Chase’s New Glasses
Last week, 5-year-old Ambassador Chase got glasses. His mom, Ellie, shares the details of their eventful trip to the eye doctor, the ensuing diagnosis, and how it feels to know that Chase’s vision problems are a direct result of the treatment he needed to save his life.
Chase examines a popsicle through his new glasses.
And Mom, I’ll Love You Always
We talk a lot about the parents of children with cancer, but they’re not the only ones whose roles take on new meaning when their child is diagnosed. Ambassador Chase’s mom, Ellie, gives thanks to her mom, Chase’s “Grammie,” for the way she’s loved and supported their whole family through childhood cancer and all of life’s ups and downs.
As a mother, from the first moment you hold your child — no, from the first moments you know they’re expected — you seek to protect them. You carry them and love them and do everything you can from first breath to stand between them and the hurt and pain in the world.
From Chase’s Family to You: A Big Thank You Before the Big Shave
A few days ago, Ambassador Chase’s big brother, Aidan, asked you to give on his head. (Read all about it!) In a mere 24 hours, you blew his $1,000 goal out of the water! But the brothers are not done yet. They’ve set their sights higher — to $5,000 for childhood cancer research. Their mom, Ellie, has something to say to you incredible people.
Brothers Karsten, Aidan and Chase have something important to tell you.
Help Aidan reach $5,000! Donate on his shavee page >
Tomorrow, Aidan shaves his head, and this week has pushed me to the edge of tears many times because of you.
Aidan asked for $1,000 and you’ve opened your hearts and lives and given him over $3,000!
‘Now I Am a Little Like Chase’: Aidan Gears Up to Go Bald for His Brother
Aidan is Ambassador Chase’s brother, and he’s doing something amazing — he’s shaving his head to support his best buddy. Their mom, Ellie, talks about Aidan’s decision to go bald and how Chase’s cancer journey has affected his big brother. (We’ve got an exciting update — you helped Aidan raise more than $3,000! And he’s still going strong. Read their mom’s thank you letter to all of you.)
Help Aidan reach his $1,000 goal! Donate on his shavee page >
12 months and five days.
That’s all the time between them — my first boy and his surprise brother.
Through the years they’ve been mortal enemies and best friends and sometimes both within a matter of seconds. They played cars together and sword-fought across the whole house and back. They used to splash in the rain on the tiny condo porch and squeal in delight.
And one morning, while he lay in his bed, Aidan watched us surround his brother and carry him out.
Chase’s Good News
The last three days were big ones in the life of Ambassador Chase. He knew the MRI was coming, and he was scared. And when it was over, he had to wait to find out if his cancer had returned. His mom, Ellie, shares these words.
Read the last update on Chase >
Monday, January 19. The sun was only hinting pink when I felt another presence on the edge of the living room. This is what he does, my early-rising boy … He wakes before it’s light, tip-toes out to wherever a parent can be found, and stands quietly, thumb in mouth, waiting for someone to see him and call him into the light.Still rumpled and rosy from sleep, mismatched in his Lightning McQueen bottoms and a shirt that announces “I fight cancer. What’s your superpower?”, Chase jumped onto the couch and snuggled close. His talk turned to the subject that had been plaguing him for about a week now: the upcoming MRI.
Meet Chase
Chase loves baseball. So when he was diagnosed with an atypical teratoid rhabdoid tumor at just 2 years old, his parents used terms from his favorite sport to explain something no child should need to know — cancer.
An Update on Chase
Three months ago we learned that, after a year and a half of no evidence of disease, Chase’s latest MRI showed new growths. Chase, who turns 5 on Friday, went for another MRI yesterday. His mom wrote this update after hearing the results. Learn more about Chase.
As they await the MRI results, Chase watches his dad assemble a Transformer.
Today, I watched my loving husband carry my darling son up into the structure as he spoke calmly and quietly, and Chase, red-faced and teary, clung to him and cried that he couldn’t — just couldn’t — do this right now.
Chase’s Childhood Cancer Story [VIDEO]
Chase was 2 ½ years old when he was diagnosed with ATRT, a rare and deadly pediatric brain tumor. With limited treatment options available, Chase’s family moved forward with what they believed to be the best shot.
Chase’s Latest MRI
After 14 months of fighting an aggressive pediatric brain cancer called atypical teratoid rhabdoid tumor (ATRT), Chase was in remission. He finished chemo last October and finally had his port removed in June. Then, last month, Chase’s family received some unwelcome news. His mom, Ellie, shares this update.
Chase in the clinic.
But. How that one little word changes the tone. Chase’s attending neuro-oncologist’s voice never wavered as he went on to tell us that for the first time since a January Thursday in 2013, Chase’s MRI is not clear.
There are several small growths in and around the original tumor site.
They were not there three months ago.
Closing the Chemo Chapter: Chase Has His Port Removed
Two years ago, at the start of his childhood cancer treatment, Chase had a port implanted under the skin of his chest as an entryway for chemotherapy, medications, and nourishment. Last month, he had it removed — a milestone for any child with cancer, but especially for one who beat the odds of a highly fatal brain tumor diagnosis. His mom explains what the presence of this device has come to mean.
Chase with a catheter in his port.
We took a moment to absorb the words Chase’s attending doctor was speaking. Even with the concern of relapse and all that comes with an atypical teratoid rhabdoid tumor (ATRT) diagnosis, the port could and should be removed.
This small piece of foreign material currently embedded in Chase’s chest has somehow come to both symbolize and encapsulate the last two years.
It was the first thing in and will be the last thing out. We’ve had it placed, and replaced, and replaced again and again. We’ve fought to keep it, repair it, and protect it. We became trained and comfortable in the procedures to sterilize it and triage when there was a problem.
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