There’s Always Something To Be Thankful For November 28, 2025
Posted by Waking Up With A Broken Heart in Uncategorized.Tags: grief, loss, love, thankfulness, thanksgiving
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When my baby Sal died, I wanted to die. When you have experienced the greatest, most profound and unimaginable loss that any human could possibly experience, you feel as if there is nothing to ever be thankful for.
It took me a while to realize it, but there is ALWAYS something to be thankful for.
My entire life now & forever more revolves around my precious baby Sal. Although my life is tragic and difficult, my list of everyone and everything I am thankful for on this journey continues to grow, but some are so very strong and will never be forgotten.
I am thankful for my sister Maggie who flew home the day Sal was diagnosed to stay with my 4 other children as Steven & I flew to Sloan Kettering in NYC to start our new life trying to save our baby’s life.
I am thankful for Maggie’s husband Jeff, who had just married her months before, for his understanding and compassion.
I am thankful for my sister-in-law Ellen who took over for Maggie 9 months later so she could join us in our fight across the country. She took care of my children like they were her own.
I am thankful for my sister-in-law Sara who stayed with me and Sal whenever possible in NY, which for me was, at the time, a terrifying new land. For giving Sal a refuge in Connecticut when he had a few days off treatment and for making sure we always had delicious food to eat.
I am more than thankful for Paula, an amazing, loving, kindhearted friend whom I really did not know at the time. Paula gave Sal & I a home, “his apartment” for 3 & ½ years on the upper east side of NYC. Our home away from home for treatment at Sloan Kettering, and Sal’s very favorite place to be besides home in Miami.
I am thankful for my sweet daughter Samantha who traveled with Sal & I whenever possible, who at such a young age understood her brother’s pain and difficulties. For pretending to get IV’s in the infusion room so Sal wouldn’t be so upset, who constantly went down to Starbucks to get me coffee, who was a friend to all the kids in the playroom, who when home, was the 2nd mom to her brothers, who understood that mommy had to be away so much to try to save our baby’s life.
I am thankful for Vanessa, who took amazing care of my children when I was away from home for months at a time. My kids loved her so much.
I am thankful for Lori, who is like a sister to me, who loved my baby so much, who constantly visited us in the hospital and who kept Sal so very happy.
I am thankful for Uncle Jason who made me laugh when I didn’t think I could. Who talked Sal into letting me go take a shower after almost 2 weeks! Who faithfully brought us dinner every Thursday night and who entertained Sal with his tales of Cosmo the Cockroach.
I am thankful for the family who donated their private jet to fly Sal & I home for 2 days on December 31st 2007, after being away from home for 3 months straight.
I am thankful for the woman who overheard me crying hysterically on the phone to my husband while at Cherry’s Pharmacy on a very rainy day at 5:00pm. Sal had just been released from the hospital, we walked to the pharmacy to pick up his prescription and it started pouring rain. Anyone who knows NYC knows there are no cabs or car services available at this time. (there was no Uber then) Sal was crying that he wanted to go home. This lady walked up to me and said “I will take you home” Not only did she drive us home, she went back to the pharmacy, picked up Sal’s prescription and brought it back to our apartment. Bless this woman I do not know and never saw again.
I am thankful for Sal’s caring, loving, thoughtful and patient nurses. One time Sal wouldn’t lay still for his special emergent MRI, he asked for Casey & she came down and talked him through the entire hour promising to stay with him and walk with him to the toy store, which she so sweetly did. The shark watch they bought that night is still on his favorite Yeti bear that I sleep with every night.
I am thankful for the cab drivers who grew to love Sal. The driver who kept pulling over so I could open the door and throw up because I was so violently ill but had to get to the hospital so Sal could get his treatment. The driver who kissed Sal’s soft bald head as I cringed (I was/am a severe germaphobe) and prayed my baby would be well.
I am thankful for my friend Shari, for her son, Sal’s bestfriend, Chase, who came to visit us in different states whenever they could. To Chase for treating Sal so sweetly and for being his bestfriend for so many years. They planned to build a tunnel between our houses.
