Dear Family and Friends, I think most of you already know that Victoria had another clear CT scan on Wednesday, November 21, 2007. This marked the two year point since her original diagnosis and one year and eight months since being declared cancer-free. It’s been an incredible journey filled with multiple paths that have led us to a thankful place. We are so incredibly grateful to continue enjoying such good fortune. Today, December 21, 2007 officially marks the two year anniversary of Victoria’s surgery at Memorial Sloan Kettering in New York. The day when she had her right kidney removed along with sections of her liver and her diaphragm. I reflect on that day with such mixed emotions. However, I recall the events of the day with such haunting vivid clarity. We awakened at the Ronald McDonald House on the upper eastside in Manhattan at 5:00 am to get Victoria ready for the hospital. I remember our short ride to the hospital and the eerie calm of the City during that time of the morning. Pam and I were so tired from the lack of sleep from the previous night. We were deep in thought on how the events of the day would ultimately unfurl. Meanwhile, Victoria’s little face was pressed against the car window bundled up in warm clothes applicable to the time of year. Her eyes were affixed to the holiday lights dangling from the buildings and she commented on their sparkling beauty. Pam and I looked at one another in disbelief that Victoria noticed the lights and thankfully was unable to comprehend the severity of the moment. She was our sweet little girl embarking on the fight of her life. I dressed in surgical scrubs and carried my baby into the operating room. Victoria was partially sedated and awaiting full anesthesia. I gently laid her down on the operating table, while trying to keep my emotions in check. Victoria giggled at me commenting how funny I appeared in the surgical mask. I kissed her forehead and told her I would see her after the surgery. She looked up at me with such confident reassuring eyes as only a daughter could look at her father. I left the operating room and glanced back at her with tears in my eyes hoping for a positive outcome. Dr. Michael LaQuaglia, the chief surgeon assured me that Victoria was “his daughter” while she was on the operating table. The surgery took seven agonizing hours, but we ultimately received the news that all the cancer had been removed. We went up to the recovery room to see our baby lying amongst rows of other surgical patients. She was the only child in the room. Victoria’s tiny naked bloated body was transversed with an array of tubes to monitor her vital signs. The surgical team put her into an induced coma and placed her on a respirator. She was transferred via ambulance across the street to Columbia Presbyterian Hospital to their pediatric intensive care unit. Strangely, I felt relieved to see Victoria in such a peaceful catatonic state. She was resting and that insidious tumor was now out of her body. I left the hospital and picked up Chinese food for Pam and I who were sitting next to Victoria’s bed. The conversation was light and pleasant. I think we were so relieved that this awful part of the journey was behind us… I often ask myself why I continue to write this journal and relive my thoughts. Initially, it was a way of self therapeutic preservation and a vehicle for mass communications with the outside world. I don't really have an answer to “why” I continue writing this journal nor will I ever understand why my little girl was chosen to fight this disease. The entire episode is still surreal. However, I want others to know that positive can elevate from crisis with the foundation of love and perseverance. Please remember to love and cherish your children as they are a gift to never be taken for granted. I think I just answered my own question… Love to all and Happy New Year, Larry
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