Wren's Song

Here is a music video of a Wren original, "No Me Bring My Pooh". In this version she accompanies herself with a seldom seen Ukrainian stringed instrument. This is a song Wren made up when she was singing me to sleep one afternoon. It's about how, on a trip to Vancouver,  Wren had not brought her stuffed Winnie the Pooh (but Chloe had brought hers). I guess it's a sort of lament. The lyrics are: No me bring my Pooh, No me bring my Pooh, Tonight, Long time ago. This video was filmed and directed by Paula a couple of days ago.

Inspired by a keyhole scarf we saw on Bowen Island, I knit Wren one for her birthday, and one for Paula for her birthday a few days later. Paula knit one for Chloe.

Wren's Song

Here is a music video of a Wren original, "No Me Bring My Pooh". In this version she accompanies herself with a seldom seen Ukrainian stringed instrument. This is a song Wren made up when she was singing me to sleep one afternoon. It's about how, on a trip to Vancouver,  Wren had not brought her stuffed Winnie the Pooh (but Chloe had brought hers). I guess it's a sort of lament. The lyrics are: No me bring my Pooh, No me bring my Pooh, Tonight, Long time ago. This video was filmed and directed by Paula a couple of days ago.

Inspired by a keyhole scarf we saw on Bowen Island, I knit Wren one for her birthday, and one for Paula for her birthday a few days later. Paula knit one for Chloe.

Last night Paula and Wren flew to Vancouver to be admitted at BC Children's Hospital for one week of antibody treatment. Chloe and I stayed behind so that she could continue with school and I could get a bit of work done.

Wren has been slowly building energy during the last three weeks. The past few days have been truly remarkable: she has been running all around the place and talking non-stop, full of jokes and funny games despite having the start of a cold. Last night Paula called from the hospital where they were getting settled in the cancer ward and Wren was still talk-talking away some time past 10:00 pm. They didn't sleep until midnight.

I am hoping that the antibody treatment will not set Wren back too far and that she is able to continue building when she returns home next Saturday morning.

Before they left on the plane, we had to change Wren's dressing, flush her lines with heparin, and administer an injection of GM-CSF (granular cell stimulating factor). These are painful procedures that most kids resist. Wren lay on the purple couch, her head on Chloe's lap, while I removed the old dressing and Paula cleaned Wren's CVC, the tubes that pass through her chest to her main veins. We all hovered lovingly around little Wren while she bravely tolerated the procedure. Paula carefully replaced the dressing and I flushed Wren's two lines with heparin, something we do twice a week. Then I cleaned Wren's encephalon (a subcutaneous port in her thigh) and injected the GM-CSF. She grimaced, but did not cry. Such a strong and brave little kiddo. I could tell that Chloe was deeply moved by Wren's pain tolerance. Then Wren asked "Dada, why you give me owie knee?" And I tried to explain that I was giving her medicine that would make her all better.  In a circle of dim light, we went through this painful ritual with quiet purpose, a moment filled with much love.

Last night Paula and Wren flew to Vancouver to be admitted at BC Children's Hospital for one week of antibody treatment. Chloe and I stayed behind so that she could continue with school and I could get a bit of work done.

Wren has been slowly building energy during the last three weeks. The past few days have been truly remarkable: she has been running all around the place and talking non-stop, full of jokes and funny games despite having the start of a cold. Last night Paula called from the hospital where they were getting settled in the cancer ward and Wren was still talk-talking away some time past 10:00 pm. They didn't sleep until midnight.

I am hoping that the antibody treatment will not set Wren back too far and that she is able to continue building when she returns home next Saturday morning.

Before they left on the plane, we had to change Wren's dressing, flush her lines with heparin, and administer an injection of GM-CSF (granular cell stimulating factor). These are painful procedures that most kids resist. Wren lay on the purple couch, her head on Chloe's lap, while I removed the old dressing and Paula cleaned Wren's CVC, the tubes that pass through her chest to her main veins. We all hovered lovingly around little Wren while she bravely tolerated the procedure. Paula carefully replaced the dressing and I flushed Wren's two lines with heparin, something we do twice a week. Then I cleaned Wren's encephalon (a subcutaneous port in her thigh) and injected the GM-CSF. She grimaced, but did not cry. Such a strong and brave little kiddo. I could tell that Chloe was deeply moved by Wren's pain tolerance. Then Wren asked "Dada, why you give me owie knee?" And I tried to explain that I was giving her medicine that would make her all better.  In a circle of dim light, we went through this painful ritual with quiet purpose, a moment filled with much love.

Wren Williston's New Blog

This blog describes Wren Williston's journey with neuroblastoma and will be updated from time to time as our story unfolds.

Wren was diagnosed with Stage 4 neuroblastoma on December 15th, 2009, exactly one month before her second birthday.  Within a few days  doctors determined that she had a large tumour associated with her adrenal gland on her left kidney. This diagnosis instantly changed lives of two-year old Wren, her four-year old sister Chloe, her mother Paula and father Patrick (me).

The year that has since passed has presented all kinds of challenges for the entire family, with many moments of despair and of intense happiness. Several of these moments have been recorded in irregularly posted email messages and on Facebook. Others notes have been written in letters and journals kept by Paula and myself. We will share many of these stories on this blog along with photographs, short videos and perhaps a few sound recordings of the girls.

We are deeply grateful for the support that we have received from family and friends, and the entire community of Smithers, BC, where we live. The care that we have received has been overwhelming, a vital example of the nurturing strength of community. Rather than into a void, our fall has been caught by many loving hands.

We always welcome words of encouragement to help us cope in these difficult times. 

Wren Williston's New Blog

This blog describes Wren Williston's journey with neuroblastoma and will be updated from time to time as our story unfolds.

Wren was diagnosed with Stage 4 neuroblastoma on December 15th, 2009, exactly one month before her second birthday.  Within a few days  doctors determined that she had a large tumour associated with her adrenal gland on her left kidney. This diagnosis instantly changed lives of two-year old Wren, her four-year old sister Chloe, her mother Paula and father Patrick (me).

The year that has since passed has presented all kinds of challenges for the entire family, with many moments of despair and of intense happiness. Several of these moments have been recorded in irregularly posted email messages and on Facebook. Others notes have been written in letters and journals kept by Paula and myself. We will share many of these stories on this blog along with photographs, short videos and perhaps a few sound recordings of the girls.

We are deeply grateful for the support that we have received from family and friends, and the entire community of Smithers, BC, where we live. The care that we have received has been overwhelming, a vital example of the nurturing strength of community. Rather than into a void, our fall has been caught by many loving hands.

We always welcome words of encouragement to help us cope in these difficult times.