Praise God from whom all blessing flow.

Praise God that Kohen’s rotationplasty surgery in March was a success.

Praise God that Kohen rehabilitated exceptionally well.

Praise God that Kohen has been learning to use his prosthetic like a pro.

Praise God for all of you who were there for Kohen throughout this ordeal, supporting him and his family as we traversed the darkest and most painful days of our lives.

Art by Angus Olsen

Praise God that Kohen suffered only a minimal amount of permanent hearing loss from the chemotherapy.

Praise God that Kohen’s EKG showed no damage to his heart from the chemotherapy.

Praise God that Kohen handled nearly eight months of chemotherapy like a trooper, concluding his final treatment this past week.

And finally, praise God that Kohen’s final CAT scans have revealed no signs of cancer anywhere in his body.

But the road is long from over . . .

This week Kohen gets his port removed from his body. Then there will be tests and more tests as the months and years go by to make sure the cancer has not returned. And then there’s adjusting to a whole new life of living with a prosthetic.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a whole lot of summer we have to catch up on and memories to be made.

Get Acquainted With Kohen

Kohen in Tennessee (circa April 2019)

Today marks eight months since our world came crashing down and our hearts were broken like nothing else we’ve ever experienced. Eight long months of a grueling journey to save Kohen’s life.

But who is Kohen? 

Over the past eight months it’s been easy to get lost in the chaos and grief of Kohen’s cancer, chemotherapy, rotationplasty, and rehabilitation–so much so, in fact–that it can easily overshadow who Kohen is, and we could completely miss the preciousness of this amazing little boy.

That is a shame, because few of you really know him aside from blog updates and pictures of him in a hospital bed. But he’s more than cancer, more than hospital visits, more than an object of our pity and empathy. He is our son, Kohen Gabriel Pattison. A dynamic, wise-beyond-his-years young man who is adored by his family and makes his mama and papa so exceptionally proud.

So who is this young man? This boy that has captivated our hearts? This blessing that has garnered the prayers, tears, and donations of strangers all over the country? Oblige me a moment to better acquaint you with our pride and joy.

He loves to count and he adores tigers. He’s surprisingly good at adult-level board games and he’s extremely witty for his age. He also enjoys fishing (which he’s a natural at) and being on the boat. I noticed early on he seemed most comfortable on the water.

Below I’ve included some pictures over the years where you can see why we love this little man, and why we are so thankful to each and every one of you who have given of your time, money, and resources, who have prayed and provided, and who have encouraged us through this dark time.

One of many fish this boy has held.
Crazy wigs and funny hats make him smile.
Tender moments are abundant in our family.
And goofy moments, too.
A handsome young man, no doubt.
Another hat, another goofy face.
Brotherly love.
My, what a big nose you have, Inspector Clouseau.
Holding a baby goat.
Trying to ride a baby goat.
Enjoying the fair and rodeo.
When you have unsupervised time with the markers.

More updates will follow as we approach completion of Kohen’s chemotherapy. Thank you all again, a million times over, for all the prayers, support, and encouragement.

Fevers, Nightmares, and Horses!


As reported in my previous update, Kohen and Courtney left for the hospital around 10:30 PM on June 13th after Kohen spiked a fever of 101.7 (anything over 100.5 requires a trip to the hospital because during chemotherapy a fever can mean Kohen has an infection in his body, and that can be life threatening).

Unfortunately things didn’t go so well once they arrived at the hospital. The doctor ordered the necessary fluids and antibiotics for Kohen (stat) and instructed the nursing staff to take Kohen’s vitals every 15 minutes. But it wasn’t until after 6 AM (over six hours after Kohen arrived at the hospital) that the staff finally began treatment. This was a huge error that could have cost Kohen his life.


A few hours after Kohen arrived at the hospital (about 3 AM) he awoke terrified. His heart rate spiked to 200bpm and he was crying out in terror but Courtney was unable to console him. This lasted for a few minutes before he eventually calmed down and fell back to sleep. The dream (something to do about people chasing each other) reoccured two more times that night.

The following day, Courtney slipped off to the shower in the hospital room while Kohen was napping. One of the doctors entered the room and woke Kohen. As soon as the doctor departed Kohen began crying hysterically and calling out for Courtney (just as he had done throughout the night). Again, he was inconsolable. He mentioned something about the doctor in his room “moving so fast.”

