November 2011

 

Dear family and friends, for those who have been following sweet Madi’s story, we lost our little princess in the early hours of the morning on November 8th.  She left this world embraced in the arms of her parents.  Madi valiantly fought an extremely aggressive form of brain cancer for nearly seven and a half months.  Everyone is sad, but at peace knowing that Madi is pain free, living peacefully and happily with our Heavenly Father.  We are grateful for the knowledge that we will all be reunited again after each of our time on earth ends.

The funeral was very tender, with a touching video/picture presentation at the beginning, followed by moving memorials given by her nursery teacher, an uncle, her older brother Trey, and both of her parents.  Jay and Angie have been truly remarkable through this whole process—graceful, poised, and faithful.  A powerful example to all of us.

Here are the last two blog posts from Angie (Madi’s mom):

Monday, November 7, 2011 10:20 PM, EST

When my mom came to help me when Derek was born, we took the kids to the park to play. There was a huge slide that Madi and Trey were playing on. They were trying to climb up the slide the wrong way. Trey did it pretty easily and Madi, of course, had to follow. It was not so easy for her. All the way up, she chanted, “I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.” When she was almost to the top, she slipped and slid all the way down saying, “Maaaaaaaybe not.” It was hilarious and has been running joke in our family for a while. Well today feels like that same journey. She has been fighting so hard for so many months, but over the last few weeks she has accelerated the slide down. She has lost strength, mobility, and speech. She has started throwing up and having headaches. The last three days she seems to have had a non-stop headache and continues to vomit. I took her to Atlanta today to get chemo. We only had one more week before her MRI scheduled on November 14th. After that MRI we were going to decide if we should continue this treatment path or move onto something different. Last week the doctor recommended two other drugs that would fight the cancer cells from a different angle if we go off our current trial.

All the way up to Atlanta, Madi whimpered and cried out. When I would ask her what was wrong, she either fell asleep or couldn’t verbalize what was wrong. She is sleeping a lot and talking in her sleep, a trait my kids have picked up from their daddy. When I was a new mother, one of my favorite things was when Trey would laugh in his sleep (coincidentally, Derek does this same thing now). I thought, “What better testament to a great life than laughing in your sleep.” But now Madi is crying and screaming out in her sleep: a subconscious testament to the hell that she lives in on a daily basis. I can usually figure out what she needs, but not today. When she seemed awake, she kept saying “Mommy, Daddy, Ryan” (she misses Uncle Ryan who loves to shop online for nail polish with her) over and over, but she couldn’t tell me how to help her. I felt completely helpless so I just drove with one hand and rubbed her feet in the back with the other hand.

When I got to the hospital, I really didn’t want to tell the doctor about the last few days. I thought I would just get the treatment and push on until the 14th. After the 14th would be a break week and then a break over the Thanksgiving holiday. That would give us two whole weeks to decide if we should stay on this trial or try a new treatment. But I couldn’t hide her symptoms and the nurse called the doctor.

The doctor asked me how she’s been doing and I couldn’t fake it anymore. In fact, I couldn’t even tell him what was wrong with her. I just broke down in tears. When I finally regained my composure, I told him what had transpired over the last few days. He said that he did not need an MRI to make a decision. It was obvious to him, clinically, that the tumor is progressing, based on his assessment last week and today. I was completely devastated. So I gathered my strength once again to ask how we proceed with the next treatment option that we had discussed last week. He said that we would not be doing any other treatment options. It was now time to get hospice care and make her as comfortable as possible. I am…I’m not sure what comes after completely devastated.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011 1:11 PM, EST

Madi still had labored breathing as we prepared for bed last night. We asked a friend to come over to help Jay give Madi a blessing. We contemplated taking her to the ER but decided to take her to the clinic the next day as planned. At that point it was only 5 hours away. So we went to sleep at 1:30. Jay held her in his arms and I held her hand which she squeezed a few times. We all fell asleep. I woke up a little after three and realized she wasn’t breathing. She had slipped peacefully away in our arms. She was beautiful and smiling and at peace.

When Madi was young she learned to do everything very fast. She walked at nine months and talked at ten months. By the time she was 22 months she could speak very well and was just learning the coordination to undress herself. I tried to dress her in pants one morning and she lost it. She ran away from me and worked on getting out of her clothes for 10 minutes while screaming, “I’m a princess. I need a dress!”

Well it turns out she was right. Romans 8:16-17 states, “The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God: And if children, then heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.”

So if God is our King, then Madi is indeed a full-fledged princess, and she has inherited the kingdom of God.

Notice the whole family is wearing purple—Madi’s favorite color.

There is a lot more news, but it all can wait.  May you all have a blessed holiday season.

Love,

TFK