My Bob Amato

It's strange how quickly life changes. In an instant your whole focus and direction can be derailed by the unknown or unexpected. I had one of those moments yesterday. I got a call from my dad yesterday morning that shook me to the core and left me feeling completely helpless and my heart aching. My 8 year old nephew, Andrew, had just had an MRI of his brain to see if they could determine the cause of some issues with his motor skills on the right side of his body. They discovered a large tumor covering 70% of his cerebellum.

My little Andrew has a brain tumor. It's real. It's scary. It's a gut check like I've never experienced before. I'm glad I was in Denver to receive the news. I was able to spend the entire day with my family as we prayed, hoped, grieved and tried to find some kind of comfort in the reality of this unbelievable news.

We'd all noticed that Andrew was a bit clumsy, and even joked about it with him, but thought nothing major of it. There are lots of kids that are not overly coordinated, but recently his uncoordinated movements began to look a bit different. Kids at school were even teasing him because of the way he walked. The catalyst to get him checked was a call from his teacher. She said that his handwriting had been deteriorating over the last bit, which had been a concern to her, but she was truly concerned when he had been unable to hold on to a pair of scissors in class.

After finding the tumor, it was discovered that there was extra fluid on his brain, increasing the pressure to a dangerous level, so the first priority was to relieve that pressure. Last night they drilled a small hole in his skull to allow the fluid to drain, and his motor skills have already improved.

Now it is a matter of "hurry up and wait" as we wait for the specialist to do a detailed analysis of his MRI and schedule surgery to remove the tumor. We won't know until they have done the surgery whether it is benign or malignant. There is a possibility that, because of the size or malignancy, he will have to undergo chemotherapy and/or radiation treatments after the surgery.

My sister Brittany, Andrew's mom, Taylor, Andrew's big sister, and Andrew live in Boise, ID so part of the angst all of us were feeling yesterday was the inability to be there to give them all a big hug and let them know how much we love them.

Brittany is one of the strongest and most capable people I know, and I admire her ability to face adversity head on. She always seems to push forward, taking on the challenges that come her way with very little complaint and a whole lot of resolve. Even still, I can't imagine what she must be going through right now. I wish there was something I could do to make it...well, I don't know. I'm not sure there is a way to make something like this "easier". The complete impotence of my abilities as the big sister is evident in the reality that I don't even know what anyone could possibly do to help shoulder the burden for her.

Dad says Taylor has been the perfect big sister. She didn't want to leave the hospital yesterday because she wanted to be with her brother. She says she's just happy that they were able to figure out what was wrong with Andrew and can't wait for them to help him get back to being "Andrew" again.

I'm teetering on the brink of tears at any given moment. The logical side of my brain keeps telling me that there is every reason to hope, and that dwelling on the worst case scenarios is not helpful or productive...but the emotional side of me keeps thinking about my Little Andrew. My Bob Amato.

I remember the day Andrew was born. I had a night class and was unable to get to the hospital to meet the little trooper until after 8pm, which meant it was just me, Brittany and beautiful little Andrew. I held him for a long time that night, listening to his sad little congested breathing and falling in love. Such a precious little boy.

I basically lived at Brittany's house for the next 6 months or so while I was working on my Master's Degree, and there were many nights that I spent on her couch doing my homework with Andrew asleep on my chest. Memories that I cherish.

He's always been such a sweet and kind little boy. Always so full of love. When he was just starting to talk in sentences that you could understand he had a fascination with the Veggietales. One of my favorite memories of all time was when he began telling people that his name was "Bob Amato" (Bob the Tomato). It melted my heart it was so adorable! From then on, he knew that was my favorite thing, and what I wanted to hear when I asked him what his name was. When he started to speak more clearly and began saying "Bob THE Mato" it almost broke my heart...he was growing up!! Then one day he actually said "Bob the Tomato" and I wanted to cry. There was also the brief period when he was way too cool to tell me his name was anything other than Andrew, and I really had to try hard to coax it out of him...but he would always do it, grudgingly, just because he knew it was what I wanted to hear.

It's hard to sit back and wait for this to play out. All I can do is pray, and love, and hope. That's what I'm doing. Praying and loving and hoping. Hoping that my Bob Amato is going to be home and healthy very soon.