The following day Kohen came home. While home, Kohen took a nap on the couch next to me and when he woke I talked to him and patted his chest as he stretched before I left the room for a moment. I was only out of the room for less than ten seconds when all of a sudden I heard him call out to me, terrified. He was crying again, scared of something. He had not woken from a dream, he had been awake for a couple of minutes by then, yet he was again inconsolable.

Later that night, Kohen fell asleep next to me in bed. He then woke up terrified again. And again there was nothing we could do to calm him down. He even grabbed our headboard, gripping it in terror. This went on for a solid five minutes. We didn’t know what was going on and why he remained so scared after he was awake. At one point, while I was trying to talk to him, he got even more scared, asking me to stop talking to him because my mouth was “moving so fast” and that “everything was moving so fast.”

The way he was behaving was unlike anything I’ve ever seen in any of my kids. It was as if Kohen was having hallucinations. It was a truly terrifying experience for him and his parents, and we believe it was likely a result of the methotrexate “medicine” he’s been received during his chemotherapy.

Courtney had this to add about Kohen’s nightmares: “As with so much of this journey, I feel like a helpless bystander. Unable to ‘fix’ this for my son. As a mom that was always the ‘fixer,’ this has been my biggest challenge and I have had to learn to let go and allow God to be in control. I have had to learn to pray rather than to take matters into my own hands.

Courtney is also asking for prayer: “Praying for all nightmares or hallucinations to stop (there have been no more since the 16th), praying that the effects of the chemo will not be long lasting, praying that Kohen will have a long and healthy life ahead of him, and most importantly, praying that the challenges and hardships he has faced—that we have faced as a family—will be used in a mighty way for God’s glory.

Horses and Tahoe

We took the whole family up the hill to Lake Tahoe (only the most beautiful place on earth) for a trail ride on horses. It was so good to get Kohen out and to see him and his siblings enjoying some degree of normalcy.

Kohen rode his horse (named Snowball) with his prosthetic just fine and he loved every minute of it. Me, on the other hand, well . . . there’s a reason I haven’t ridden a horse in over a quarter century, and this horse ride reminded me why.

We then went to the beach where the kids got to explore, play in the sand, and try avoiding the typical cold Lake Tahoe water as the waves crashed in.

And finally, we have some good news about Kohen’s progress. After receiving his permanent prosthetic he has adapted well to its use. In my last update I had intended to get video of Kohen walking with his new leg without the aid of crutches, but the unexpected hospital trip postponed that. So, without further ado, below is a short clip of Kohen taking some of his first steps without crutches.

Since this video was taken (mid-June), Kohen has gotten more adept at maneuvering around on all sorts of terrain without crutches. We are so proud of what this little man has accomplished. The sky’s the limit for him.

Forward progress and another setback.

Last Friday Kohen received his new (permanent) prosthetic leg complete with his personally selected tiger design on the front and back.

Kohen did so well trying out his new leg, his prosthetist estimated that in a mere two weeks Kohen will probably no longer need crutches. But guess what? After returning home from receiving his new leg, he began walking on it with no crutches! He also got to try out his trike with his new leg. This is how he did:

I had intended to get some video of Kohen walking without crutches but Saturday night he spiked a fever and so, at 10:30 PM, Courtney was off to Reno to admit Kohen into ICU. This means he will be in the hospital for a minimum of two days and this week’s chemo treatment (scheduled for Wednesday) will now be postponed by a week, which means our expected time of concluding this miserable ordeal is also postponed.

But in spite of this demoralizing setback, we are still so proud of this little man. Everything he’s endured the past seven months—and continues to endure—and everything he’s accomplished in the face of all these trials, has been nothing short of remarkable. He is an inspiration to us all. We love you so much, Kohen.

End of May Update

Within two hours of posting my last update, we received word from the surgeon that Kohen can put full weight on his leg.

Woo hoo!

After I got home later that day, I received a wonderful treat. With his prosthetic on, Kohen walked unaided down the hall and into my arms where I was waiting for him (praise God from whom all blessings flow). It was a feeling like none other in the world. I am so proud of that boy.

Speaking of progress, back in the beginning of May, after watching an old Cosby Show together, my kids were enamored with the episode featuring Theo Huxtable and friends busting out some breakdancing moves. Of course, my kids thought it was pretty cool and wanted to give it a try. So I had to dig deep into the wayback machine to find a few tunes from my youth, and then the Pattison house was hip-hoppin’ and breakdancing!

