Teddy Rodd

Teddy, U14 rider and brother of Nano, has been going through yet another round of Chemo and battling with cancer. Below is his dad’s latest post. To help out or receive updates(they travel to Denver once a month to get five days straight of chemo so they could use help with gas money, etc.) go to www.teamteddy.net

Not sure of much, but…

Dec 10, 2013 9:32pm

Chemo by mouth at home sounded like a grand idea.

Just five days.

Three pills at bedtime.

First night, Teddy shakes a capsule with great suspicion. He mockingly peers deep into its core looking for something slimy, “You sure about this?”

What can we say?

We’re not sure about much these days.

He tilts his head back in pure Teddy drama, “Here goes one grenade down the hatch!”

Second night, I’m wishing for the infusion bag.

Pale faced and on the couch by then.

With the infusion bag, he gets chemo from the metal rolling hanger with spindly tubes and needles.

They’re the culprit.

With the capsules, it comes straight from mom and dad.

One toxic grenade after another.

We’re not even supposed to touch the stuff.

Arrives in a dark, glass bottle.

The next week is spent completely wiped out in bed with an appetite for zero.

Zero food, liquid and fun…with the exception of when Aunt Karen or Cousin Caleb drops in from up the hill.

Pill by pill we seemed to lose our Teddy.

His spirit completely broken and docile; realizing that this will be one long, eighteen month haul.

Last night he lounged solemnly in bed adorned with a camping headlamp.

Reading King David’s Psalms.

Psalms of despair, trust and hope in the midst of the unseemly.

One after another.

“Want me to rub your feet, Bugga?”

“Sure, but I might kick you in the face. You know, blood everywhere.”

Imagine teenage smirk on face.

“You’re turning down a foot rub? That’s stupid. I’ll take my chances.”

He smiles benignly.

Starting to soften and feel somewhat whole.

Cracking Teddy jokes.

Soon after, I gently prodded, “We need to sleep, Bugga.”

I slowly started to pull his Bible from his tight grasp. He fought back and fiercely curled around it in a tight ball.

Never letting go.

Desperately hanging on.

Still somehow, by fierce faith, sure of God’s goodness in this journey.

Quietly wept ourselves to sleep.

This morning was supposed to be his first day back at school.

Didn’t work out.

He hid out in the car.

Maybe will try again tomorrow.

Back on the ranch, we needed to offload Ziggy, our sweet paint mare, and Waffles, our braying burro.

Sad to see them go.

Ears, noes and eyes flickering through the slit panels of the horse trailer as they rolled away.

Seemingly not sure of much.

But happy to leave “together” to their new home.

A wonderful home with dear friends just across the valley.

The Elk are bedded down below. Spindly legs, lethargic from pawing away the crusty snow, yet they can scale a Colorado mountain in a heart beat.

Phantoms in the frosty mist.

Their bellies full of freezing grass.

It’s below zero out there.

On the other end of the wild kingdom, Henri, our cow pug, is on the outside terrace looking in.

Blind as a bat.

Smooshed nose frozen up against the glass.

A wreath of fog fanning out from his twitching, bubble-eyed face. Waiting patiently to be let in to the warmth of our wood stove.

Not sure of much.

Rather confident though that “together” inside by the fire, is far better than outside down in the valley with the spindly things…