In the high-stakes theater of a pediatric oncology ward, there are days that feel like a steady climb, and then there are days that feel like a freefall. Today was the latter. It has been an emotionally draining, bone-weary journey through a medical crisis that reminds us just how thin the line is between a life-saving treatment and a life-threatening complication.
Will Roberts, our brave warrior who has stared down cancer with a smile more times than most adults could imagine, is currently caught in a dangerous “balancing act.” While his mind remains a fortress of strength, his body is struggling to cooperate with the demands of a war that has grown increasingly brutal.
1. The Toxicity Crisis: A Race Against 77
Chemotherapy is, by its very nature, a poison used for good. But for it to work, the body must be able to process it, use it to kill the cancer, and then—crucially—flush it out. Methotrexate is one of the heaviest hitters in Will’s regimen. In all his past treatments, the highest his levels ever reached at the 24-hour mark was a 32. It was high, but it was manageable.
Today, that number didn’t just rise; it spiked to a terrifying 77.
This isn’t just a statistic on a chart; it is a siren blaring in the dark. A level of 77 puts Will at an extreme risk for systemic toxicity. His kidney and liver numbers have climbed alongside the methotrexate, signaling that his internal filtration systems are beginning to buckle under the weight of the medicine. His kidneys aren’t clearing the chemo as they should, allowing the drug to linger in his system where it can begin to damage his healthy organs instead of just the cancer.
2. The UAB Lifeline: A Mission for the Miracle Medicine
When the on-call doctor entered the room to explain the situation, the gravity of the moment was undeniable. We moved past the “standard” protocols and into the territory of “last resorts.”
The plan was to administer a medicine specifically designed to immediately deplete and flush the methotrexate from Will’s body before it could cause irreversible damage. However, the crisis took on a logistical urgency when we learned that Children’s Hospital only had half the required dose on hand.
In a moment that felt like a scene from a medical drama, an emergency request was sent to UAB (University of Alabama at Birmingham) to obtain the remainder of the dose. As we sit here in the quiet of the hospital room, we are waiting for that medicine to arrive. We are waiting for the “miracle flush” that will sweep the toxins from his blood and give his kidneys and liver the reprieve they so desperately need.
3. Fireworks Through the Glass: Beauty in the Storm
God has a way of providing small, breathtaking mercies exactly when the darkness feels most suffocating. While we were reeling from the news about his toxicity levels, and while the doctors were scrambling for medicine from UAB, the sky outside Will’s window suddenly exploded in color.
Because of our position in the hospital, we found ourselves in the “best seat in the house” to watch a massive firework display.
There is something profoundly symbolic about that moment. Inside the room, there is the hum of monitors, the smell of antiseptic, and the heavy tension of a medical emergency. But just outside the glass, there is light, celebration, and brilliance. It was a reminder to all of us—and especially to Will—that beauty exists even in the midst of the fight. As he watched those bursts of light, it was a momentary escape from the “prison camp” of his treatment, a reminder that the world is still wide and full of wonder.
4. The Discouraged Warrior: When the Body Falters
The hardest part of today hasn’t been the numbers or the needles; it has been watching Will’s spirit wrestle with his physical limitations. Will’s mindset is incredibly strong. He wants to fight. He wants to be the “warrior” everyone sees in him. But today, he felt discouraged.
It is a heart-wrenching thing to watch a 14-year-old boy realize that his will alone cannot fix his kidney function. He feels as though his body is “failing” the fight, when in reality, his body is simply exhausted from months of combat. We have spent the day trying to remind him that resting is part of fighting, and that his only job right now is to hold on while the doctors and the medicine do the heavy lifting. This balancing act—keeping the spirit high while the body is low—is perhaps the most difficult part of the entire cancer journey.
5. The Road Ahead: The Methotrexate Dilemma
The decision to use the depleting medicine is a double-edged sword. While it saves his organs from toxicity, it also means the methotrexate will be less effective at fighting the cancer cells it was intended to kill.
This is the “hard balancing act” the doctors are navigating. They are trying to kill the cancer without killing the host. Because Will’s liver had shown no issues in the past, the oncologist made the call to go ahead with the depletion to protect his long-term health. We aren’t sure what this means for his remaining chemo doses, as methotrexate was supposed to be a primary component. We are taking it one hour at a time, trusting that the experts will find a new path forward once this immediate crisis has passed.
6. A Call to the Prayer Warriors
Tonight, we aren’t just asking for general prayers; we are asking for specific, focused intercession.
- Pray for the Medicine: That the dose from UAB arrives quickly and that it works perfectly to flush the methotrexate without further stressing his system.
- Pray for the Kidneys and Liver: That they would begin to function normally and that his creatinine levels would drop immediately.
- Pray for Will’s Heart: That the discouragement would lift. Pray that he feels the strength of the thousands of people standing behind him.
- Pray for the Doctors: For wisdom in balancing the “kill the cancer” mission with the “protect the patient” reality.
Will sat by the window tonight and watched the fireworks. Those sparks of light represent our hope—brief, bright, and defiant against the dark. We are waiting for the miracle. We are waiting for the balance to be restored.
👇 Please, leave a word of encouragement for Will. He needs to know that even when his body is tired, his army is still marching. Tell him you’re watching the “fireworks” of his recovery with him.
