In the early hours — at Ronald McDonald — before dawn broke, we faced a moment that tested our strength. The unbearable mattress, the sweltering heat, and Owen's relentless hunger hit us hard, a stark reminder of our situation. Owen's hunger wasn't just hunger—it was a side effect of his treatment, calling out to us at a time when everything else was silent. The pain, especially Mom's back pain, was a harsh reality check on how our early identified red flags affect our ability to look after Owen and ourselves.

After a night of tossing and turning, the idea of returning to The Residence Inn, with its comforting promise of normalcy and space for Owen to be a kid, pulled at us. Choosing to leave the Ronald McDonald House took more work. It was a battle of finances and emotions, juggling the guilt of going with the need for a space that could better meet our family's needs vs the free housing. Ultimately, we chose The Residence Inn, acknowledging that our well-being is deeply connected to our capacity to support Owen.

The morning routine with Owen was as hectic as ever, yet a bright spot came in the form of a generous housing offer from Steve Cettel and his mother, Jean Cettel. Moments like these, the kindness of friends and strangers, shine a light of hope on our difficult decisions, reminding us that being close to the hospital is crucial, especially taking in account Portland’s traffic weather-like patterns.

Arriving back at The Residence Inn, thanks to Nana Myrna's help, felt like a collective sigh of relief. It welcomed us back with open arms—a place for Dad to work, a kitchenette for Owen's endless appetite, and separate spaces for rest and play. Despite the financial strain, this move lifted a burden, allowing us to be fully present with Owen.

Our day was filled with simple pleasures: a hearty brunch Owen couldn't get enough of, laughter and playful teasing, and the comfort of being in a safe place amid the rough seas. Owen's laughter grew as the day went by, a testament to the resilience and joy that can coexist with struggle.

Yet, the journey could be smoother. The financial weight of our choice is a constant backdrop, a reminder of the sacrifices we make out of love and care. Owen's discomfort, especially from constipation, brought its own challenges, but his bright spirit broke through, even in moments of discomfort.

Today, we made the right choice for our mental and emotional health. It was complicated, but it reinforced the power of vulnerability and the courage to put our needs at the forefront of caring for Owen. We're deeply thankful for the OHSU’s support with Ronald McDonald despite having to make a different choice.

Looking ahead to tomorrow, we're heading back to the hospital early for Owen's first out-patience chemotherapy, facing the day with a mix of dread — as his PICC line will need a dressing change (which will surely bring cries) — and hope as we navigate the complexities of treatment and care, buoyed by love, resilience, and the support of our loved ones.

— Owen’s Parents