Here is a video of Kohen breakdancing only two months post surgery. Nothing can hold this kid back.

A New Leg, an Earthquake, and Two Trips to the Lake

Today marks six months since we received confirmation that Kohen had cancer (November 26th). It has been the longest six months of our lives and we still have at least two more months of chemotherapy remaining.

I wanted to start off this update by extending my thanks to a few more of those who’ve helped us on this journey: the Galvin and Tripp families for creating a GoFundMe for Kohen, and the Paterson and Musser families for also creating a GoFundMe for Kohen. Both of these conduits for donations have been invaluable to us through this ordeal.

Last month Kohen received his temporary prosthetic leg, however, he’s only permitted to use it with the aid of crutches or his walker until the surgeon gives us the green light for Kohen to go full weight-bearing on it. He’s been walking well with it, adapting to it like a pro.

And we are all discovering the little issues that arise from the use of a prosthetic, like needing a special sock that makes a prosthetic more comfortable to wear, identifying areas on Kohen’s leg where the prosthetic is rubbing against his skin, and even misplacing the prosthetic. It’s one thing to misplace your phone, wallet, or keys, but misplacing an entire leg is a whole new experience for us. “Has anyone seen Kohen’s leg?”

This month Kohen got casted for his permanent prosthetic leg. He should be getting that one in the near future and he will hopefully be able to put full weight on it soon. We are all very excited.

On May 15th we were woken by our second earthquake in the past two months. This earthquake struck a few minutes after 4 AM. The kids missed it because—as kids always do—they slept through it.

Last week we took the kids to the lake. Kohen got to play in the sand and ride in a pedal boat (he even got to pedal).

I noticed when Kohen was younger, he had an affinity for being on the water (like his daddy). He didn’t care what he was doing, just as long as he was on a boat. Since then, his love for being on the water, and for fishing, has not waned (and he’s a great little angler).

This past weekend we had the pleasure of taking all the kids kayaking (it helps when you only live five minutes from the lake). If you like fishing but have never tried kayak fishing, you’re missing out. You simply must try it—you’ll be hooked (pun intended).

When our day was done, Kohen caught the most fish with 10. The rest of us caught a combined 14.

Even the fish can’t resist this kid. 🥰

These moments at the lake—getting Kohen on the water he loves—are not only precious, they help lift the spirits of a kid who’s known nothing but pain, doctors, needles, surgery, rehabilitation, and chemotherapy for the last six months.

Of course, we have to take extra precautions on the lake during this time (like keeping as much sun off him as possible), but it is all worth it to see the smile on his face and the joy in his heart.

Baby goats, an affectionate snake, and another trip to Urgent Care.

Kohen continues to recover from his surgery and chemotherapy treatments remarkably well, and he’s remained in good spirits through it all. This kid never ceases to amaze his parents with his strength, humor, and endurance.

On his most recent return home from chemotherapy treatment, Kohen was happy to receive a reptilian hug on his arm thanks to his older brother, the snake wrangler, who has an uncanny knack for finding the slippery serpents.

Kohen also got the opportunity to watch Ginger and Oreo being born. Ah, the miracle (and gross) process of live birth.

On Wednesday, Kohen finally got casted for his new prosthetic leg (which he should be receiving within a week or two). We are all so excited for him, but probably not nearly as excited as he is since it’s been five months since he last walked.

Also on Wednesday, Kohen received a needle in the arm for more blood tests, and then had a tooth pulled (as if he hasn’t already gone through enough). But Kohen wasn’t the only one who had to deal with a little pain this week.

Last Friday one of Kohen’s older brothers had an accident requiring a trip to the Urgent Care. While playing outside (running on a shed roof where he shouldn’t have been), Asher fell and landed on the head of a screw. It tore through his jeans, lacerating is leg just above the knee. Fortunately he didn’t fall off the roof itself.

After ten sutures he was all fixed up. Now he not only gets to brag that he never cried once during the whole ordeal (although he did almost pass out and throw up), he also gets to brag that he received more stitches than his brother, Calvin (who got nine stitches a few years ago after stepping on broken glass).

Asher has recovered well since the incident one week ago, and is expected to get the stitches removed in a few days.

