I took Bidlaire and his family to Smile Train this morning. The US surgeons and nurses looked at his shoulder and heard his history. They advised me to send him to General Hospital to have the arm amputated and to go to Hopital St Damien for follow-up chemotherapy. Then one of the docs pulled me aside.
"You understand all of this is just palliative, right?" he asked sympathetically. "If the arm is not amputated, the cancer is going to break open soon and be a disgusting mess, so bad that no one will go near the boy. So it needs to be amputated, but he is going to die."
In the car, as we drove away from the hospital, the boy's uncle and guardian turned to me.
"Miss Kez, everything you've done means a lot. And I want you to know that if things don't work out, it's not your fault. You did all you could."
I am glad that I was sitting behind Bidlaire so he couldn't see my eyes. They were full of tears.