Avi and I agree, there is something about Brooklyn. She possesses something different than the other children. She is tenacious and precocious, sometimes even a little provocative and, my god, so unrelenting when she doesn't get her way. Anytime I have doubted her ability to do something due to her size or age, she has gone out of her way to prove me wrong. Her siblings possess their own wonderful and unique qualities; Brooklyn was built to fight this disease. When people comment on how well I've handled this or how much work I've put in... well, it wasn't me. I am simply a chauffeur. I measure out medications and pay the bills while attempting to quell my own crushing anxiety. Brooklyn did the work, she is fighting this fight, beating this beast.
It's a bit of an odd anniversary. How does one "celebrate" the day their toddler was diagnosed with a near fatal disease? It seems inappropriate to buy a cake for the occasion. So I'm making this day completely her own. We will do whatever she pleases. She's got some pretty lofty plans, which so far have consisted of watching Ratatouille while reading an American Girl catalogue. My kind of gal.
We still have a ways to go in terms of treatment. A year and a half to be exact. March will mark one year in remission for Brooklyn. It's a milestone. Remaining in remission for one year without relapse kind of ups the odds, if you will. I breath a touch more easier with every day, week and month that passes without incident. My fingers remain crossed.
It's been a year, dear Brooklyn. I thank my lucky stars for you every single day.