For being raised on rustic acreage, and being so active, our kids have had remarkably few injuries. But after Kohen’s cancer diagnosis in November, we’ve had the fishing hook incident, then Kohen’s leg fracture, then his and Phoebe’s knife cuts, and now Asher’s accident. It seems like the hits just keep on coming—fast and furious.

Although it comes with inherent risks, out in the country, past the city limits sign is the truly good life. And in spite of all the injuries (and hard work), we’re grateful for where God has us, and we wouldn’t change it for anything.


As rough as the last few months have been—and as rough as Kohen’s rehabilitation and continued chemotherapy will be—we’ve been granted opportunities that remind us others have it far worse than we do. 

Like the little girl at the hospital (no more than two years older than Kohen) who has no legs below the knees and no arms beyond the elbows. Or like the parents who are spending weeks and months in the hospital waiting and hoping for an organ donation so their child’s life can be spared. Or the little kid across from Kohen’s room in ICU who passed away. 

All of these examples served to keep us from wallowing in pity for our own family’s plight, and they reminded me of the story about the man who lamented his lot in life because he was too poor to buy shoes, until the day he saw the man who had no feet.

This brings me to the subject of gratitude.

My wife and I are grateful beyond words for the mercy God has shown us throughout this ordeal, even during the times of greatest darkness and despair. It’s been a mercy we neither expected, nor deserve. 

In this spirit of gratitude, we wanted to take a moment to extend our gratitude to everyone who’s played a part in Kohen’s recovery so far. We are nowhere near done, but so many individuals and organizations have come together to assist us, it’s been a tremendous sight to behold. 

However, I’ve been fearful about doing this because I know I will leave someone out. It’s almost better to not publish this post than to unintentionally fail to mention even one person, but I trust if I neglected to mention you, you will forgive me and understand that our lives have been a whirlwind lately. There have been so many people who have helped and encouraged us, and in the chaos that has been our life for the past four-and-a-half months, sometimes our attempts at thanking each of you individually (and in this post) slips through the cracks. Please know our hearts and intentions are pure in this endeavor, and forgive us if we’ve forgotten you.

Thank you to all the family, friends, coworkers, and total strangers who have donated to help Kohen and alleviate some of the expenses of this ordeal for our family. The burden you have helped ease will never be forgotten.

Thank you to those who have taken on the task of watching our other children while we’re in Utah, as well as when Kohen and mommy are in chemotherapy and daddy has to go to work.

Thank you to those who have coordinated fundraisers on Kohen’s behalf, including Deacon Carlo & Debbie Managlia for hosting a fundraiser dinner, and Melissa Thomson for the “Kohen’s Warriors” t-shirt fundraiser. 

Thank you to those who’ve spread the word about Kohen’s plight, and thank you to those who’ve purchased the “Kohen’s Warriors” t-shirts.

Thank you to all the families who have provided meals for our family.

Thank you to all the doctors and nurses at Renown Hospital in Reno, Nevada who helped Kohen through his first 1/3 of Chemotherapy treatments.

Thank you to Dr. Jones and his staff at Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah for successfully removing the tumor from Kohen’s femur, and for the rotationplasty surgery that will allow him—with the aid of a prosthetic—to one day walk again, and live a normal life.

Thank you to the Ronald McDonald House Charities (our home away from home) and their wonderful staff for making our burden that much lighter while in Utah.

Thank you to all the families, groups, and organizations who made meals for all the families staying at the Ronald McDonald House.

Thank you to the Hartford, Connecticut SWAT Team for the gifts for Kohen (and making him an honorary SWAT member). 

Thank you to the Beverly Hills Police Department for the challenge coins

Thank you to Helping Hands and the Joshua Farler Foundation (both in Yerington, Nevada) for your donations.

Thank you to the Brooks Foundation of Reno, Nevada for your donation. 

Thank you to the Kiwanis Club of New Orleans for your donations.

Thank you to the Utah law enforcement agencies for all the swag, including the Salt Lake City Police Department, South Jordan PD, Herriman PD, and the Salt Lake City FBI. 

Thank you to Aimee Carr for all the hard work you did in procuring all the aforementioned Utah law enforcement paraphernalia.

Thank you to the Philadelphia schools for their gifts, cards, and encouragement from the students.

Thank you to the Northern Nevada Children’s Cancer Foundation in Reno for all the financial support as well as all the technical support to assist us in navigating these unfamiliar waters (that have now become all too familiar to us).

