Last month, Asa celebrated his third birthday. On the
same day, he started to write. He didn’t write much -- the words were dog and van. But if you saw him write them, you’d notice the pleasure he
took in it -- in the alchemy of turning letters into living, moving things.
A little over a year ago, when his second birthday was
approaching, he’d had a massive relapse. A week later he had a Hickman line
inserted -- a sort of artificial umbilicus that provides easy access to the
bloodstream -- in preparation for chemo. And although the chemo treatment
lasted only four months, the line was left in, just in case more chemo, or radiation therapy, were called for.
Three weeks ago he had his Hickman line removed. The
operation was carried out at Great Ormond Street Hospital, and it was fast. In
a matter of hours we were on our way home again, and our little boy was no
longer trailing rubber piping.
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| Naming the numbers on the hospital gown. 15 minutes later the wiggly was whipped out. |
The absence of the Hickman line (or ‘wiggly’ as it’s
often called) means Asa can start to do some things that children often enjoy,
that have been off-limits to him for the last year. Like swimming. Or just
splashing around in the bathtub. (The wiggly is vulnerable to infection, and
has to be kept dry.)
And his dad doesn’t have to worry so much any more
when he’s rough-housing.
More significantly, the doctors’ decision to remove
the wiggly reflects some confidence that he may remain stable for a while.
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| A play therapist models breathing gas through a face mask before Asa’s most recent exam under anaesthetic. |
The treatments Asa’s receiving now -- cryo and laser therapy -- are largely succeeding in keeping the
tumours under control. Every three weeks, when he goes under anaesthetic, the
doctors see new areas of activity; but for the past few months they have been
small, and in parts of the eye that are easily accessible to treatment.