I am thankful for my friend Candace who at ANY time of night was there for me, to make me laugh, to talk, to cry with me, to give me & Sal our very first pair of Uggs so I could walk the 20 blocks to and from the hospital in 17 degree weather.
I am thankful for Grace who lent us a computer to use so we could iChat with our family at home all the time, and watch them eat dinner.
I am thankful for my children, Sal’s brothers & sister, ages 6, 8, 10 & 15 at the time; for somehow understanding why mommy & Sal had to be away from them for so long and so often.
I am thankful for my husband’s constant research which helped keep our baby alive longer than anyone believed could happen.
I am thankful for Gina, our researcher who worked so feverishly to try to find a treatment to save our baby.
I am thankful for the Ronald McDonald House in Minnesota & Philadelpha; for their warm and caring volunteers, employees & social workers. Sal loved staying there.
I am thankful for the Marriott across from Texas Children’s Hospital who were so nice to my baby. Who had his “very favorite bed ever” & “the world’s best room service”.
I am thankful for Dr. Guillermo de Angulo, Sal’s very favorite oncologist, for loving my baby, for helping him through this journey, for accommodating his wishes whenever possible, for thinking “outside the box”, for being my friend, and for saving my own life.
I am thankful for all of my friends who were always willing to help and do whatever needed for me and our family.
I am thankful for Corporate Angels who helped us with so many flights to & from so many different states.
I am thankful to JetBlue & Southwest Airlines for treating my baby like a VIP on every single flight. And especially to the Jetblue pilot who let Sal sit in the cockpit and taught him how to fly a plane.
I am thankful for the Red Cap worker at Amtrak in Penn Station in NYC who always helped Sal & I get on the train to Philly and made sure we were comfortable before leaving us.
I am thankful to Ana, Sal’s phlebotomist at clinic who listened to Sal and drew his blood wherever he asked her to, even though it was very difficult at times.
I am thankful for the car service driver who stayed with Sal & I when we arrived in Minnesota for the first time and no one answered the door at the Ronald McDonald House for over 30 minutes.
I am thankful for Pete who drove Sal in his police car looking for a “bad guy” and made Sal feel important & special.
I am thankful for my daddy who drove Sal & I to and from the airport whenever we needed him, for taking Sal toy shopping when he felt good and for bringing his puppy Johnny to play with Sal when we were home and his counts were high.
I am thankful for the Drs & nurses at CHOP that saved Sal’s life in July 2010 when he coded.
I am thankful for Stephanie, Sal’s forever girlfriend, for never leaving my baby’s side, for loving him and making him feel so very special.
I am thankful for Leo, for being Sal’s friend, for constantly staying with us in Sal’s final days, for loving my baby and continuing to be a part of our lives.
I am thankful for the over 700 people from all over the world that came to say goodbye to Sal at his Celebration of Life at Sheridan Hills Baptist Church. I am thankful for the Pastors that helped us during his service and allowed us to play music that Sal loved although most of it was not appropriate for church.
I am thankful for my friend Enyd, for sharing her beautiful daughter Erica with me that was Heaven sent by her son Derek to help us get through life without our babies.
I am thankful for the love and support of my family, my friends, and my truly amazing community.
I am thankful for my friends who make me laugh even when I think I never will again.
I am thankful for Esther who works so hard with me to bring happiness to our kids and to raise money we so desperately need for research.
I am thankful for everyone in my life.
I am thankful for the 7 Thanksgivings I had with my baby although I wish I had more.
I am thankful for all the very loud and poignant signs my baby sends me to let me know he is with me.
And I am beyond thankful for Victor Dante, who believed in me and who helped me make a dream come true, to bring happiness and joy to kids like Sal.
I am thankful for all the happiness that our magical Heroes Hangout has brought to children like my baby for the last 7 years. (I am thankful for everyone who was a part of making my newest Wish come true of a larger Hangout this year)
I am thankful for my sweet friend Steve who helps me bring so much happiness to our children.
I am thankful to everyone who helps me bring joy to children battling this evil disease.
I am Thankful for all the wonderful years of friendship I had with my beautiful Sandy who is now with Sal.
I AM FOREVER THANKFUL FOR BEING CHOSEN AS SAL’S MOMMY.
