Jim and I were sitting on the porch Saturday evening to admire the sunset as a pair of young ladies came down for a photoshoot. Harmless enough at first.
The first model was tame. Simple poses in her tiny pink cheeky bikini. Then her friend took a turn and my word this woman was almost naked. She put her backside toward the camera, stuck her behind out and lifted her cut up t-shirt to reveal her ENTIRE HINEY.
Just like that. We became parents of a pediatric cancer patient. Although, we wouldn’t have that diagnosis for a little over 24 hours. And it would take a few days to hear the exact type of malignancy we were dealing with.
It’s weird to think that in 2006 there weren’t a ton of options for a 2-year-old with a brain tumor. Surgery, of course. They didn’t think chemo was the way to go, but radiation had not really been done on a child as young as Bo. We consented to being part of a study. They were trying targeted radiation. This means they wouldn’t radiate his entire toddler brain, just the offensive spot. Before that could even start, the stupid thing started to come back.
I have never been a Taylor Swift fan. It’s not because I wouldn’t like to be or because I don’t like her music. I think she
