After the family doctor diagnosed Ryan in April, with aleukemic leukemia, and that he had only approximately 6 months to live. The fight was on.
He was so weak and fragile that the first thing I did was take him to Toronto General for a full assessment.
They sent him home. "sorry, can't find anything wrong". was the gist of it. yes he's weak, confused and is bed ridden. Tests came back negative they couldn't find anything. My mother's intuition didn't count. "My son is dying" I declared to anyone who would listen. The deaf ear of the medical establishment was listening hard. Tests were done. There was no leukemia...... but they couldn't say what it was. Ryan was sent home again.
The wheels started turning. I booked off work. There was an emergency brewing and I had to give it due diligence. In the ensuing months after eight visits to the hospital and a slew of tests, a diagnosis was finally arrived at. Cirrhosis of the liver, brought on by all the other meds he had to take for other medical conditions.
We had always known that this day was coming, like the sword of Damocles constantly over our heads, a shadow that followed us on every occasion. We had known that his transplanted liver would not go on forever. The day had dawned. The glare of knowing and awareness blinded us with tears and crippled us with pain.
Everything from that day forward revolved around Ryan and his health.