treated, which was a relief, but there
was an overwhelming desperation to it
all. It was like we, too, were in a fight
and we were just desperately swinging
and missing, swinging and missing,
knowing that we were going to take a
beating, and yet knowing even deeper
down that giving up wasn’t an option.
The hardest part of all was knowing
it was Luke in the ring and not one
of us. Both of us would have willingly
taken his place, but we couldn’t. We
would just have to keep swinging in
the hope that somehow we could at
least protect him from any outside
threats that could very well overwhelm
him in this fight. The treatment was
incessant – a continuous stream of
poison designed to give him the best
possible chance of recovery. We took
turns by his side and distracted him
as best we could from the stark reality
of the ward. This was not a fun place
to be; it was a place where young
kids came to try to survive, to put up
their own fights for life. It was filled
with fear, screams, crying, pain and
sadness. There was the occasional
muted laughter, but that was the
exception. A paediatric oncology ward
is a morbid place to be.
The first six months were intense
and we spent a lot of our time at the
hospital. We were busy, very busy. If
we weren’t at the hospital with Luke,
then we were trying to unwind and
catch up on lost sleep at home, and
spend the best possible quality time
with Jessica, who was also reeling from
all that was happening. She was old
enough to understand that her brother
was very sick and that things at home
were going to be quite different. She
really wanted to be with him, but
because of the high risk of infection,
the closest she came in those early
days was watching him through a
small glass window in the ward door.
Facing the future
We are exceptionally blessed in
that Luke has responded well to the
treatment and progressed (mostly)
according to plan through his two-
year chemotherapy treatment. But it
has been an uphill battle every step of
the way. Everything you hear of when
people describe cancer treatment –
the pain, the nausea and vomiting,
the mood swings, the hair loss – all
happened to Luke. But we’ll take all of
that as long as we can keep him.
It’s been an overwhelming journey
so far and, to be honest, being in Hong
Kong has been a blessing in disguise.
The sense of love and charity from
our community has been incredible.
Our friends kept us fed when we
couldn’t find the time or energy to
do it ourselves, and they usually had
a dry shoulder to cry on, too. And
technically speaking, we think the
medical treatment here in Hong
Kong has been second to none, albeit
without the empathy we might expect
from some of our own home countries!
Luke is still receiving daily doses of
oral chemotherapy, but his treatment
should be complete by the time you
read this. He is a fighter and he is
already a champion, and he will beat
this disease. When we look back at
the 28th of January, 2013, it seems
like a lifetime ago; but, really, it’s only
been just over two years. We’ve had
a chance to cherish every moment of
Luke’s brave life with our beautiful
Jessica. Now we want to live happily
ever after again.
Paying it forward
Along Luke’s journey we’ve used all
sorts of analogies to best describe
what we are going through. We’ve
spoken of the boxer in the ring, the
bag of nice and not-so-nice jellybeans,
the mountain that these kids have to
climb, the super-typhoon that passes
us by. These are all a partial glimpse
of Luke’s journey and our lives. And
we’ve shared as much as we could
of his battles on our Facebook page
Luke). If you ever hear of anyone who
finds themselves in a similar situation,
then please send them to the page and
encourage them to contact us. When
Suzanne Goodwin Photography
February 2015
35
