Reflections on Faith &
Life for the Years of Winter…
Our grandson, Joe, was
diagnosed with liver cancer when he was 15 months old. The pediatrician in
Mason City, IA, where we lived, said, “I was just at a conference where the
head of pediatric oncology at Children’s Hospital at University of Iowa gave a
talk. I was really impressed with her. I’m going to call down there.”
He did. Even though Sue O’Dorisio,
MD, PhD, was head of the department, just by chance, and probably because
everyone else had gone home, she answered the phone. “Bring him down right now,”
she said.
So Katie and Patrick left his
four year old sister with us, and got into their car and drove 175 miles and
arrived at the hospital in the middle of the night. By rules of the hospital,
Dr. O’Dorisio was Joe’s personal physician now, just because she was the first
contact. She was with them every step of the way through Joe’s long, long year
of chemo and surgeries that put him in harm’s way and so near death so many
times. [1]
Yesterday, Katie called
the flower shop in Iowa City to have flowers delivered to Dr. O. The flower woman
asked what should go on the card. Katie said, “Joe Kennedy started college.”
There was a long pause,
and the woman said, “You’ve called here a lot over the years.” “Yes,” said
Katie, I sent Dr. O’Dorisio flowers when the cards said, “Joe Kennedy started
kindergarten,” and “Joe Kennedy started first grade,” and “Joe Kennedy started
high school,” and “Joe Kennedy is 18.”
“I know,” the flower lady
said, “Each time you ordered those flowers, you cried.” “Yes,” said Katie. The
flower lady said, “I want you to know, each time, I cried, too.”
John Robert McFarland
I suppose Joe was the only
kid at the hospital who had a grandpa as one of his regular companions. His
mother was always with him, but his father had to work, to keep the
insurance going, and his sister was too little, and Grandma had to take care of
Brigid when Joe was in the hospital, so I was fairly often the one who
accompanied Joe and Katie to the hospital, where I stayed nights, when I didn’t
stay all night at the hospital, at the Ronald McDonald House. A couple of years
after Joe’s time there, we were back in Iowa City at the wonderful Dance
Marathon, where UIA students raise millions every year to help kids at the
hospital. There were huge throngs everywhere, but as I was pushing through one
of them, a woman I didn’t even recognize looked at me and said, “Hi, Joe’s
grandpa.” She didn’t know my name, but she knew Joe, and she knew my role. That
was one of my neatest moments ever.
1] You can read about this
more in the second edition of my book, Now
That I Have Cancer, I Am Whole: Reflections on Life and Healing for Cancer
Patients and Those Who Love Them. It’s published by AndrewsMcMeel.
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