Tristan's Courage

I'd like to share the story of Tristan's photo, which we call "Tristan's Courage".  Tristan was diagnosed with Ewings Sarcoma the first time when he was 10 years old. We watched Tristan and his family endure over a year of hell. He was given adult dosages of the harshest chemotherapy. During the first few months he couldn't catch a break. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong.  It was a horrible year. 

Tristan lost the lower part of his leg. As parents and adults, we knew the amputation would literally save his life. Can you imagine giving the surgeons the OK to take your son's lower leg? Sadly, some of you know all about decisions like that. But did Tristan understand that an amputation would save him? I wonder about it sometimes, especially when I see this priceless photo.

One of the bravest moments I have ever witnessed was the walk Tristan made to the operating room. His last walk with both of his legs. He didn't look back. I know he was terrified. Even now there are times when he mourns for the loss of his limb. And yet he took that unimaginable walk. That is courage at its finest.

I carry this picture with me always. I have shown it to people so many times, because his courage is inspiring.  I asked Tristan if I could borrow some of his courage, and it worked. I was getting a knee replacement later that year. I showed every single person that I came in contact with at the hospital his picture, and told them about my favorite Superhero. And every time I told his story, we cried together. I thought of Tristan when they asked me to stand up for the first time. I looked at Tristan's picture when it seemed like the pain medicine was not coming fast enough. And I thought of that picture during physical therapy, when I wanted to quit. 

I wish all of you could meet him in person. He and his older brother, Tanner, are extraordinary boys. Tristan is a wise old soul with a great sense of humor and a beautiful, tender heart.

He survived that battle, but not without battle scars. He lost fellow superheroes along the way. We still miss them. He lost the innocence of an 11-year-old boy. He had to learn to walk again on a prosthetic leg. We all rejoiced when we saw him walk on his new leg for the first time. 

One of my favorite memories was when Tristan was getting better, and suddenly there was a shadow of hair growing on his head. I think everybody wanted to touch that precious peach fuzz. It was a miracle when Tristan started smiling without pain in his eyes.

I believe the second time around it is even harder to face Ewings Sarcoma. Tristan remembers the lowest of low points. He knows it's going to get much worse before it gets better. Please pray for Tristan and his family as they fight their second battle with cancer. And if you get the chance, show people this photo, and tell Tristan's story. It's a real life story of a true Superhero.

The Middle School Mile

One day I was taking pictures of Tristan and his friends playing basketball. Later, I started editing the photos, and saw that sometimes Tristan's prosthetic leg landed in a slightly different direction. I realized that as he was jumping and keeping up with the rest of the boys, the prosthetic leg had been moving around. I couldn't imagine how Tristan could play that well with his foot landing in different positions. I wouldn't have even noticed it if I hadn't been editing his photos. 

   

When I told Tiffany, she said, "Yeah, Tristan keeps wearing them out." I was astonished. "Which reminds me," Tiffany said. "I need to tell you about the Middle School Mile." 

A few days before I took the pictures, Tristan came home limping. When Tiffany asked him if he was in pain, he shrugged. Tiffany could tell that he was discouraged, and sat down to find out what was wrong. 

Tristan told her that he had just run a mile at school. All of the students had to run a mile that day. Now this is the part of the story that always makes me cry. Tristan could have told his teacher that he couldn't run a mile. He could have left school early. He could have brought a note from his mom,excusing him from class. Instead, Tristan ran the mile. He later said "Mom, it took me seven minutes to run a mile in gym. I'm slow." 

When all of the other kids in class had finished the mile, Tristan was half-way done. Everyone watched as Tristan finished the run. Can you imagine the courage that it must have taken for him to even attempt to run a mile in a prosthetic leg that moved each time it hit the ground, and was a little too short? Keep in mind that Tristan wore out the first prosthetic leg in less than a month. He was pushing himself hard enough to wear out nine legs, it was obvious he was working them as hard as he could. 

I'm sure he was very aware of the other students as he made his way around the track. But Tristan did not quit. "All men have fears, but those who face their fears with dignity have courage as well." (Thomas S. Monson) Tristan is the bravest person I know.  

