My dear league of Colleagues, I wanted to share this wonderful news: Misha (child of Marjorie Rebekah Otto grandchild of . . . and great grandchild of Marge and Phil Philbrook) is doing really well, and as of Friday Nov 11, he is done with cancer treatment. Thank you all for your support, prayers and energy in the two years since his diagnosis. See Bekah's reflections below and Raphi's beautiful words and pictures at this link. Raphi's update with pics Raphi's update with pics <https://www.notion.so/Good-News-21079a9b584c4333994ab81dbc3b473a> from M. Rebekah Otto We’re done I have always been a “words” person. If I am not talking, listening, reading, or writing, I would rather be talking, listening, reading, or writing. Then cancer came, and my words failed. They failed to protect my baby. They could not save him, only his doctors and his treatment would. I felt so powerless. After weeks of unexplained fevers and doctors dodging appointments because of COVID, our pediatrician finally examined him and saw that Misha had small red dots on his stomach and legs, petechiae, a sign of low platelets. He ordered labs. After dinner, our pediatrician called and said Misha’s blood labs are abnormal. Something is suppressing the bone marrow. It might be an unusual infection or it might be leukemia. Misha and I were sent to the emergency room immediately for more testing. When we got admitted to the hospital that night, the first team of residents told me, “it’s not a slam dunk” for a leukemia diagnosis. Wow! What a choice of words. They meant that the labs weren’t completely indicative, and they needed to do more testing. Then in the middle of the night a chatty nurse was taking Misha’s vitals and checking on me. I could not admit to myself that my baby probably had cancer. She said, “If it is leukemia, it will be a hard few years. You will all get through it, and then you will know that you can do anything.” Oh, what wisdom. In the weeks and months after diagnosis, we were terrified and treatment was its most intense. He had frequent procedures with sedation. He had a port placed in his chest. His nurses had to stick a needle in it to give him chemo. He had multiple blood transfusions. His meds made him put on a lot of weight, and he lost his hair. He didn’t look like himself anymore. After about nine months, we graduated to maintenance, with mostly at-home meds, and it felt manageable. It was full of blood draws and meds, learning new words like ANC and 6mp and Septra. Most of the time has been deeply normal: playdates, soccer practice, tantrums, TV, school. Somewhere in there we got COVID, went camping, moved, made new friends, loved each other, argued, watched the bears wrestle at the zoo, ate a lot of noodles. Cancer has been a fog, dangerous and unknown. I couldn’t see beyond it. I haven’t wanted to start writing about this journey because it hasn’t been over. I haven’t known how our cancer story ends, but now it has been a little more than two years. We are done with treatment today. Our baby has been in cancer treatment for half of his life, and I don’t have words for how happy I am that it’s over and he’s made it. 11/11/2022 Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony. Mahatma Gandhi