Jordan’s Journey

Jordan’s Feet - A Testament

She’s had a good week — still flittering on the news of her MRI. She won a Spotlight award at school for her improved academic progress and her good attitude. Chemo sapped her energy early in the week, but she’s back in full swing for the weekend.

We ride together in my Jeep. She sits shotgun. The stereo blasts 70’s classics, most of which we ignore as ambient background. She chatters incessantly; something about a trip to the mall, then on to a peacock named Barney.

The music changes and we hear the first tinkling chords of Dennis DeYoung’s piano on Styx’s “Come Sail Away.” Jordan cocks her head and ponders the descant for a moment. She tells me how much she likes the piano playing. I adjust the volume, partly to reconnect with my youth and (honestly) partly to drown out her monologue. It is to no avail. When DeYoung’s vocal begins, she speaks loud enough to compete with the music. (more…)

Jordan treats herself to a giant hot chocolate with ample whipped cream

Her first reaction was to tell everyone. “My cancer is smaller,” she revealed with a mature insouciance. Occasionally, she’d cock her mouth sideways to smile playfully, knowing the response she’d receive from her audience. The acclaim continues to pour in. With each new accolade she is the more imperturbable. She has a charming poise, a certain manner as if to say, “of course, I’m kicking its butt!”
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Post MRI

She just wanted to get out of the hospital. An hour later, she would learn that she was making progress on her journey. She changed her expression.

 

For the first time since Jordan began her journey more than five years ago, we have cause to celebrate. Her MRI scans today revealed noticeable reduction in the size of the tumors. Her doctor was elated. So were we. She will be sticking with this drug protocol for the near future, hoping for further improvements in her condition.

As if that were not enough to celebrate, the way Jordan handled herself today was phenomenal. She made no fuss about getting accessed. She cooperated with everyone.

As we left the hospital she called out to one of the nurses who knows her well, “I really am kicking cancer’s butt!”

Jordan and Luc help Jeanette celebrate Mother’s Day

Tomorrow, Jordan goes in for a full MRI. It’s been about three months, and it’s time to see if we’re making progress. It’s time to look in on the disease.

We’re all a bit jumpy. These procedures have become so routine that we often take the results for granted. But I found myself unable to think of much else today, and Jordan is preoccupied with the minor details. She keeps reminding me of the appointment tomorrow, and insists again and again that I hold her hand until she falls asleep (which I always do when I go along).

Jeanette and I have trained ourselves to focus on the day at hand. Anticipating the troubles the future might bring yields little benefit. But days like tomorrow remind us of the oft-forgotten gravity in Jordan’s life. It pricks us till our skin is raw, and rushes our adrenaline emotion.

This is a real snippet from our family dinner together on Saturday:

Luc — Jordan, did you try the creme brulee?
Jordan — Yes
Luc — How did it taste?
Jordan — Oh. Like falling in love.
Luc — No, not a metaphor. How did it really taste?
Jordan (casting her eyes to the ceiling and looking dreamy — a pregnant pause, and then…) Like a warm pine cone.

She’s my little poet.

Jordan, in one of her contemplative states

“You know what’s living, Dad?”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked just beyond me. I had been slicing an apple for us to enjoy with a chunk of blue cheese and some toast, but when she changed the subject from coloring books to life, I gave her my full attention.

“What’s living?”

“This blue cheese is living.”

I agreed with her and told her again how cheese changes every day, just like wine, because it contains bacteria that grows and gives it delicious flavor. She nodded, but then added.

“Yeah. But this IS living.”

She generously coated an apple slice with the cheese, but before biting into it, she crumbled off a bit of the cheese alone and savored it. She dissolved into a mild ecstasy of the palette in a dramatic flourish that can only be regarded as Jordan’s signature.

A few minutes later she wandered off, leaving me alone to my snack and a bit of reflection. She was right, of course. A good cheese is living. (more…)

She was scheduled for chemo today, but her counts are low, so she gets a week off. The numbers aren’t so low that we have to be overly-cautious, but low enough that it wasn’t wise to give her the drugs. She goes back to CHLA next week for MRI.

Searching for the product that glitters and screams “Jordan”

“I’m not ready to go yet,” she exclaimed as she rounded another aisle at Sephora.

“You have nearly 10 items on your list,” Jeanette replied. She held the spiral-bound notebook Jordan used to record all the things she’d like to have as future gifts.

“But I’m trying to find something that is glittery and that screams Jordan!”

Jeanette raised her hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh. Jordan wouldn’t have known. She busily fingered display items on the lip gloss counter.

She was so good for her grandparents while we were away that we offered her a chance to window shop at one of her favorite stores. She loves to “girl it up,” and Sephora is just the place she loves to indulge her girliest fancies.

When at last she had sampled her fill, and added several entries to her wish book, she proclaimed to the entire store, “the movie star is going home.”

And off we went.