The Middle School Mile will always be a reminder of Tristan's courage, perseverance, and grace. I asked him once if I could borrow some of his courage, and he said an enthusiastic yes. I took a favorite picture of him with me, and every time I felt fear or pain, I thought of the toughest kid I know. I remembered how he has handled every hurtle with dignity. He has suffered more in his short life than most people do in a lifetime. He will always be my favorite Superhero. 

Tristan's Courage

I'd like to tell you about my favorite Superhero, Tristan Chidester. He is ten years old. Tristan is a maniac when it comes to sports. He and his brother, Tanner, used to be two miniatures of Indiana Jones. They could always be seen running through the neighborhood catching bugs, ponies, balls, kids, and flying saucers. Ok, I made up the flying saucers part. But if any kid could catch a flying saucer, it would be Tristan Chidester.

Tristan and Tanner are a year apart, but they are like twins. They mirror each other in unique ways, because they are so opposite in their personalities. I've loved having a camera at hand over the years just to capture the many different crazy-fun things they've done. They have brought me so much joy.

It's funny how you can remember exactly what you were doing when you receive devastating news. Tiffany called to say that they were on their way to Primary Children's Hospital because Tristan had what looked to be a tumor in his foot. And in her voice I heard what she already knew. Tristan had cancer. Being the extraordinary boy that he is, Tristan didn't get your everyday cancer (if there is such a thing?). He was diagnosed with a very rare type of bone cancer. Ewing's Sarcoma. I find it funny how one can hate two little words. But I do hate those words.

Before we knew it, Tristan was getting chemotherapy treatments. And all of a sudden he was thrust in to the world of cancer in the worst way. He could not catch a break. Every worst scenario happened those first few weeks. And yet Tristan fought like a tiger. Tiffany sent pictures of a sweet boy with his thumbs up. Then Tiff had to drop the second bomb. Tristan's leg would have to be amputated below the knee. We had heard it would be a possibility, but suddenly it was a sure thing, and a date was being set. I think all of us fell apart, except for Tristan. I'll never forget being at a birthday party for Chris, Tristan's dad. Rather than moping around, Tristan ran around with the rest of the kids on a foot that I can only imagine had to be in pain. In fact, he was outside playing golf with Chris.

Was Tristan scared? He was terribly frightened, extremely sad at the thought of losing a limb. But Tristan is wise for his young age. He has a way of seeing the big picture. Tristan chose life. There were days before the surgery that he would cry. It was only right that he would mourn. And yet he was still so brave. Tiffany and Chris also showed compassion and courage. They took their beautiful sons on a vacation to Newport Beach and Disneyland before the surgery. They gave their children a much needed break before the next big hurdle, and gave Tristan and Tanner a chance to breathe, bond, and enjoy the healing sounds of the endless waves.

July 4th was the day before Tristan's surgery. Tiffany asked me to take some family pictures. I was afraid. Would they be sad? Could I be cheerful for them? I knew that all of them would be thinking about what was happening the next day. How could they help it? But that little family amazed me once again. We went to the Cove in Herriman with Tristan's Auntie Tineil. I. Had. So. Much. Fun. They weren't depressed or gloomy. Tristan, Tanner, Tiffany and Chris were hugging and loving each other. They were appreciating each other and playing together. It was a magical moment in time that I will never forget.  I love the Chidester Family so much.

I didn't sleep that night. I'm sure most of us who love Tristan did not get much sleep. In fact, I didn't rest until Grandpa Rick called to say the surgery was over and that everything went great. The first person that Tristan asked for was Tanner. Just like twins. Tiffany sent me a picture of Tristan. I saw that picture and burst out bawling. She posted it on Facebook and hundreds of us cried. 

 Why did we cry? Because a ten-year-old boy walked to his surgery. Tiffany said that they were getting him prepared for the amputation, and his lip trembled a little bit. When they came to tell the Chidesters that they were ready for Tristan, Tiffany asked him if he needed a minute. Tristan said no, and that brave boy walked with his head held high, and he didn't look back. I don't know if I've ever seen anything so courageous as that walk. People who don't even know the Chidesters have shared his picture on Facebook. Tristan is teaching so many of us what courage means.

