There is a sound that every family fighting cancer learns to cherish above all others: the sound of a heavy hospital door clicking shut—from the outside.
Yesterday, Will “broke free.” After five long, grueling nights confined within those sterile walls, he finally stepped out into the world again. For a teenager who has spent far too much of his youth breathing processed air and staring at fluorescent lights, that first step onto the pavement was more than just a discharge—it was a resurrection. It felt like a collective breath that our entire family has been holding for days was finally released.
But as any warrior knows, leaving the battlefield for a moment of rest doesn’t mean the war is over. It just means the final stand is about to begin.
The Road to MD Anderson: A Journey of Miles and Mercy
Next week, our journey takes us on a path we’ve walked many times, but never with this much weight. We are headed to MD Anderson.
Timing is a cruel master in the world of oncology. Because of the way his treatment schedule falls, Will’s immune system and blood counts are expected to be at their absolute lowest on the very day we need to travel. In a perfect world, we would board a quick flight to Houston. But in a world where a common cold can become a life-threatening crisis for Will, a commercial flight is a risk we simply cannot take.
So, we will take the long road. Hundreds of miles. Hours of asphalt. We are choosing the slow path to ensure his safety, praying for protection over every mile of the highway. There is something symbolic about this drive; it mirrors the journey itself—long, exhausting, but moving steadily toward a destination of healing.
The Specificity of Hope: Three Prayers for Three Miracles
We are often asked how people can help. Right now, the help we need most is focus. We are asking our “small village” to join us in three very specific, very bold prayers as we face the orthopedic oncology surgeons:
- The “All-Clear”: We are praying for the surgeon to look at the scans and see nothing but victory. We need that “all-clear” to signal that the surgical site is healthy and ready for the next phase.
- The Fusion: We are praying that his bone has fully fused. For Will to regain his mobility and strength, that structural integrity is everything. We are asking for a miracle of biology—that what was broken and reconstructed is now solid and whole.
- The Prosthetic Doorway: This is the prayer that brings tears to our eyes. We are praying that this visit opens the door to begin the prosthetic process. For Will, a prosthetic isn’t just a medical device; it is hope taking physical form. It is the ability to stand tall again, to walk back into his life, and to leave the wheelchair behind in the dust of this past year.
The “Prison Camp” and the Final Two
Will has a name for the hospital stays that have consumed his life: the “prison camp.” It’s a harsh term, but it’s an honest one. It represents the loss of autonomy, the constant poking and prodding, and the isolation from his friends and his bed at home.
The good news? There are only two treatments left. Two.
After months of “the long road,” we can finally see the finish line. It’s not just a speck on the horizon anymore; it’s right there. We are entering the final two weeks of what we believe will be the end of this chapter. We are making a final stand against the cancer that tried to steal his leg, his spirit, and his future. We are believing with everything in us that these last two pushes will be the final exclamation point on his victory.
The Fuel in Our Tank
To our friends, our family, and the strangers who have become our prayer warriors: Thank you. When we say we feel your love, it is not a cliché. We feel it in the moments when we are too tired to drive another mile. We carry it in the quiet hours of the night when the “what ifs” try to creep in. Your messages, your whispered prayers, and your constant check-ins are the fuel in our tank. You are the reason we can look at a 10-hour drive and a grueling chemo schedule and say, “We can do this.”
We are not just a family of four; we are part of a massive, beautiful village that refuses to let us fall.
The Finish Line
Will is tired. His body has been pushed to the absolute limit. But his spirit? His spirit is iron. He is a warrior who has endured the “Red Devil,” the surgeries, the mucositis, and the fevers. He has looked “the prison camp” in the eye and refused to break.
As we pack the car for MD Anderson and prepare for the final chemo rounds, we do so with a sense of holy expectation. The road has been long, and the price has been high. But the finish line is waiting. And when Will crosses it, he won’t be walking alone—he’ll be carried by the prayers of everyone who ever believed in him.
The end of this chapter is coming. The victory is near. We keep going.
Join the Final Stand:
If you’ve been following Will’s journey, help us flood his feed with strength today. The finish line is in sight, but the last few miles are often the hardest.
#WillStrong #CancerWarrior #MDAndersonBound #TheFinalStand #ProstheticHope #FinishTheFight #GodIsGood #TheLongRoad
