D-Fence

In the game of life, there are metaphors. And from where I sit, few metaphors capture the dynamics of the human struggle better than the sport of American football. If the gridiron had existed in 1678, John Bunyan would have written about the progress of Rookie, not Pilgrim. I just have that feeling.

I've entitled this blog "Myla's Goal Line Stand" to reflect the defensive effort she needs to keep the Grim Reaper--dressed in a Patriot's jersey, I'm sure--out of the end zone. (No, I'm not bitter about the Colts loss to New England yesterday. Right.)

From a human perspective, it's like this: When you were born, death got the ball on its own goal line and began the inevitable march toward your end zone. For most of us, this offensive drive takes decades. Each birthday, we ironically celebrate the progress that Reaper and Co. has made in gaining one more yard and a "cloud of dust." Perhaps you can push the Reap back a few yards by "Sweating to the Oldies" with Gene Simmons (or was it Richard?), but the ultimate outcome for us mortals is sadly inevitable, at least from a human perspective. In fact, the only player who has taken it to the house versus the Grim Reaper is Jesus Christ, but that's another post for another day. For the rest of us, it's a slow defensive retreat. And as Ponce de Leon proved, we can never get possession of the ball; we are always grunting it out on defense.

Here's how I see this applying to Myla: When her game clock began, the Grim Reaper was given the ball on her 10-yard line. To make matters worse, Myla's aggressive cancer is a brutal opponent. It's as if she is facing a team with all the advantages of the Patriots--the exceptional quarterback, the great offensive line, the video cameras on the sidelines.... (Really, no bitterness here.) :)

Once Myla's chemo treatments start, the ball will move dangerously close to Myla's goal line. While 50% of children survive their battle with AML, this stat applies mostly to kids over 1-year-old. In fact, it is extremely rare for a child under 12-months-old to have leukemia. Dr. Kumar, our main doctor at Riley, shared that oncologists might see only 2-3 children in Myla's condition during their entire careers. The usual stats just don't apply here. What we do know is that infants don't fare well with chemo. Period.

So, when Myla's treatments start this week, the ball will get pushed to her 5-yard line. And in the 10-14 days that follow, the ball will plunge so close to her goal line that an anteater standing in her end zone could lick it. Or chameleon--take your pick. This will be a dangerous time. This is when she is most at risk from being scored on by an infection as the chemo will knock out her ability to make a defensive stand. After these 10-14 days, Myla's defense should strengthen and we hope she can push the cancer back to her 10-yard line. The ball will stay here for about 2 weeks--like a time out. Then the clock restarts with the Grim Reaper moving on a fresh set of downs.

If Myla is able to make 5 defensive stands during her chemo treatments, then her cancer will be considered in remission and the ball will be pushed out to her 20-yard line. Yippee. While it's still in the "red zone," Myla's field position would be much improved. And if she lives to her 5th birthday with no recurrence of leukemia, then she will be considered "cured" by her medical team. This would be like sacking the Grim Reaper all the way back to his 5-yard line.

I ran the risk of beating this metaphor of the Grim Reaper to death, but that at least explains the title of this blog and the urgency of Myla's situation. Go Myla! :)