In times of desperation, we must reach inside ourselves and pull from deep within to realize and acknowledge what we CAN give thanks for.
There’s always something to be thankful for…
Simultaneous Joy & Grief…and then a Sign April 12, 2025
Posted by Waking Up With A Broken Heart in Uncategorized.Tags: cars, Family, grief, joy, life, short-story, signs, writing
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Grief is never ending. Sometimes it wraps itself around joy so tightly that the two become indistinguishable – happiness cloaked in heartbreak. Right now I am sad, deeply, physically sad, the kind of sadness that makes it hard to breathe like my heart is bleeding and my chest is collapsing under the weight of it.
It’s relentless, unforgiving.
I feel like I am slowly losing the last tangible pieces of my world with him, little by little everything connected to his presence seems to be slipping away, and it’s so f****** unfair.
Life isn’t supposed to be like this… at least I never believed it could be.
The strange thing is, this grief is wrapped around something that should be a moment of celebration – a moment of happiness.
Let me back track, for the last over 15 years I’ve driven the same Toyota Sequoia. So many have seen me in that truck, wrapped in colorful Childhood Cancer graphics including a picture of my precious baby, hauling supplies for events, running errands, always on the move, but to me that Sequoia was more than a vehicle.
It was the backdrop to our story.
It carried Sal and I through hospital visits, road trips to Disney, Universal, Sea World, so many moments during his battle.
It’s the truck I drove when Sal and I were home from whatever state we’d returned from for treatment.
It’s the one I drove him to appointments in, the one I cried in after really hard days, and smiled and laughed in when he was feeling good.
He always sat in the middle seat, the one where I could look up and see him in the little round mirror.
I could hold his hand as I drove, or sneak looks at him while he was sleeping, eating snacks or watching one of his favorite DVDs.
That little mirror let me mother him in motion, watching him, comforting him, loving him while still moving forward. Sometimes I’d see him smile, sometimes I’d see his pain that he tried to hide. He never wanted me to worry, always saying I love you mommy, even when he was hurting, and I’d do everything I could to keep him comfortable, one hand on the wheel, the other passing snacks, or putting his favorite dvd in the player, singing with him, smiling at him, just being with him.
That truck was our sanctuary, but life moves forward, even when your heart doesn’t.
The sequoia had started leaking during storms. The exterior began falling apart. I’ve known for a while that it was time. Sammy and I had been looking for a new truck for over a year, but nothing felt right.
Maybe because nothing could. Nothing could hold those memories the way that truck did.
Last week we found a beautiful new truck, big enough to hold all of the gear for my events for kids fighting cancer, just like the old one did. But I didn’t expect to bring it home that day. I don’t know, maybe I thought I’d have more time, which is silly to say – more time to say goodbye to a truck? Really? Or maybe I thought it would just always sit in my driveway, a precious symbol of a time I so fiercely hold onto.
But suddenly I was cleaning it out, collecting his DVDs, his little action figures, his dollar bills, and even a few of his leftover medical supplies – little sacred relics of a life too short with my baby, yet so deeply lived.
I know a truck is just ‘a thing’, I do, but it’s a thing that was piece of him – of us, and letting go of anything that was a part of our time together, breaks my heart even more.
So there I sat at the dealership, sobbing while we were signing papers. I am sure people stared, confused by the woman crying over buying a brand new vehicle – proof that you never know what the person next to you at a store, in a park, or even sitting beside you in a in a car dealership is carrying inside.
The salesman was young, probably no kids of his own, but I could see he felt bad for me. He promised to take good care of it. What a nice thing to say. I wanted to scream at him, – ‘no you won’t, you are going to rip it apart, paint it and erase any little sign of our existence in it’ – but he was sweet and kind and he will probably never forget this very unusual sale.
Every one wants something shiny and new. Me? I just want to hold on to everything that was a part of my baby.