Thank you to the Paterson, Powers, and Grimm families for helping to make our holidays brighter. 

Thank you to the employee from the Moran Eye Center in Salt Lake City who bought my lunch when I got lost in her building.

Thank you to the Give Hope Foundation of Northern Nevada for their generous donation.

Thank you to the Tic Toc Diner, Mr. Roos, Acropolis Restaurant, and Spudley’s Super Spuds for the donation boxes in their respective Louisiana establishments.

Thank you to the Louisiana State Troopers (A & B) and the Nevada Highway Patrol for the police swag. 

Thank you to the East Jefferson Business Assoc., Living Water, CBD Wealth Management, A-1 Signs, CBT Construction, Entrepreneur’s Source, Elm wood Storage & Wine Cellar, Jefferson Parish Performing Arts, Bavarian Wealth Management, N.O.Vative Printing, and Jefferson Republican Pachyderm, all of the great state of Louisiana.

Thank you to the anonymous cop who sent Kohen his State of Ohio Combat Cross medal, stating that he wanted Kohen to have it because Kohen is “fighting harder than I ever did.” 

Thank you to Dawnbusters Kiwanis of Louisiana for their generous donations.

Thank you to the numerous police agencies throughout the nation and the world (too many to list here) who also sent patches, shirts, challenge coins, cups, and other swag for Kohen. 

Thank you to the members of Fellowship Bible Church of Carson City for their continued support and encouragement.

Thank you to Parkside Bible Fellowship Church and Logos Christian Academy, both of Fallon, Nevada, for their generous donations and delicious meals.  

Those I’ve mentioned above and those who I’ve failed to mention (please forgive me), have helped us more than you may ever know, and I well up with emotion when I consider how much Kohen is cared for and how much time, money, and resources people have sacrificed on our behalf. We couldn’t have done it without all of you.

When this trial began it was my intention to repay everyone who donated to help us, but it quickly become so much, so fast, that I’ve had to concede that there’s no way I could ever repay you all. However, during this ordeal our eyes were opened to the world of cancer sufferers that–to my shame–had been under our noses all along; we just never realized it. But now we are cognizant of this subculture of suffering, and as soon as we get through this we’ll begin doing our part to pay all your generosity forward for future families that will be enduring this ordeal . . . but who just don’t know it yet.

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you!

As the First Phase of This Battle Concludes, the Next Phase is Just Beginning

Kohen successfully finished his three months of pre-op chemotherapy treatments on Sunday, February 23rd.

On Monday, February 24th, Kohen had a chest scan and MRI. The chest scan revealed the cancer has still not spread, and the MRI showed the tumor in his leg had shrunk a “fair amount.”

On Friday, February 28th, Kohen had a blood test and hearing test. The blood test showed his counts were good (so we can proceed with the upcoming surgery), and the hearing test revealed that he hasn’t suffered any hearing loss from the cisplatin.

This morning we endured the agonizing ordeal of having to say goodbye to our other children and now we’re currently on our long trek to Salt Lake City for Kohen’s twelve-hour rotationplasty surgery that’s scheduled for tomorrow morning.

How long we will be gone, we don’t know. It will all depend on how the surgery and recovery goes. One thing is certain, however: time in Utah will be sad on two accounts. One, we’ll be dealing with Kohen’s surgery that will drastically change his life forever, and two, we’ll be desperately missing our other children while we’re away.

Everything we’ve had to endure for the past three-and-a-half months really makes an article I wrote last year all that more poignant. I had no idea when I wrote it (nine months before this nightmare began), how the year would turn out.

I’ve reprinted the article (from Medium) below:

The Sheer Splendidness of Sharing a Shower: How a Tub Full of Toys Filled This Shower Vagabond’s Heart With Not Only Happiness, But Foreboding

(February 2019)

Recently my wife and I encountered an issue with the shower in our master bathroom which necessitated us using the kids’ bathroom to shower.

It’s an inconvenience, to say the least, as it requires several trips across the house to bring the various toiletries we need to practice proper hygiene. And inevitably, a towel or some article of clothing is always forgotten, requiring a trip back across the house.

But since becoming a shower vagabond in my own home, I’ve had the opportunity to experience something I wouldn’t have otherwise—an unexpected epiphany that’s given me a new perspective.

The kids’ shower is not like my shower at all. Their shower is a tub/shower combo, and instead of containing such things as adult shampoos, conditioners, and razors, the kids’ shower contains fruity scented and tear-free soaps, big-wheeled monster trucks, and plastic boats.

