you can sign our guestbook.)

Welcome to Our New Blog Site

2005-09-03T11:00:00.000-04:00

Dear Family & Friends:

We're trying out this blog as an experiment - in the hope that it will help us stay better connected with all of you. Our email distribution list has grown to the point where it has become a little unwieldy. (The server thinks we're sending out spam!) Moreover, there have been times when I've wanted to let you know what's going on, but didn't have the energy to compose a major email message. Hopefully this format will allow us to post a running update of how Matthew and the rest of the family are doing - and allow you to check in with us periodically at your convenience.