From small beginnings come great things.

I have been staring at this blank blog post for hours, trying to come up with the words that could describe the last few days. Or the last few years.

I don't think there are any words, truly, but hopefully these will suffice for now.

Gabby was sleepy and blah last week. Similarly to two years ago, she was extra lethargic and cranky. We made an appointment for her to get blood work done on Friday, just in case.

Friday afternoon, the oncologist called me, and said Gabby's bilirubin levels were high, but it could be caused by the chemo.

"So, go ahead and stop the chemo. Yeah. So... you're done."

And that was it.

Otherwise, Gabby's blood work was normal, and... she's cancer free.

797 days of leukemia, over, in one phone call. Seems so anti-climatic.

It doesn't escape me, how incredibly lucky we are.

Yes, it was terrifying, and humbling, and every little ailment for her was blown out of proportion in our minds.  We spent more time cleaning up puke than I care to remember. We watched our other children struggle under the pressure or lack of focus from us. We fought to maintain some normalcy under some crappy circumstances.

But compared to so many other kids in her position, we had it easy. She never needed to be hospitalized after the initial diagnosis. She started school. She was free to go out and live her life.

Going forward, she'll still go to clinic once a month for blood work for the first year, then every other month for the second year, etc. She is scheduled for surgery next week to remove her port.

I wonder, sometimes, how much of this she'll remember. Obviously I'm hopeful that this is the end of the story, and she goes on to live a healthy, vibrant life, the chances are good that she'll experience some long-term effects. That's not pessimism, it's just the reality of the treatments she received. But if she does remember, I hope we've made the experience something she can draw something good from later.

That's a wrap, friends.