My son, Cordell, was diagnosed with stage IV neuroblastoma at just nine months old. We were blessed with an incredible team of providers and nurses at one of Oregon’s children’s hospitals who walked us through one of the hardest seasons of our lives. Watching my child undergo cancer treatment forever changed me and it gave me deep empathy and compassion for families, no matter what health journey they’re walking. Today, Cordell is 17 years old, cancer-free, and thriving. Something I never take for granted.
When my son was born, I was told what every parent longs to hear — he’s perfect. Every check-up confirmed it. He met milestones early, was playful, and full of life and happiest baby ever! For the first eight months, everything felt exactly as it should.
And then, something changed.
Around eight and a half months old, he became increasingly irritable and uncomfortable. He wanted to be held constantly. We assumed teething, tried every trick we knew, and did our best to soothe him — but the only thing that brought him comfort was being strapped to me in a front carrier 24 hours a day. I was exhausted, but more than that, I knew in my gut something wasn’t right.
We took him to his nine-month pediatrician visit, and my that’s when my world flipped upside down. I told his doctor that something felt wrong — and I will forever be grateful that he listened. He had lost weight since his prior appointment and looking back on the picture the day of the appointment. How could I have not known. He was pale. He had dark circles under his eyes and his vibrant smile was gone.
What happened next was a whirlwind. His doctor felt his tummy and said we need to go have an ultrasound done today as he could feel something that wasn’t normal. I called my husband melting down so he left work and rushed to meet me for the ultrasound appointment.
April 1st will never be just another date for me. While others are cracking jokes on April Fool’s Day, I wake up and pause every year, take a deep breath…hold it, and thank God I still have my son. That was diagnoses day.
After the ultrasound, the technician could only say, “Please don’t leave the hospital until your pediatrician contacts you.” As parents, we knew — something was very wrong. We were sent to the emergency department, where everything unraveled quickly. My son’s blood pressure was dangerously high. Doctors were calling the transport team from Portland, even discussing Life Flight, fearing he could have a stroke. Scans, blood work, and urgent conversations followed, it was all a blur. Eventually, the Doernbecher transport team arrived. But one thing I will never forget is my son’s pediatrician staying by our side until we left — a quiet act of compassion that still means everything to me.
The ambulance ride from Eugene to Portland in the early morning darkness was agonizing. They had to pull over multiple times because his blood pressure was so high it couldn’t be read by automated machines — it had to be taken manually which required them to stop to hear. That drive marked the beginning of a new reality as we headed toward a team called oncology.
Because of how unstable he was, we were admitted directly to the ICU. He was closely monitored as doctors worked to understand the massive tumor filling his abdomen and just how sick his body truly was. More scans, bloodwork, medications, and him laying so still for a baby that was weeks ago was happily trying to crawl, giggling, and playful. We met so many doctors, nurses and medical team members that was hard to keep them all straight. Stage four they said…it’s in his bone marrow too. The tumor is completely engulfing one kidney and we need to do surgery but it is very risky. We’re taking him in the morning to remove his kidney and see if we can get some of the pressure off the other one to bring his blood pressure down. I needed to know and look the surgeon right in the eyes and asked what are the chances he doesn’t come out of the OR?
He looked at me and said it’s very risky and there’s a good chance that could happen. The tumor has a lot of blood supply and we’re for sure not keeping one of the kidneys. All I could do at that moment was collapse on the floor, what choice did I have? As a parent experiencing something like this, we put our full trust in a team of medical providers who walk this walk before and have made it their life‘s passion to get kids through this. But more than trusting in a medical team I trusted in a God who is loving, merciful and compassionate. I truly believe He is the reason I still have a son. The amount of prayer warriors that stood next to us and fell on their knees, asking for a miracle for my son still humbles me to this day.
As 8 AM drew closer, the time of his surgery, all I could do was give it to God. It was out of my hands. Then in walked a man who said with a calm voice…”surgery is off.” It was too risky and he wanted to start chemotherapy first. It wasn’t without many risks of its own, but he felt like that was a safer option for my son.