John Wayne said "Courage is being scared to death - but saddling up anyway." Tristan saddles up every single day. He goes out to play basketball on crutches. He falls down and picks himself up again. He pulls himself up and down stairs. He endures phantom pains. He endures the pain and sickness from continued chemotherapy. He fights endless fevers while doctors struggle to find out what is causing them, and waits to catch a break again. Last week when I went to visit him, Tristan had just gone to be measured for a prosthetic leg. He can't wait for the real deal. I'm so proud of him. And Tristan has taught me so many things. Patience. Enduring gracefully. Acceptance. Faith. Gratitude. And I'm trying to be brave like Tristan.

Monday I am having a knee-replacement surgery. The surgeon wanted me to lose 20 pounds, and gave me some details from the last surgery to motivate me to lose the weight. Needless to say, I am really scared for the surgery now. I told Tristan I want to borrow some of his courage. The thing is, I'm serious. I'm taking a few things that represent Tristan with me to the hospital. I have a yellow Tristan bracelet, a Team Tristan t-shirt, and the picture of him walking to his surgery. That picture is going to sit in my hospital room to remind me try to be as brave as Tristan.

Tristan, you are my favorite Superhero. I love you.

If you would like to support Team Tristan by purchasing a t-shirt, contact Mindy Sorensen @ 801-598-8826

Regular 'T'
Adult S, M, L, XL $12

XXL & XXXL $15

child
$10 XS, S, L

XS 2-4
S 4-6
...

L 8-10

XL (is an Adult Small) $12

Remembering Trevyn

One year ago today, Trevyn Clint Farley flew to the heavens, and changed our lives forever.  He was just four years old, and so very beautiful, with big brown eyes and the longest eyelashes I've ever seen. 

 I'll never forget seeing his tiny body on that big hospital bed.  He was connected to so many tubes.  The room was filled with overwhelming machines that beeped intrusively.  We weren't allowed to touch him, or even sing a comforting song, as he lie on that gigantic bed in a coma.  

Trevyn's mommy?  How does one describe a truly broken heart?  Devastation doesn't even begin to touch upon it. I've only heard someone cry like that two times in my life. ShaNelle crumbled right before our eyes, completely broken. That was right after the doctors told her that Trevyn probably wasn't going to make it.  But still we hoped.  Don't we all hope right up until the last second at times like this?  

The day of the accident is still so vivid in my mind.  It WAS an ordinary day.  Then Rick called and told me that Trevyn had been in an accident.  A chest of drawers had fallen on his head, and he had been life-flighted to Primary Children's Hospital.  

When you hear the words "life-flight", you know it is the worst kind of injury.  And after Rick spoke those words, everything from that moment on is like a video in my brain.  I see all of the faces at the hospital that loved Trevyn so dearly, grief stricken and in shock.  Time ticked by as if in slow motion.

They told Shin that even if Trevyn lived, he would not be the boy we all knew.  And yet still we hoped.  We prayed.  We begged in our prayers.  Some of us tried to bargain with the Lord.  That is what desperate hearts do sometimes.  But in the end, we have to leave it in God's hands. 

Trevyn waited until his mommy left to leave his mortal body.  I think Trevyn knew that it would be easier for ShaNelle if he passed away quietly just after she had left the hospital room.  Even at his tender age of four years, he had the compassion to understand how impossible it would be for her to say goodbye.  I also think it would have been too difficult for him to say goodbye to his best friend since the day he was born.  His mom.

I wish I had something wise to say that would make sense of losing a child through such a tragic accident.  I still don't have the answers.  I wish I had a way to ease the pain of the ones I love, even just for a while.  But I honor the grieving that I've witnessed over this last year.  Trevyn's life meant something.  He was important.  He was loved and cherished beyond measure.  In Shinny's grief, Tracey's and Jim's, and, well, all of the rest us, our grief has shown that Trevyn Clint Farley's life was precious.  He will be loved forever.  

This I can say with certainty.  Trevyn is nearby.  He is an angel among us. He has visited some in dreams. He has left feathers for his Grandma Tracey.  He has sent messages and feathers to Shinny. He has entertained newborn babies and whispered messages in to ears that will listen. He has even sent a few rainbows.

Someone once said that you never get over  losing a loved one.  Especially a child.  But eventually you get used to it.  I can only hope that this is true.  For now, the wounds are still raw, and hearts are still broken.  And that is how it should be.  

We miss you, Trevyn.  We love you to the moon and back.