Baby Madrona has died, and her parents speak only of gratitude and peace.
“I never would have realized the abundance of love that surrounds us if this hadn’t happened,” Michelle Purvis-Fuentes said Wednesday.
She was referring to the whole journey, from the day last June when her daughter was diagnosed with cancer, to Monday’s end, when the little girl, just two years old, finally slipped away.
Likewise, husband Rafael Fuentes talked of the compassion of friends, family and hospital workers, of the total strangers who volunteered to rebuild the family’s toxic home.
Madrona Fuentes was 15 months old when the fevers began last May. They would come and go, come and go.
When the baby’s lips turned blue one day, Michelle took her to the ER at Victoria General — and suddenly found herself on a helicopter to Vancouver, where for the next eight months home for mother and daughter became a 12-by-12 room at B.C. Children’s Hospital. The diagnosis was acute myeloid leukemia. Madrona endured round after round of chemo, followed by a stem-cell transplant in October.
Typically, sadly, a family’s life is thrown into turmoil when a Vancouver Island child is hospitalized in the Lower Mainland. One parent, usually the mother, moves to Vancouver. If there are more kids to care for, the other parent quits work, too. Finances drain quickly.
So it was for Michelle, who had to give up running her daycare, and Rafael, who went on leave from his youth-corrections job. She stayed at B.C. Children’s while he shuttled back and forth with their then-four-year-old son.
Then came the crippling blow. Knowing Madrona’s immune system would be compromised once she came home, Rafael moved to replace mouldy windows and install a ventilation system in the family’s 1930s Victoria house. A contractor volunteered to help but found the mould was much worse than first thought. The house needed $200,000 worth of work. Father and son moved into a bachelor suite so that Rafael, aided by a brother from Nanaimo, could tackle the restoration himself.
Then the community stepped up. Rafael’s colleagues and Michelle’s running buddies threw fundraisers that helped pay both rent and mortgage. Friends picked up paintbrushes. Businesses pitched in; Rafael says he gives thanks to Bath Fitter whenever he turns on a tap, Van Isle when he opens a window. When the Home Depot sent in an army of pros to finish the job, it was like a baseball reliever closing out the game. Rafael calls it “the house that love built.”
The family got to move home at the end of February.
That should have been the fairy tale ending. At the beginning of that month, 100 days after her stem-cell transplant, Madrona had been given the all-clear, allowing mother and daughter to come home.
It was just a week later, though, that the terrible news came: Madrona had relapsed, was terminally ill.
Clinging to hope, the family turned to holistic medicine, a decision they believe bought them more, better time with Madrona (and something they wish hospitals would make part of their treatment protocols).
The real comfort came from being able to spend four months with Madrona back in their safe, worry-free house — no hospital equipment beeping, no cramped bachelor suite — thanks to those who gave so much.
“I just wish everybody had the same support we had,” Rafael says. “We know we’re not the only ones fighting adversity.”
That is true. It’s hard to think of Baby Madrona without thinking of Baby Molly, also age two, also battling leukemia way off in St. Jude’s Hospital in Memphis, Tenn. The recent posts from Molly’s father, Dave Campbell of Victoria, have been heartbreaking.
Then there are the others, the ones whose names we never learn. About 20 to 25 Vancouver Island children are diagnosed with cancer each year, the earth opening up under their families.
Madrona’s struggle is over. The beautiful little girl will suffer no more pain, which is why her parents speak of feeling peace not anger, of thankfulness not resentment.
“How blessed we are to be surrounded by so much love,” Michelle says. “We are forever grateful.”