I took a breath for the first time since the surgery plan was made. I knew and trusted that this was God‘s plan and not mine. Everything that happened from that moment on could only be explained as a miracle. It definitely didn’t come without a lot of tears, struggle, heartache, and challenges, but through it all I felt a calm and peace like nothing I’ve experienced before.
The man who came in to tell us surgery was off quickly became my favorite person. His name was Dr. Thomas… Like Thomas the train my son‘s favorite toy for years to come after that. He’s so graciously guided out family through the decisions we made throughout his treatment.
The first few weeks were the hardest as we stayed in the ICU waiting for the poison we just injected in my son’s veins to do its job and destroy the tissue of a tumor that was trying to take his life. They left us in the ICU expecting his little body to have issues getting rid of all of the waste as the tumor was destroyed. They call it tumor lysis syndrome. And he was at a huge risk for it because of how big the tumor was and how much was in his bone marrow.
So we waited, waited for him to get sicker. Waited for her things to get worse. Waited for what doctors expected. But that’s not what happened. Every day that went by from that first initial dose somehow made him feel better. And while it was so amazing to watch him come to life again the struggle is very real when it comes to keeping a baby who’s feeling better and more mobile from being tangled in all the wires and iv lines. So the day came where they said you’re headed up stairs to 10 south, the cancer floor, as clearly your son is too well to be in the ICU. A moment of joy followed by a moment of humility. Leaving the ICU felt good but now having to become part of a world no mom could imagine and joining the many other families on the cancer floor was our new reality.
Months of chemotherapy followed, mostly as planned, with a few moments of divine intervention and switching of plans.. Hospital stays, isolation during low counts, and countless scans and sedations, prayer warriors surrounding us every step. So many sedations in fact that that we had a favorite sedation nurse who would fight to have him anytime we had a procedure scheduled. And yes, we still have a stuffed puppy named Michelle after her. Even 15 years later!
Eventually, we reached surgery again. Everything looked great except his blood pressure. They were suspicious that all of the dead tumor material around his kidney and the vessels were causing his blood pressure to stay high. So the goal was to remove as much as possible as safely as possible… But this time we didn’t have to take the kidney!
And it worked better than anyone could’ve ever imagined. God is so gracious! He came out of the OR and we waited to see what his blood pressure would do. And we waited…still normal. We left the hospital with our usual guidance of continue to check his blood pressures at home but this time no meds. And from that day forward, his blood pressure remained normal without medications. His heart that was enlarged from doing all of the extra work slowly made its way back to normal, and his body recovered from all it had been through.
Every check up along the way we held our breath, and God was gracious. No signs that it was returning. The appointments got spaced farther and farther, and then came the day where they transfer you to survivorship.
While he remembers very little, the journey shaped me forever.
My Name is Vanessa and I am a pediatric nurse practitioner, wellness provider, and most importantly, a mom to a childhood cancer survivor
Walking through cancer treatment as a parent profoundly shaped who I am. Watching my child endure something so difficult instilled in me a deep empathy and compassion for families, no matter what health journey they are facing. That experience sparked a calling to help others, especially children and families navigating illness and recovery.
That calling led me back to school to earn my nursing degree, and later my nurse practitioner degree. Eventually bringing my journey full circle when I found myself working on the same hospital floor where my son was treated, caring for families facing the road we once walked.
Through my years serving in the hospital setting, I developed a growing passion for supporting the body,. Not just fighting disease, but helping restore, protect, and strengthen the body from the inside out. I saw firsthand how depleting illness and treatment can be, and how much support families need on the other side.
Through my training in functional and wellness-based care, I’ve been blessed to work with a science-backed biotech tool that allows us to look at how well the body is protected from damage at a cellular level. What I love most is that it’s quick, non-invasive, and fun, making it approachable for both kids and adults.
With these experiences and passions coming together, I’m excited to be opening my own wellness-based family centered pediatric practice in the Corvallis area this year too! Where the focus is on prevention, restoration, and health. I truly believe it’s time we look at health in a whole new light. One rooted in compassion, healing and prevention.