My eyes welled up with tears. My grandbaby was dying. She has fought the Leukemia for two years now. She has been stronger than anyone I have ever met. Her life has not been easy. Her dad left her mom before she was born. He was never around. Her mom killed herself when Faith was two. Faith was diagnosed with Leukemia a few months after. Her mother never left a will, and her father never came forward to claim her. I am glad he did not. I got custody of Faith, and I haven’t left her side since. Now in her time of need all I could do was stand outside her room and wait. I was not allowed in the room. They were putting needles into her arms, trying to get fluids into her body. No matter how sick she was, she could still feel the pain. Faith’s face lit up with agony, and tears welled up in her eyes. She screamed for me. All I could do was watch. I wanted so much to run into the room and rip the needles out of her arms, but I knew they were helping.
I was too tired to move away from the window, and something else held me there. The events of the last day were bouncing around in my mind. I wondered if there was anything I could have done, anything I could have noticed, anything that could have prevented this.
Yesterday was Faith’s fourth birthday. She looked so pretty even though she had no hair. Her eyes were glowing, and her smile lit up the room. She seemed fine yesterday. It seemed as though the Chemotherapy was working, and I assumed she would be in remission soon. It was all an act Faith put on though. The doctors told me that she had a major relapse yesterday.
This morning I went upstairs to wake her. I opened her door, and saw Faith on her bed. She was sweating profusely. I took her temperature and it read 102.9. I was devastated. I immediately rushed her to the Hospital. They told me that because of the Chemotherapy Faith’s white blood count was drastically low. They explained to me that one of the children at her birthday party yesterday must have had pneumonia in his system and somehow he transferred it to Faith. All this time she had spent fighting the cancer, beating the cancer, was for nothing. She was dying because some careless mother let her child come to the party even though he was sick!
I am so mad because I feel so bad. Faith is such a fighter, and I know she would have beaten this cancer too. I wish I could trade places with Faith. She is taking on to much for only a four year old. My poor baby!
As I turned my attention back to Faith, I could see the tears drying on her cheeks. She looked so scared. One of the doctors came out of the room.
“Faith is fighting for her life Mrs. Link. They say if she makes it to the morning it will be nothing short of a miracle.” The doctor placed his hand on my shoulder, as if he were offering his condolences. Tears immediately fell from my eyes. I began to sob. The tears came like a flood. The doctor embraced me warmly. I could tell he sincerely hoped that Faith would make it. He pulled himself away, and began walking away. Then he turned around and spoke words of pure love.
“Faith’s middle name is Caden. Faith is a fighter. Faith will not give up. Faith gives me hope, and if she doesn’t come out of this I will be surprised.” The doctor believed in her more than I did. I felt ashamed for crying. I knew Faith was a fighter. I just didn’t understand why her middle name was important.
“Doctor, wait!” I yelled as I caught up to him. He turned around and faced me. “Why does her middle name have anything to do with the situation?” The doctor looked at me as though I were missing something obvious.
“Her middle name is Caden. Caden means fighter. Your granddaughter is a Faithful Fighter.” He smiled and walked away. I stood there in amazement. I never realized how true her name was. She was the very essence of her name.
I turned around and walked back to her room. I starred in the window as the last doctor left the room. I was then allowed to go in. When I entered the room I saw my faithful fighter with tubes everywhere. She was asleep. I realized then that she wasn’t going to give up. I sat down on the chair next to her bed, and took her hand in mine. Her hand was cold and almost lifeless. I whispered a sincere promise into her ear. I told her I was going to be right here until she was better. I could feel the tears coming again but I pushed them back. I was at a loss for words. I had nowhere to turn. I was never a godly lady or anything, but I had nowhere else to go. I bowed my head and squeezed Faith’s hand.
“God, I do not know how to pray. I do not know what to say, but what I do know is that my grandbaby is dying. God I do not know how to ask this, but please help Faith. She is only four; she can not beat this by herself. I will make a deal with you. If you heal my baby I will go to church every week. I will believe. Please God, I am begging you.” I finished my prayer, and at that moment I felt almost relieved.
For the next week I sat by Faith. She awoke the day after I prayed. She continued getting better, and by the seventh day they took out all her breathing tubes. I watched them take the tubes out. I cried hysterically when she could breathe without the tubes. Faith is now thirteen years old. We go to church every week and we have both accepted Jesus. Faith beat the Leukemia and has been in remission for four years now. I thank God everyday for her.