Normally, the kids’ toys scattered throughout the house is a point of constant irritation. “Clean up this mess” and “clean up that mess” is a common pronouncement heard echoing throughout our house multiple times a day. Strangely though, I felt no such annoyance when I beheld the myriad of toys in the tub.

Why not?

Two reasons come to mind.

One is simply because I want to encourage my kids to feed their imaginations, and their bathtub is their own private oceanic playground where scuba divers with action grips fight giant squids, giant squids fight ferocious sharks, and all of them fight the mighty Mokele-mbembe.

The other reason I don’t mind the clutter of toys in their tub is more therapeutic.

You see, something special happens when a parent finds themselves alone behind a locked bathroom door. That space is a quiet, secluded oasis for much needed introspection, where clarity of thought can be attained for any mom or dad who can spare a few minutes to take advantage of such a refuge. But you would think a mess of bath toys would be a distraction and a source of visual chaos, and I would have thought the same thing too, till I found myself standing there one evening gazing at their kaleidoscope of colorful toys.

In that brief moment of time, in the tranquility of that hallowed but humble bathroom, those toys told a tale. Not the typical tale of untidy kids who don’t clean up after themselves, but a tale of greater meaning, a tale of greater purpose, and a tale of a frighteningly inevitable conclusion to life that I dread.

In that moment of stillness, as I beheld all those toys—evidences of a childhood filled with innocence, imagination, and wonder—I was instantly reminded that this chapter of my life is fleeting . . . quickly!

Those epic shark battles, submarine wars, and experiments to see how long one can hold their breath under water, will soon come to an end in this bathroom. Replaced instead with doilies for bowls of potpourri on the counter, safety handlebars in the shower, and medicated shampoos.

It will be a house void of the sounds of joyful laughter, wisecracking banter, and yes, even bickering. All signs of a lively, thriving family will have been replaced with deafening silence, occasionally punctuated with the tears of my wife and I longing to return to these very days when our kids were young, our bodies didn’t ache, and death wasn’t so near.

This silence will be the new norm, heralding the next chapter of my life, a future chapter that—in spite of how stressful times can be right now—I don’t look forward to. A chapter defined by my aging body’s continual deterioration, adult kids who are too busy raising their own families to visit their mom and dad, and my eventual final breath.

So for now, I shower with a smile, cherishing what it means to be surrounded by plastic fish, rubber dinosaurs, and watermelon shampoo. And in spite of the approaching conclusion of my days here on earth, I’m comforted with the knowledge that—at least for the time being—I have the best life a man could ever ask for, and I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

More updates to follow.


Today marks three months since we discovered Kohen has cancer. That day (that feels like three years ago) started out like any other day, but has since turned our world upside down, changing our lives forever.

And now the next big step is upon us: the surgery date has been scheduled.

March 5th–just 13 days before his 6th birthday–Kohen will receive rotationplasty surgery in Salt Lake City.

The surgeon performing the rotationplasty is Dr. Jones. Here is an article mentioning him from a previous rotationplasty operation he performed on a little girl, and below is an illustration of what will happen:

Courtney and I were learning to adapt to the chemotherapy treatments as they’ve become the “new norm” for us, but now our boat is about to be rocked again.

I would be lying if I said this procedure didn’t terribly frighten me. I had successfully walled it off since learning about it–not giving it much thought as I already had enough on my plate to think about and to worry about. But now we find ourselves less than three weeks away from the surgery.

The gravity of what will happen next to my little boy (and how it will forever change his life) has finally gripped me. Especially when I add the fact that Courtney and I will be away from our other children for an entire week or two (depending on how things go).

Kohen’s siblings are struggling with what is happening to their brother, and having him and their mom gone constantly for chemotherapy treatments has weighed heavily on them. Now, with this surgery, they will be without their baby brother and both parents for up to two weeks.

To get a better perspective on how life with osteosarcoma and rotationplasty will be for Kohen and his family, I encourage you to take a little time and watch the following video of a boy who found out he had osteosarcoma on his tenth birthday, and who later underwent this radical surgery.

Courtney sent this video to me well over a month ago but I couldn’t bring myself to watch it until now. I’m glad I waited, because even now I sobbed through most of it.

More updates on Kohen will follow as the surgery date approaches.