Carrick Fox

The stomach bug had been going around. My three older children had it, so I thought nothing of it when my 7-year-old joined their ranks. As days turned into weeks, and two trips to our family practice showed no improvement in his symptoms, we found ourselves at Upstate Golisano Children’s Hospital on May 6th, 2024. Fully expecting he had a bad stomach bug or gallbladder issue, we were surprised when the next day, our tired, hungry, sad little boy was in surgery to resect his bowels and remove his appendix.

Afterwards we thought the worst was behind us, but that turned out not to be the case. May 8th was a blur. I have a mental snapshot of the pediatric surgeon standing in the hallway, but I cannot remember her exact words. She said a biopsy from surgery showed Carrick had a form of B-cell lymphoma called Burkitt’s lymphoma, which in its sporadic form is fairly rare and very aggressive. We learned a fast and intensive protocol produced relatively high cure rates.

We had no idea what to do, what questions to ask, or how to even get through the day.

The medical team at Upstate Golisano went into action immediately. By the end of the day, we had been moved from the surgery unit to the Hematology/Oncology unit, met with the head of pediatric oncology, and a plan for the next day was formed. 

Carrick spent nearly 60 nights in the hospital between May 6th and August 3rd. He endured multiple surgeries, injections, CT scans, X-rays, PET scans, IVs, PICC lines, 27 days of multiple IV chemo drugs, mouth sores, painful dressing changes, a reopened surgical incision, IV nutrition, drains, lumbar punctures and blood transfusions. His young body endured more treatment in three months than most people experience in a lifetime.

We watched our baby, so scared from illness and painful procedures, remain incredibly brave through it all. I still cry thinking of his tiny, pale, skinny body lying on that hospital bed, quietly accepting his treatment. 

Our small community of Cazenovia held us up. Close friends and family cared for our children. My mother-in-law retired early and moved into our home. Those around us, even strangers, showed up to help care for our home, finish projects and tend to our farm animals. Meals were delivered not only for our children but also my elderly parents. 

After an ultrasound, CT scan, and PET scan in August, Carrick rang the remission bell. He was surrounded by nurses, doctors, friends, co-workers, and family. We all cried out of relief, happiness, exhaustion, and gratitude. 

Early on we were provided with a backpack from Paige’s Butterfly Run with important goods and toiletries. We were told Paige’s would help us financially as well, which we weren’t even thinking about as there is no price you can put on your child’s life. 

Both my husband and I have decent jobs and good health insurance. We are thankful for the support of small business owners with big hearts who continued to pay us even though we were only able to work remotely part-time. To date, our insurance company has reported $1.5 million in medical claims for Carrick’s care. On top of that we vastly underestimated the cost of gas and eating out during his nearly 60 days of inpatient care. Friends and family helped cover expenses, while charities like Paige’s stepped in to ease the burden. I don’t know how we could have done this without their help. 

Our journey isn’t over. Remission still means monthly doctor’s visits, medications, and diagnostic tests and we’ll always feel a twinge of anxiety that a common stomach bug could mean the cancer has returned or that chemotherapy caused irreversible damage to his small body. We will never be the same.