Letters to Andrew: You Have Cancer

The events of June 2, 2014

Dear Andrew,

     "Come here son. Sit up in my lap little man. Andrew, you have cancer. It is called leukemia" I will never forget that moment. You hugged me tight and just cried. You didn't really know what any of it meant but you knew cancer wasn't good and you knew by the way everything was happening throughout the day that something was right.  In that moment you were broken and afraid. All I wanted to do in that moment was to take all your fear away. Even I couldn't imagine just what would be in store for your future. However, I knew that you would be in a fight for your life and the only way to face it was for you to become the man you had to become. I praise God that his work of grace in your life had already begun and you were seemingly already prepared for this battle. Our first 30 minutes of so together after we received your diagnosis will forever be cherished in my memory and heart. There is a bond that men develop when they go through fire of trials together. That day and in those brief moments you became something other than a son to me. There is nothing more special to me than you being my son. However, we became brothers at arms together that day. We formed the bond of men locked together in the arena of battle giving to one another their lives. This is how it happened.
   
    I was in the old field house working at Coach Pickens' old desk when momma text me about your blood test needing to be looked at some more. I am from Memphis and grew up in the shadows of St. Jude hospital. I have heard the stories of leukemia my entire life. I was nervous immediately but I pressed on. When momma called and said we had to take you to Blair Batson for more blood work I knew immediately in my gut why they were wanting more test. I told her to refuse to leave without the Dr telling her if they were testing for leukemia. She called me back and my deepest fear was confirmed. I made my way to the new field house and walked up the tunnel to Coach Pickens' office. I called him in and tried to tell him what was going on.  I'll be frank with you, I couldn't speak through my tears and anguish. I was having such a hard time breathing that he was first afraid that I was having a heart attack. He was the first I told that you may have leukemia. I praise God that he gave me that moment with Pickens to prepare me to function for the rest of the day. I don't think I would have been willing to share it with anyone else at that point but him and I needed to work through it in order to be there for you. So, I left there for the hospital and had that long drive to decide how I would tell you. On this drive after a lot of prayer I was convinced that my instincts were the way to go. To treat you as the little man that you would need to become in order to face this fight. I made up my mind that I would be direct with you. I wouldn't allow people to sugar coat it nor to lie to you about what was wrong. And I would not allow anyone else to tell you but me. So, when the time came I sat you in my lap and told you.

    I share that with you to give you the back story for our first thirty minutes together. The nurse came to take you for X-rays. Today, momma goes with you to almost all of your tests. If you can remember those first days and weeks, then you'll recall that it was me that went with you. We were in this battle together. She put you in a wheelchair and bless her heart. She was so sweet and was trying to be so encouraging. And she was. But you and I were both silent. We looked each other directly in the eyes and just nodded. I kept my hand on your shoulder most of the way but we didn't talk. We had to wait for the X-Ray and whatever test they were running. You were so angry and afraid. You glanced ever so often into my eyes. We would share truth with one another in those moments too deep for words. Your knuckles were completely white from gripping the arms of the wheelchair so tightly. Your entire body was so tense and your breathing so short that I was starting to worry about you passing out from the stress. The nurse came to take you back and away from me for the first time in this process and my breathe was taken away. But then it happened, it was like Rocky taking that last punch before having enough! Your entire body relaxed. You let go of the wheelchair arms and began to breathe. She asked you if you were ready go with her? You simply looked up and said, ok. When you came back out we looked each other in the eyes again. We spoke for the first time. I asked you, "are you alright?" You nodded yes. I followed up with, "are you sure? are you good?" You said, "yes." The nurse returned to get us and I looked at you and said, "Let's Go!"

    Son, this is the moment I knew that God was doing a work in you that was beyond my understanding. In less than hour you had become a man of strength and courage that I couldn't have even dreamed of in that moment. You went from being my "lit'l man" to being a true Lit'l Man. You were eight years old and already more of a man than I had ever dreamed of for myself. You amaze me and continue to amaze me. I praise God for all that he has done in you and for you. I love you. Keep fighting! Don't give up! Fight!

In Christ,
Daddy