Precious Memories...

If the eyes are the window to the soul, the eyes of a cancer child are the window to eternity...



Recently I was asked to share the story of Bub...not Braeden's cancer story, but the story of the kid himself. I thought I would share it here as well, with a few more stories added in.

Braeden was a fireball...he was larger than life. Everything he did, he did with all his might. Riding his bike down the driveway or jumping into his wading pool-it was all full speed ahead.
He was always “high maintenance.” We thought he was just a fussy, irritable child. Then the diagnosis came—neuroblastoma and OMS (ospsoclonus-myoclonus syndrome)--the day before he turned two. Bub began treatment right away, and a new kid emerged. Who'd have thought that chemo would make him feel better?! But that summer, the real Braeden showed up in a big way. He grew a HUGE personality! He liked “his” hospital and was always happy to go there. He made friends with his care team, learning most of their names and formed close bonds with some very special people. At the same time, he was always excited to go home from the hospital because home meant mowing on the tractor with dad and having wiya pits (fire pits) with the family. He loved toasting mono-monos (marshmallows), but not really eating them. He loved slushies, especially from his hospital, and his favorite was blue. He loved playing outside, walking by the river, and going for ice cream at Charley's. He loved cars and trucks (especially monster trucks) and motorcycles. He loved police cars and police motorcycles and fire trucks and the hospital aeromed helicopter. He adored superheroes-any superheroes. He enjoyed playing with his big sister, whom he called “Yaya” and would play anything with her-house, ponies, polly pockets, barbies, it didn't matter to him. He lived to be outside. The summer after his central line was removed, he discovered the joy of water and it was impossible to keep him dry. That was the Summer of Braeden (2008). He tackled the pool, the water park, the beach, the “binker” (sprinkler)--anything outdoors and involving water. He could be loud and so silly, singing and dancing around. He would often yell “Are you ready for Monta Jam?!” to his daddy. He was well known for his version of Chris Tomlin's “How Great Is Our God,” but true to Braeden form, it was the head banger version complete with air or badminton racket “guitar.” He became known as the 7 South greeter on our floor, because he always had to go to his room door and say hi to everyone, or go to the playroom door to greet people coming in to clinic. For some reason, he enjoyed watching the CPR channel, often in Spanish, on the hospital tv network. He liked to give knuckles and thumbs up when he was pleased with things, and a crinkly-brow scowl when he was not. You always knew how he felt about things, because his face was so expressive. He loved candy...almost any kind of candy, and even told his dad and one of his nurses that candy makes you smarter! He had very odd tastes (maybe because of chemo?) He loved to get happy meals, but would hardly ever eat them for lunch or dinner. But cold for breakfast the next morning, that was a favorite. He also LOVED salami--or slllllllllami, as he called it. He would eat salami on waffles for breakfast, with cheese and potato chips for lunch, anytime he could. He also liked cold ramen noodles anytime. For 23 months Braeden battled cancer while keeping his silly sense of humor, his amusing particularities, and his joy for living. He didn't complain. He just made the best he could of everything. He liked to argue, and made sure to squeeze in one last argument with mom ("demanding" an orange and a blue flavor ice and trying to insist on having a sippy cup and/or a straw to drink from) less than 24 hours before he went home to heaven. I even miss the arguments.

I hope that somehow my words covey the real Braeden Peter "SuperBub." Not the kid who fought cancer, because while he did that with so much strength, joy, and courage it never defined him. He defined himself-- "capeet motoyikel man to da recue!" Miss you, my brave warrior...