There are days in the journey of a cancer warrior that feel like a steady climb, and then there are days that feel like a freefall. Today has been one of those days—an emotionally heavy, physically draining 24 hours that has tested the very limits of our resolve.
When you are fighting a battle this large, you expect the enemy to be the cancer. But sometimes, the battleground itself becomes the obstacle. Today, it wasn’t just the disease we were fighting; it was the very medicine designed to save Will’s life.
The Numbers That Changed Everything
In the world of high-dose chemotherapy, we live and die by the laboratory results. We have become accustomed to the “usual” fluctuations, the predictable dips and rises. But today, the numbers told a different story—a frightening one.
Will’s kidney and liver numbers have spiked higher than we have ever seen. In past treatments, his 24-hour methotrexate level usually sat around 32. Today, that number reached 77.
To the average observer, it’s just a number. To us, it was a siren. A level of 77 puts Will at a significantly greater risk for toxicity. High levels of methotrexate can be devastating if the body can’t flush them out quickly enough, and right now, Will’s creatinine levels are rising, showing that his kidneys—his primary filtration system—are struggling to keep up. They aren’t removing the medicine as they should, leaving the toxins to linger in his system longer than is safe.
The Race for the Rescue
The medical team moved with a sense of urgency that tells you everything you need to know about the seriousness of the situation. The on-call doctor contacted our primary oncologist, and together they made a critical call: Will needed a “rescue” medicine immediately to start clearing the methotrexate from his bloodstream and protect his organs from further damage.
But even in a world-class facility like Children’s, there are moments of logistical tension. They only had half of the required dose on hand. A request was immediately sent to UAB for the remainder of the medicine.
As we wait for that shipment to arrive and for the full dose to be administered, that medicine has become our focal point of hope. It is a crucial bridge—a way to protect his body while still keeping the fight against cancer alive. We are waiting on a miracle in a vial, praying that it arrives in time to do exactly what it was designed to do.
A Brave Spirit vs. A Weary Body
The most heartbreaking part of today hasn’t been the charts or the graphs; it’s been seeing the light in Will’s eyes flicker.
Will has been so incredibly strong mentally. He has faced things that would break most adults with a stoic, quiet courage. But today, his little body simply isn’t cooperating. You can see the frustration in him. You can see him getting discouraged as the fatigue and the nausea and the weight of these rising numbers settle on his shoulders.
Watching him get discouraged is a different kind of pain for a parent. We know his heart is brave. We know his spirit is a warrior’s spirit. But right now, the spirit is willing and the flesh is weary. It feels like we are walking a tightrope every single hour. On one side is the need to be aggressive enough to kill the cancer; on the other side is the need to keep Will safe from the very treatment that is supposed to heal him. It is a balancing act that requires the precision of a surgeon and the faith of a saint.
Fireworks in the Dark
And yet, in the middle of this high-stakes medical drama, there was a moment of surreal beauty.
As we sat in the hospital room, surrounded by monitors beeping and IV poles dripping, we realized we had “the best seat in the house” for the fireworks. As the colors exploded in the night sky outside our window, it felt like a message from above. A reminder that even when the storm is howling, there is still light. Even when the news is heavy, there is still beauty to be found.
We sat there together—holding onto hope, praying for that miracle medicine to do its work, and believing with everything we have that God’s hand is guiding the doctors, the couriers, and the medicine itself. We are in the middle of a storm, but we are not in the dark.
A Call for the Village
We need you now more than ever. We have always said it takes a village to carry a warrior, and tonight, the weight is heavy.
We are asking for specific, focused prayers:
- For Balance: Pray that the doctors find the perfect equilibrium between fighting the cancer and protecting Will’s organs.
- For Healing: Pray for Will’s kidney and liver numbers to plummet back to safe levels.
- For Strength: Pray for Will’s body to catch up to his incredible spirit. Pray that he doesn’t lose heart.
- For the Medicine: Pray that every drop of the rescue medicine from UAB works with divine precision, clearing the toxicity without harm.
Will is a fighter, but tonight, he needs his army to stand guard. Thank you for being that army. Thank you for sitting in the waiting room of our lives and holding us up when the tightrope feels too thin to walk.
God is in the room. The fireworks are a sign. We are not giving up.
Join the Prayer Shield:
The next few hours are critical as we wait for the levels to drop.
👇 DROP A “🙏” TO SHOW WILL HE HAS AN ARMY PRAYING FOR HIS MIRACLE TONIGHT.
#WillStrong #CancerWarrior #PrayerWarriors #FaithOverFear #UAB #ChildrensHospital #TheTightrope #MiracleMedicine #HoldTheLine
