Message from Henry

Dear all!

As superb a job as Cynthia has done at keeping everyone fully apprised of how Harry and we are doing on this journey, I thought I'd add a few thoughts from a Dad's perspective. As Cynthia recounted, the story starts with the terror of being sent to Children's emergency by Harry's pediatrician on Feb 22, the anxiety of a weekend of tests, and then the devastation of a cancer diagnosis on Feb 24.

One thing we've known for a while is that Harry absolutely loves music, rhythm, anything with a beat -- I sometimes think a heartbeat is enough to get him grooving. When he's feeling well, which he has been the past week or so, just holding him in my arms is enough to get him bopping up and down. If there's music on, look out, he's lunging for the nearest object that he can use for percussion.

Back to that weekend in February: Harry had not been feeling well (yes, a bit of an understatement) for weeks and had become worryingly listless. When I flipped the TV in the hospital room to the weather channel, though, just to hear some music and caught the U2 song "Walk On," Harry flashed his trademark 1000-watt smile for the first time in days and started grooving along. In that moment Cynthia and I both saw that his essence, the deep joy at the centre of his being, was unchanged and that he would show us the way to walk on.

The first few days were very tough. I remember feeling wracked with guilt that we had done something wrong and then thinking I'd never feel joy or happiness or experience laughter again. Well I was wrong on all counts: in the first week I felt all those emotions again (and thanks to the takeout shawarmas that Uncle Gareth brought to the post-op waiting room on the day of Harry's biopsy surgery, I got my appetite back too!).

As difficult a journey as this is, it's exhilarating too because we're feeling the healing power of community. We're in the throes of a miracle. One of my professional interests is in community-based resource management, and so I've researched and written about community-based approaches, but I've never experienced anything like this. When I'm too tired to pray, it's reassuring to know the rest of the world is picking up the slack. I don't know where we'd be without this tremendous outpouring of support from family and friends and people we don't even know: I pray with profound gratitude for the web of love that's holding us together and healing Harry.

The list of spiritual and material gifts shared with us is almost too long to list, and I'm sure I've forgotten something, but we're immeasurably grateful for the prayer shawls that have coddled Harry and us; all the inspirational cards and messages; the prayer lists around the world that include Harry; Jodi's organizational talents; Jacki and Erika's healing circles; Mariah's reiki, Izzy's reiki, and Jennifer's energy healing; Auntie Cecelia and Oma Norma, who put their lives on hold to fly to Winnipeg to spend weeks with us figuring out next steps; the seemingly infinite variety of casseroles and salads that keep showing up on our doorstep; the freezer to put them in; play-dates and babysitters for Lydia; the hospital parking pass; random acts of generosity; my understanding colleagues at IISD; our wonderful medicare system and its dedicated and compassionate staff; Kathleen and Gareth for managing this marvelous blog that's been so instrumental to Harry's healing.

I'm also incredibly grateful for Lydia and Cynthia, who seem to know exactly what big sisters and moms are supposed to do at all times, and I'm especially grateful for Harry. It's very easy to stay this positive with our little guy leading the way, showing us how to walk on.

With love to you all,

Henry