Jordan’s Journey

Girl and the Internet

The first week of chemo is usually no sweat. But a few weeks in and she starts to feel it. She’s been achy and nauseous and generally uncomfortable today. She stayed home from school and napped a lot. When she speaks to me, she whines, but the whines are interspersed with hugs in which she leans in to me and thanks me for asking how she is.

Jordan, age 9 1/2 in April

She’s very excited today because she’s been invited to interview with a video crew doing a piece for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. This morning she asked her mom about it. She wanted to know what questions she might be asked. Jeanette helped her recall her experiences.

Sometimes, Jordan’s memory is fuzzy. For instance, when we asked her about her first symptoms, she recalls losing power in her legs. We reminded her that she was symptomatic much earlier than that. We asker her if she remembered when she got the headaches so bad, or when she had trouble remembering things at school.

She squinted her eyes and thought for a minute, then shook her head.

It’s okay, we told her. “We can remember that part for you.”

Jordan Portrait

I am strong.
I am temperamental.
I am blossoming.
I am confident.
I am apt to laugh.
I am prone to indulge in sweets.
I am transfixed by music.
I am loving school.
I am perplexed by my brother
(and sometimes my mom).
I am a princess, and a young lady, and still just a girl.
I am funny and profound
– very often dizzyingly so.
I am smart.
I am impatient.
I am imaginative.
I am my own self.
I am healthy.

I am kicking cancer’s butt.


PS: I ran this by Jordan and she said, “that’s every bit me.”

Watching Together

Jordan had a nice, enjoyable break from chemo. It coincided with her spring break at school. She produced art, visited with friends and lounged lazily around the house. Monday she starts again.

Just Lounging

She’s not the same little girl. She’s growing up in every way. It’s wonderful to watch her blossom, especially given all that she’s overcome. Cancer hasn’t stopped her. And as she becomes a young lady, I revel in her accomplishments while waxing nostalgically about her earlier years. It’s hard not to look forward to what she’ll do tomorrow.

She and Me

I board a plane. I trek to a hotel. Do a meeting. Grab a meal. Board another plane. Then I come home. And waiting for me is this little angel with a devilish spirit. She’s the first to grab me around the waist and exclaim how much she missed me. She never lets me catch a breath. Still holding my bags, standing in the doorway, she plots an agenda for us. She croons about how glad she is that I’m home.

The same day, she has endured a dose of chemo and practiced her physical therapy. I gripe and sulk about sitting on a plane in the dry, dry air at 35,000 feet. She seldom gripes about fighting for her life.