September

The beginning of September, Henry was still feeling well. He continued on TPN, and continued to eat and gain weight.

 

 We went to clinic, and had more labs drawn, hoping for better news.

 You started kindergarten. Henry missed you so much when you were at school. He would beg for us to go pick you up early.

 In the beginning of September, we had a long talk with the immunologist. She said that Henry had no immune system. That he didn't even have cells starting to make B or T cells. She said, again, that he had some of the worst labs she had ever seen. Henry had no defense for bacterial or viral infections. His body couldn't fight even a small infection or cold. The chemotherapy that killed the cancer in his body, also killed his immune system. She had very little hope that his immune system would ever recover.

With this information, seeing Henry not get better, and knowing that he started to hate going to clinic, dad and I decided that we were done going to the hospital. We were done poking Henry for labs and giving him medicine that he didn't like. We talked to the doctors and decided that it was time to be done trying to fix Henry, because he wasn't "fixable".  Rather, we would live fully the last moments we had with him.

I'll admit there was relief with this choice. We let him play in dirt, go to busy places, even eat Cheetos in the bathtub.

While we weren't officially on hospice yet, dad and I knew Henry would be there soon. So, dad and I both took leaves from our jobs and tried to make as many memories as possible as a family. You, dad and Henry flew on a small airplane.

We enjoyed the times he felt good enough to ride his bike.

 Or run down hills.

He loved to swing.

You two danced in the fountains.

Since Henry loved fire stations, we went to as many new ones as we could.

And, well, Henry stayed super. He was our Super Henry.