Stories of Lost Children
He fought the fight of his life!
by Victoria, Tempe, AZ, USA
My son Timothy was 14 years old when he died October 30, 2005. He was an average kid with little health issues at all. He was a jokester but more than that he was loving and a very young believer. At the age of thirteen Christmas 2004, Timothy complained about having a soar throat. I gave him two Alieve and he said it felt better. Christmas was over and he continued to complain about the pain. I took him to the doctor to see if there was some type of antibiotic they could give him (it must have been an infection). Sure enough that is what the doctor prescribed and sent us home. After days of taking the medicine there was no relief. It seemed as thought the pain was getting worse. We decided to take him to the hospital this time to see what they thought it was. Sure enough it was a bad infection and he recieved Intravenous antibiotics this time. He took that and a heavy dose in pill form home to relieve the remaing infection. After several days of this medicine it did nothing, the small lump begin to feel like a hard knot. Fear has set in and we have no idea what this could be. Back to the hospital again. This time Timothy was hospitalized. He was diagnoised with TB and quarantined . He was the first patient in this very state-of-the-art Children's hospital in Chicago Comer Childrens Hospital. The TB test took some time to come back negative. They looked at staff infection, nothing relating to that is happening. Finally an intern suggested they perform a fluid biopsy. It was taken and the news was shocking to the family as well as to Timothy. He had Cancer! They story took a nose dive from there and I had been faced with my worse fear ever! I was losing my son. I tried to be the person who found the cure for this very rare and deadly form of Cancer (Mucoepidermoid carcenoma). Timothy was finally diagnoised properly near the end of January. He died at the end of October. This cancer played with us and made us believe it had gone away and came back and took my baby's body over. It ate him up from the inside out (literally). I wish it was not him I wished it were me there. I deserved to suffer not him! Today I understand that he was the one who suffered the most then. I was left behind to suffer in silence while I live my life without him. It is a pain I have no idea how to get through. As his third year approaches me it seems like it was last night that I had to listen to those dreadful machines sound off all night because his vitals were so low in the end. He fought to the bitter end. He did not want to die and I had no idea he knew he was dying until after he was gone. His father and I agreed that we would not tell him so he would not lose hope. Timothy's funeral was on the front page of the Social Section of the Chicago Tribune. He was a White Sox fan and he told everyone at the begining of that season the Chicago White Sox would take the World Series. Well after 88 years they did just that. Only Timonthy was in a coma when they won. I know it made me feel like he did all that fighting to lose in the end. I have now decided that it was us that lost in the end he did not. He won his battle with cancer, he is free from that disease and it is free from him. He is no longer in pain. I thank God for that. Missing you always.
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