Just like a quiet wink from the universe, an (expected) sign perhaps, when I got home I saw an email from Google Maps. A Congratulatory email. It was a photo of Heroes Hangout that had just reached 10,000 views. The photo? It was my old truck parked proudly out front of the Hangout. Maybe that really was a sign – a message from my precious baby. Maybe he was saying ‘It’s okay, mom. It’s just a truck. I’ll ride with you no matter what you’re driving. I will always be next to you’ at least that’s what I hope it meant, what I want to believe it meant because really, otherwise why would that email have been sent the same day?
So if you see me driving my new truck, just know this. I love it. I really do, but it hurts – physically hurts. My chest aches when I climb in and the tears just stream down my face, but I know it will get easier. One day I’ll be able to drive it without tears in my eyes. One day this new truck will hold new memories as well. Not with him, but with him next to me.
It’s funny, isn’t it? That a machine can mean so much to someone. That someone could unknowingly buy a used car and never know it carried someone’s entire heart for over a decade. Most people worry about inheriting problems with a used vehicle, but sometimes they’re inheriting love, memories – a story, like mine….
All I want……… December 13, 2017
Posted by Waking Up With A Broken Heart in Christmas, Infinite Pain, Love & Grief.Tags: Christmas, grief, love, pain
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All I want for Christmas…..and every other holiday and birthday…..is my baby back.
That’s it, nothing else. Just him. Just my Sal. Just my precious baby.
So he can wrap his arms around me and tell me he loves me. So I can kiss him good night. So I can hear him say “mama hug me”. So we can stay up late and watch silly movies. So we can have some more midnight snacks. So we can play video games and laugh at how terrible I am. So we can have late night Target runs for a new toy or 2 or 3. So we can have another war with his toys. So I can make him pińa coladas while he plays in the pool with his sister & brothers. So we can go to the flea market and scour the entire place looking for blue toys. So we can go see inappropriate movies and I can cover his eyes and have him yell at me. So we can sing in the car. So we can dance in the bedroom. So we can jump on the bed. So we can eat blue cotton candy and blue snow cones. So we can drive around looking for new toy stores. So we can argue over whether Ruby is Max’s mother or sister. So we can go out for pizza. So we can watch Spongebob. So he can dress up like the Blueranger. So he can be Captain America again. So we can have another birthday cake. So we can find another little toy to collect. So we can go to Disney. So we can ride the waverunners. So we can play Club Penguin and feed his Puffles. So I can cook him his favorite steak. So I can read him 5 books before bed. So he can stick his head out of the sunroof when we pick up Sergio from school. So he can win at every game we play. So he can ride his car around the house. So we can visit Papi and play with Johnny. So we can buy some more Red Bull. So he can make me read more books about bugs just to see me cringe. So we can watch Jaws again. So I can kiss his sweet soft head. So we can count the freckles on his nose again to see if there’s any new ones. So we can go for a walk. So we can shop for blue toys online. So we can cook 15 different things for dinner. So we can go to the park. So we can go to New York and visit all his favorite places. So we can fall asleep on the couch. So we can eat ice cream for breakfast. So we can eat pizza for lunch and dinner. So he can tell me again how he was going to marry me when he grew up. So we can fight over who loves who the most again. So I can kiss his cute little nose. So he can give me 4 inches of bed space again. So I can make him another bubble bath. So we can order room service. So we can barbecue his favorite food. So he can eat chocolate cigars. So he can make me watch horror movies and not let me close my eyes. So he can tell me how beautiful I am and I can tell him how handsome he is. So I can hug him and never let go………………..
So we can decorate his little blue Christmas tree…….
So I can wake up on Christmas day, kiss him and see the excitement, happiness and joy in his eyes………..
THAT’S ALL I WANT………
A Hurricane, PTSD, & SAL September 23, 2017
Posted by Waking Up With A Broken Heart in Infinite Pain, Love & Grief, Love & Pain, PTSD after Childhood Cancer.Tags: Angels, grief, hurricanes, Irma, Irreplaceable, love, pain, PTSD
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Hurricane Irma was devastating on so many levels.
