It's OK. She's fine. (Is there a bar car on this train?)

As mom of a preschooler with cancer, I speak in blurbs of bullshit:

"She's got a 90% chance at being cured. Can't get much better than that!"

"If she still had hair, you wouldn't even know she has cancer! She's almost unaffected by it all."

"The worst of the chemo, the pain, and the fear?  Over."

"It's all gone so much better than we anticipated."

"We're rounding the corner." "...nearing the summit....""...can see the finish line."

"We know how lucky we are."

"She's fine."

I do mean them all. We are two weeks from entering the two-year-long Maintenance phase of treatment. I'm viewing it as Home Free--with a few boulder-size grains of salt: Each day she'll take poison pills. One week a month she'll take steroids. One day a month (or maybe a few days in a row) she'll get the Mega-Chemo Dose injected into her spine. But her immune system should remain stable-ish.

That sounds horrible, but if you ask me about it, you'll get the blurb.

"Are you kidding? Compared this first phase, that's cake. A vacation, even!" 

And remember, anyway:

"She's fine!"  

Correspondingly, so am I! Emotionally on track!

Annnnnd here comes the three-car bullet train:

Engine Car Thursday:
I chatted with a new acquaintance about Aria. He leaned in, all-knowing.

"Just be careful. A good friend of mine always wishes he'd been more careful. His 7-year-old had leukemia. He took her camping. She ended up with pneumonia and died."

WHAT?! No, I don't have all the details. No, it doesn't matter really. It happens, I know that. But WTF, dude. I need to sleep. That's not helping.

Freight Car Friday:
Til now, our understanding of Aria's "ANC" level (blah blah blah cancer, blood tests) has been:

"Low ANC Bad. Stay home. High ANC Good! Play!"

This past month, Aria's ANC has been way way (way) up. Like 3500 instead of 500.

We've been told the "safe" level is 2000+. So, you know, 3500 should be awesome.

Maybe.

Kevin received reassurance from our trio of doctors (who are sometimes be referred to as "Hurried" "Vague" and "Jargon") but Kevin is still worried.

FIRST, I belittled his concern (bad wife). THEN, I googled to confirm I was right. And, well, shit. Every. Single. Result was, in summary: high ANC ---> relapse.

Crater-size caveat: these studies discuss high ANC during the Maintenance phase, which we have not yet entered. But the closer we get, the higher her levels seem to go.

Is this at all relevant? Expected? Are we being kept on The Protocol because it's best for the Study, or because it's best for the Aria?

We've had zero problems to date, so I'm deep in Cancer is Easy Land. That's when people like me get blind-sided.

So, I will be meeting with the doctor on Monday. He just doesn't know it yet.

And Saturday's caboose:
The Make A Wish people came to our house today. They scheduled a free Disney Vacation for our family.

I used to think of that charity as offering a last wish, a dying wish. A last meal. I've been pretty good at trying not to think that.

Until Thursday. And Friday. And now here are the volunteers at my door, smiling with adoration at Aria's fuzzy little skull.

Aria stated her wish to go to Disney (because 4-year-olds don't know they should be picking Paris, Bali, or to meet Chris Hemsworth in his Thor costume).

As for Lyric, when heard the Wish Team was coming this morning, she said, with all the enthusiasm, innocence, and personal satisfaction a six-year-old can offer:

"ARIA! Just ask them to make you NOT SICK anymore!!!! They have to grant your wish, right?!"

Aria just looked at her big sister, then at me. Neither of us had the energy to explain. Fake princesses and giant mice, here we come.