I finally have a name for the monster that took my baby from me. Gliosarcoma. A short name for such a destructive, menacing beast. The average age of onset is 53 years. It usually strikes middle-aged males. Only 8% of all brain tumors are in the “glioma” family, and only 2.1% of that group are gliosarcomas. Very rare. Very deadly. So how did this cancer find my baby? According to the statistics, we’d have a better chance of winning the lottery.
Oddly enough, having this information brings me some peace. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve once again been bothered by the thought that we gave up too soon. I watched the movie My Sister’s Keeper. That mother would stop at nothing to keep her daughter alive. Should I have been like that? In my heart, I have known that Brandon and I made the right choice. But my head keeps tormenting me. When I was finally able to see in black and white what had happened to Ian, when I could read what the doctors wrote about his diagnosis and prognosis, it finally hit me – our sweet boy had absolutely no chance. And rather than enduring more surgery and possibly terrible pain, allowing his little body to be battered more and more only to delay the inevitable…rather than letting him pass away surrounded by doctors and strangers during yet another medical procedure, our choice allowed Ian to pass away peacefully. Quietly. In the arms of his mommy and daddy, surrounded by love. No doctors or nurses in the room – just the two people who love him the most. And I know that we made the most compassionate and unselfish choice we could have made.
I feel stronger knowing that we did right by our son. I feel closer and closer to accepting the way life is now and moving forward. I guess knowledge truly is power.
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Strong you are!!!! You will never fully believe you did the right thing because grief will always get the best of you. I still question our actions with Cooper. Although Cooper passed away on his own, I always wonder if there was something we could have done to get his heart to start beating again.
Just like Ian, Cooper passed away in my arms. I was the last person to hold him right before he left. He looked into my eyes and just slipped away. My brave little man!
I am so glad to hear that you are recognizing how strong you are becoming, and I know Ian is super proud of you!