Most of the state was evacuated. Some people evacuated 2 to 3 times running from the storm. Here in Miami, I happen to live in an evacuation zone right on the water. We were told the storm surge could reach 10 to 20 feet. The decision to leave was a very difficult one for me. The thought of losing my baby’s things was something that I just couldn’t grasp. You see, his belongings, his toys, his blankies, his clothes, everything he owned is in that house. It’s all I have left of him. I will never EVER have anything new that he loved, that he had touched. The turmoil that I experienced was just incomprehensible. I live in pain every day of my life, but what happened in the days leading up to Hurricane Irma, well, it’s so hard to describe. The gut wrenching feeling, the exasperation and anguish, the physical pain caused by mental exhaustion is difficult to describe.
We secured our house as much as possible. I wrapped as much as I could in plastic and stacked what I was able to up high in case the house got flooded due to the storm surge. There was no way I could wrap everything, It would be impossible to raise everything up. This new house we moved to is only one story and we weren’t sure how it would hold up in a Category 5 hurricane. The thought of the roof being ripped off of our house and my baby’s things being blown away, well it’s a feeling that only another mother who has lost a child could possibly understand.
Yes, material things are replaceable as they say, for most, but that is not true for me. Sal’s things are NOT replaceable. His favorite street sharks, his toys, his clothes such as his favorite jeans and blue shark shirts, all his dozens and dozens of blankies that he cherished. His Power Rangers, his Captain America toys, his favorite videos, all his different collectibles as well as all his handheld games. Those are not replaceable. The unseen fingerprints on everything he touched, the clothes he wore, his blankets that he always carried that made him feel cozy and warm. Those things could NEVER be replaced. They are the only things I will ever have. I couldn’t bring it all with me. I did the best I could.
As I apprehensively walked out the door with my loving family, tightly clutching my precious baby’s ashes (which is not normal and also another beyond devastatingly difficult thing to do) and leaving his cherished belongings behind, I asked him to please take care of his things because I couldn’t bear to lose any more of him. I realize no one truly understands. Even those especially close to me couldn’t and will probably never totally grasp the extent of my excruciating pain and anguish. The 48 hours I was away from home with the wind blowing and howling as if it were to rip apart the massive and strong building where we were staying, felt like weeks. All I wanted was to take my baby’s ashes securely home and check on his things. I knew my kids were safe with me and anything that happened to the house could be fixed. I knew the power would be out but would eventually be restored. I knew trees could be replanted, fences could be repaired. But my treasures could NEVER be replaced.
Finally, we were able to get home. I was born in Miami Beach and have lived thru many hurricanes, but driving thru the devastation and flooding in the neighborhoods this time truly was eerie. No power anywhere, giant trees uprooted blocking city streets, power lines down, sunken boats, and debris everywhere. Finally, in what seemed like hours although it was only minutes, we arrived home.
It was as if there had been a dome covering my home. No damage, no flooding……..the angel wing pool float along with the others were still in the pool. With hurricane force winds lashing all around our Miami home for 48 hours there could only be one explanation. Sal stayed home to guard his things for me. It’s the only possible explanation. #ThankYouSal
My Life……… January 29, 2014
Posted by Waking Up With A Broken Heart in Uncategorized.Tags: Cure Childhood Cancer, Derek Marcos Never Give Up, Dr Guillermo DeAngulo, Family Fun Nights, Go Gold, grief, Heartache, Imagine, MCH Oncology, Miami Childrens Hospital, My True Love, Mystic Force Foundation, Salvatore Vanni, Silvia Vanni
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My life is dedicated to saving all these precious suffering children………..
My life is dedicated to doing everything I can to making their time in treatment as “fun” as possible………
My life is dedicated to raising awareness of the “HELL” called Childhood Cancer………
My life is dedicated to finding a Cure………
My life is dedicated to you my precious baby…………..
Our last Christmas together 2010
Miami Childrens Hospital Oncology party.
They made this a very special day for you, didn’t they??
Because of you……….
We now have Family Fun Night every week on the inpatient floor of Miami Childrens Hospital, Once a month our Mystic Force Foundation sponsors it. Mommy & her amazing volunteers bring decorations, music, crafts, goodie bags loaded with candy, snacks and drinks, LOTS of toys donated by amazing people & companies,including Enyd, Derek’s mommy & her Derek Marcos Never Give Up toy drive, Jakkks Pacific, the Ty Company, Pat & Charlene Hazzard and so many others. We bring food also donated from some of your favorite restaurants and people who care so much, your favorite Superheroes have joined us and of course your favorite doctor……”Guillermo” is always there. We bring love, fun and laughter, just what you would have wanted. I always feel your presence, no matter how difficult it becomes, I know it’s what you would want me to do.I know this is what you would want.
I see your smile and your laughter in all of these amazing kids.
He reminds me so much of you………. You must have told him to dance for us…………
I WILL FOREVER DO EVERYTHING I CAN TO SAVE EVERY CHILD I CAN AND MAKE THEY AS HAPPY AS I CAN…….
FOR YOU……………. BECAUSE OF YOU……………
My True Love
Seconds in the actual realm of my reality…… March 10, 2013
Posted by Waking Up With A Broken Heart in Uncategorized.Tags: Childhood Cancer, grief, love, Mystic Force Foundation, Sal, Salvatore Vanni, Silvia Vanni
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Next week, March 19th will make 2 years that you are gone….. that’s 24 months, 730 days, 17,520 hours, ….. no matter how you look at it, its a long time. An eternity really, but, just seconds in the actual realm of my reality. I hear your voice calling me from across the house……
“mooooooooommmmmmmmm”……. I look up, anxious, then realize it’s not really you.
I’m cooking dinner, I glance and see you sitting at the bar playing on your iPad…then you are suddenly gone…………….
I go to your room, I lay in your bed, I hug your Build-a-bears…….. I go in your closet, my fingers caress your shirts that hang so neatly, waiting to be worn……………
I look at your toys, your most prized possessions that Sergio guards for you…..but you will never return to play with them will you????? What will happen to them when Sergio grows up?????????????
What will I do with your “stuff” ?????? I know I will keep it all………. but when will you be back???? When will you come play again??????? When will we cuddle in bed and watch midnight movies??????? When will we have midnight snacks at 4am???????
Can it really be that this will never happen again…….REALLY????????
That’s so hard to accept.
I walk past your pictures, kissing each one as I pass, my lipstick stains on every frame……………..it’s just not the right…….
I talk to you as I drive…………. punch buggy blue, yellow or white…………. did you see it?
“Mom, what did you say?”….. “Oh, nothing,…..I was talking to Sal”………………..
Do my kids think I’m crazy? Do they understand?
Will they remember their baby brother 10 or 20 years from now? Will they remember his laughter? His fighting spirit? How much he loved Club Penguin? His love of music? How much he loved Pitbull? How much he loved to dance? How he always wanted to go out to a Chinese buffet? Will they remember his favorite color was blue, or that he loved to watch Spongebob & iCarly? Will they remember he was the blue Power Ranger? Or that he was Captain America? Will they remember his 80 birthday celebrations? Will they remember his love of swimming and pina coladas in the pool? Will they remember his voice as he sang I am Blue………………..
What will they remember???????????
How do I keep them…………..or anyone……………… from forgetting……………
How do I get people to think of you every day? How do I get people to understand how devastating Childhood Cancer is?
How do I go on living without you?
My Broken Heart……. July 20, 2012
Posted by Waking Up With A Broken Heart in Love & Grief.Tags: broken heart, Childhood Cancer, grief, love, Mystic Force Foundation, pain, Sal, Salvatore Vanni, Silvia Vanni
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Have you ever woken up with a broken heart?
Have you ever felt as if all the blood has rushed out of your barely beating heart and your lungs are about to collapse due to the agonizing pressure? Have you felt all the life leave your body and you lay there without an ounce of strength, barely able to breathe from the seething pain………….and hardly able to raise a limb? You see people all around you, but no one seems to notice….. they go about their lives – oblivious to the dire state of your gravely broken heart. You somehow learn to live with this torment, this numbness, this acute sense of deprivation that very few understand. You live each day as you have to…….only partially conscious, going thru the motions as you have to until it is time to sleep……… you find yourself begging for sleep, that unconscious state where you feel no pain…………..
The world continues to revolve, the sun continues to rise, humanity continues to evolve…………….yet, for you, time has come to a halt…………..never to advance again.
Can you imagine living with this burning affliction day in and day out?
This is my life now……….
I was not shot in the heart as many of you may have assumed.
I am the victim of a broken heart from grief.
This blog is just a collection of random thoughts thru my eternal struggle to survive with out my true love, my amazing baby…………
Salvatore Antonio Vanni
Aprill 22, 2007 – March 19, 2011
Eternally 7
Those of you who know me, my husband or have followed my caringbridge site know of my agonizing plight over the last 5 years. For those who don’t I will recap…….
My baby was born full term & healthy, weighing 8lbs, 20in on April 22, 2003. He was a very happy healthy baby and toddler until one day in August 2007 when he suddenly said his leg hurt. We attributed it to a fall from a grocery cart a few days before. An xray revealed no abnormalities, or at least that is how the radiologist read it. Within a week my precious baby could no longer walk. Blood work ordered by his pediatrician thru my husband showed many abnormalities and I remember it seemed we were suddenly at Holtz Childrens Hospital, where he was sent for scans and a biopsy. My head was spinning, I didn’t understand, I was told to hope for Juvenile Arthritis but to pray for Leukemia. What? How could this be? He was fine a few days ago…….. He was running around with Sergio like a normal 4 year old……how could this be happening?????? I didn’t understand…… I still don’t understand……
On September 10, 2007 we were given the diagnosis of Stage IV Neuroblastoma cancer, with very little hope of survival. 20% chance to live 5 years they said…..can you imagine???? How could this be happening?????? The very next day my husband and I left our children with family and flew to New York City to Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, to the Neuroblastoma experts of the world. The rest, as they say…………….is history……
The following 3 & 1/2 years, in over 6 states, my baby went on to have 12 surgeries, over 55 cycles of chemotherapy, 50 rounds of radiation, and over 400 days of inpatient hospital stays. He went into renal failure several times and underwent numerous torturous toxic treatments. He had a scar from his original tumor resection surgery that reached from his mid back across to the front of his body down to his groin. Can you imagine your baby being split in half to remove something so lethal????? At only 4 years old?????
He coded and died on the table at one point in 2010 after an extremely toxic experimental treatment in Philly, he was intubated for two weeks but somehow miraculously survived. I was then given an extra 6 months to say goodbye. I did not know that at the time. I was sure God had to give him the cure we so desperately seeked after all he had just gone thru. I was so wrong. The following 6 months were mixed with happiness, pain, joy, and more pain & suffering until finally his little body could take no more and he died a very slow and agonizing death on March 19, 2011 at 12:10 pm, laying on my lap in Holtz Childrens ICU surrounded by all the people he loved and loved him. I watched my baby take his last breath and wished with all my being I was taking mine at the same time.
This is why I have a broken heart………………
This is why each day is an eternal struggle to survive…………
In my baby’s short 7 years he taught me the true meaning of LOVE, COURAGE and HOPE. We were never apart during his short time on earth. There were times I went 2 weeks without taking a shower so as not to leave his side. We slept together wrapped in each others love and comfort, whether it was in a hospital bed, his NY apartment, a hotel room near a hospital or our wonderful home, we spent every waking & sleeping moment TOGETHER. We fought this evil disease like noone has ever fought before.
Now I find my self alone, but not physically of course. I have my family…..a husband and 4 other beautiful children that I adore…… but my heart is broken. There is no longer the joy and happiness that once dwelled within me. I may smile and laugh but the darkness and emptiness within is always there. The void in my heart is overwhelming and will never ever be filled.
I look forward to the day my precious baby and I will be reunited and I now live each day for the signs he so regularly sends me. I am mad at God for taking him from me…….how could he do that when I was such a good Christian??? How could he punish me this way????? I lived a perfect Christian life, I taught Sunday School, I sent my kids to Christian school for 11 years, I prayed to God every single day of my life…….. How could he have made my baby suffer so???? How could he make me suffer like this for the rest of my life?????? How?????? Someday I may know the answer………….someday that could not come soon enough….
Until then……………I will forever…………….
Wake Up With A Broken Heart…….
Waking Up With A Broken Heart 
